summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz don’t hate each other anymore, but she still calls him a little bitch. PART ONE
word count: 9.1k + social media posts
folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!!! THE LONG AWAITED PART TWO OF LITTLE BITCH!!! i’m going to be completely honest with you i’m beyond terrified of posting this. little bitch was overwhelmingly liked by all of you and i’m scared this won’t live up to it 😭 but i really really hope you like it. i’m not a fan of doing part two’s of fics but this one deserves it <33 buckle up for a ride or angst, some tears and a lot of little bitch calling. LOVE YOU ALL
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
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username4 what is carlos doing in the likes i thought they hated each other 😭
username5 HOW DOES OSCAR FEEL ABOUT HER BF I NEED TO KNOW
username6 not tagging the person in the second pic she’s such a piastri
landonorris You’re not slick at all my friend
↳ ynpiastri i literally never asked for your opinion
↳ username1 HEEELP
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If someone had told you a year ago that you would be making out with Carlos Sainz in his driver's room hours before the Monaco Grand Prix, you would've laughed in their faces and told them they were completely out of their mind.
Because why would you ever think of even breathing near the little bitch, right?
And yet, there you were. Your bodies pressed together as his lips explored your neck.
"Carlos," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "we shouldn't... someone could come in..."
He lifted his head, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. "Do you want me to stop, hermosa?"
"No," you admitted, "I don't want you to stop."
A satisfied smile played on his lips before he pressed them against yours again. His hands caressed your hips, pulling you even closer.
"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered against your lips.
You couldn't help but smile. "The feeling's mutual, you little bitch."
He chuckled softly before speaking, "And to think that you hated me."
"I still do," you replied, but your tone lacked conviction. "It's just… I hate you a little less when you do that."
His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shiver.
"Oh yeah?" he murmured, his hot breath against your skin. "And this?"
You let out a small moan, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders. "Maybe I hate you even less now."
He laughed softly, his hands sliding under your t-shirt. "You definitely don't hate me."
Almost a month had passed since that night in Carlos' car, and things between you two were amazing. You hadn't put a label on what you were yet, but you felt happier than ever.
You found yourselves seeking each other out more and more. But it wasn't just about the physical attraction or the tension of your bickering anymore. You discovered a side of Carlos you'd never seen before – his warmth, his humor, his vulnerability.
And you finally let your guard down and let him see that part of you, too.
The sarcastic remarks and playful insults were still there, but now they were tinged with affection rather than malice. Your friends had started to notice the change in your dynamic, especially Lando, who couldn't quite hide his knowing smirk whenever he saw you two together.
However, you decided to play it cool, not letting your friends know that there was something more between you and Carlos. They might be able to tell by now, but you still didn't want to admit it to them.
Which lead to secret rendezvous in hidden corners of the paddock become frequent occurrences. Like right now.
"As much as I'm enjoying this," you said as his lips still lingered on your neck and his hands roamed underneath your shirt, "I should go, someone's probably coming to get you shortly."
Carlos let out a soft groan of but nodded, slowly pulling away from you.
"You're right," he admitted, his hands reluctantly leaving your skin. "I wish we could stay like this, though. "
"I know," you smiled, reaching up to smooth his tousled hair. "But we can't risk getting caught, especially not today."
He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tonight, then? After the race?"
"Assuming you don't crash into a wall, sure," you teased.
"Such faith in me," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll show you, hermosa. Watch me on that podium."
You were about to retort when a sharp knock on the door made you both freeze.
"Carlos? Five minutes until the briefing," came a voice from outside.
"Coming!" Carlos called back, "Looks like our time's up."
"I'll sneak out after you. Good luck out there, little bitch," you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Gracias, mi amor," he murmured, the endearment slipping out naturally.
You paused for a moment, surprised by the warm feeling that spread through your chest at his words. But there was no time to dwell on it. With a final kiss on your lips, he was out of the room.
Your heart was pounding as you tried to casually make your way out of Carlos' room. You were so focused on appearing nonchalant that you almost walked right into Charles.
"YN?" he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and a knowing smirk slowly spreading across his face. "What are you doing here?"
You felt your cheeks flush as you scrambled for an explanation. "Oh, Charles! Hi! I was just… uh… coming to wish you good luck on the race."
"In Carlos' room?" his smirk widened.
Your heart sank. Of course he'd noticed where you'd come from. You tried to keep your voice steady as you replied, "No, no… I just got a bit turned around. All these corridors look the same, you know?"
"Uh-huh," Charles said, clearly not buying it for a second. "Well, thanks for the good luck wishes. Though I'm not sure how sincere they are if you're sneaking out of my teammate's room."
You opened your mouth to protest, but the knowing look in Charles' eyes made you realize it was pointless. He'd figured it out.
You were surprised Alex haven't told him already, anyway.
"Relax, YN. Your secret's safe with me," he said with a wink. "Though you might want to fix your hair before you see your brother. It's a bit… disheveled."
You groaned, quickly running your fingers through your hair as Charles walked away, still chuckling. You tried to make the flush on your cheeks go away as you reached McLaren hospitality.
Carlos Sainz was driving you crazy in the best possible way.
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ynpiastri LECLERCCCCCC FINALLY WON AND PERFECT PODIUM TYSM MONACO 😩😩😭
username1 I NEVER SAID ANYTHING BAD ABOUT THE MONACO GP
username2 her friendship with charles is so underrated love them
landonorris I wish my best friend celebrated my podiums like that
↳ ynpiastri i wish my best friend got more podiums to celebrate
↳ username1 HELPPP 😭
username3 UM HELLO??? posted sainz, TAGGED HIM, said it’s a perfect podium and she’s not coming for his neck for the touch with oscar on track that made the race re start ????? WHAT IS GOING ON
↳ username2 OH I SEE
charles_leclerc Thank you for coming to Ferrari just to wish me good luck and not anything else, that was definitely what made me win 😉
↳ ynpiastri stfu
↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂
↳ oscarpiastri I’m really confused right now
carlossainz55 ❤️
↳ username1 BITCH WTF
↳ username2 ENEMIES TO LOVERS ???
TWITTER
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The party at Jimmy'z was in full swing, the air electric with the excitement of Charles' Grand Prix victory. The club was packed with F1 drivers, team personnel, and celebrities, all riding the high of the race day adrenaline.
You stood near the bar, your fourth glass of champagne in hand, feeling pleasantly buzzed. The room spun slightly as you looked around, your gaze inevitably drawn to Carlos. He was across the room, laughing with Pierre and Charles, but his eyes kept finding you in the crowd.
Every time your eyes met, you felt a jolt of electricity. The memory of his touch from earlier in the day lingered on your skin, making you crave more. You watched as he excused himself from his conversation and made his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace.
"Enjoying the party, hermosa?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close.
You shivered at his proximity, the scent of his cologne making your head spin even more. "It's alright," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Could be better though."
Carlos's eyes darkened at your words. He glanced around quickly before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Meet me outside in five minutes."
Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Your heart raced as you waited, trying not to watch the clock too obviously. When five minutes had passed, you made your way outside, your steps slightly unsteady.
The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy club. You spotted Carlos in one of the alleyways behind Jimmy'z. He turned as you approached, a smile spreading across his face.
"Remember the last time we were here?" he asked, pulling you close.
You giggled, the alcohol making you bold. "Yeah, when you kissed me unprovoked."
"Unprovoked?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on your waist. "I was being provoked by how insanely gorgeous you looked. Still do, by the way," he leaned even closer. "And if I recall correctly, you enjoyed it a lot."
"Maybe I did," you giggled, drunkenness clear in your every move. "Should we do it again?"
Without overthinking, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a bold, impulsive kiss. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then you felt Carlos smile against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.
As the kiss intensified, you felt Carlos's hands slide from your waist to your lower back, pressing you even closer against him. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool night air, sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands moved up to tangle in his hair, earning a low groan from him that you felt more than heard.
Breaking apart for air, Carlos rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in quick pants. "I'm crazy about you, Piastri," he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.
You were so lost in the moment that you didn't hear the footsteps of someone approaching.
"You freaking muppets! I knew it!"
You broke apart, startled, to see Lando standing there, a triumphant grin on his face.
"Lando!" you whined, burying your face in Carlos's chest. "Leave us alone!"
Carlos chuckled, his arms still around you. "How long have you known, cabron?"
"Please, you two are about as subtle as a neon sign," Lando smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh, this is too good. You two are so busted."
"Lando, please," Carlos started, but you cut him off.
"Go away, Lando!" you whined, clinging to Carlos. "We're busy."
Lando laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you lovebirds alone. But we're definitely talking about this later!"
As Lando walked away, you turned back to Carlos, wrapping your arms around his neck, suddenly feeling very tired and more than a little drunk. "Take me home?" you asked, your words slurring slightly.
"Of course, mi amor," Carlos nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll drive you to Oscar's."
"Nooo," you whined, clinging to him. "I want to stay with you tonight. Please?"
Carlos hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. "YN, you're pretty drunk. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
You nodded vigorously, then immediately regretted it as the world spun. "I'm sure. I just want to be with you. Please?"
"Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you back to my place," he said gently, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.
You beamed at him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, little bitch."
The night might have been a blur, but one thing was crystal clear—you were falling hard for Carlos Sainz, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
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ynpiastri have you guys ever tried hangover pancakes ?
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username1 OMG???
username2 SHE DOES HAVE A BF
lilyzneimer 👀👀👀
username3 BITCH THATS CARLOS SAINZ
↳ username1 nah there’s no way, they hate each other
charles_leclerc I did before you did
↳ ynpiastri don’t be jealous charlie 😚
landonorris BUSTED BUSTED
↳ ynpiastri bro get over it
↳ landonorris never
↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN
username4 people saying this is carlos sainz, do you guys not know their history or something
↳ username5 yeah but enemies to lovers is a real thing
oscarpiastri 😵💫😵💫😵💫
↳ ynpiastri ily can you pick me up?
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You could practically hear your friend's and brother's laugh through the phone as you muted the conversation. Shaking your head, you grabbed your jacket and headed out to meet Carlos.
He was waiting for you outside, leaning against a lamppost with casual smile. The sight of him - dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze - made your heart skip a beat.
"There you are," he said, his face lighting up as you approached. "Ready to go?"
Without thinking twice about it, you wrapped your arms his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, taking him by surprise. Carlos' eyes widened but he quickly melted into it, his arms wrapping around your waist. When you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with a mix of delight and wonder.
"Well," he said, a bit breathlessly, "that's quite a hello. What was that for?"
You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Do I need a reason to kiss you?"
"No, hermosa," he said, pulling you closer. "You never need a reason. You're allowed to kiss me whenever you want."
With a playful glint in your eye. You pulled him in and kissed him again.
God you were down bad, it's embarrassing.
"Dios mio," he murmured as you pulled away, "I could get used to this."
You laughed, linking your arm with his as you started walking. "Don't get too comfortable, little bitch. I still have a reputation to maintain."
Carlos chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Of course, Piastri. Whatever you say."
As you strolled through the streets of Montreal, you found yourself initiating more little touches - a squeeze of his hand, a kiss on the cheek, leaning into him as you walked. Each time, you noticed how Carlos's face would light up, how he'd pull you a little closer.
It occurred to you that maybe he'd been holding back, worried about pushing you too far or too fast.
For the past month, you'd been letting your guard down, bit by bit. Carlos had somehow managed to sneak past your defenses with his charm and the warmth that had been hidden beneath all that banter. You'd always prided yourself on being independent, on not letting anyone get too close. But with Carlos, things felt different, at least now they did.
Still, there were moments when doubt crept in, when old insecurities bubbled to the surface. What if this was all just a fling for him? What if you were reading too much into the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to treasure every kiss and touch? What if you eventually went back to your bitterness towards each other?
You hadn't put a label on whatever this was between you, and the ambiguity sometimes left you feeling unsteady, as if you were walking on a tightrope without a safety net.
But bringing it up to him felt intimidating.
"Whats on your mind?" Carlos asked once he noticed that you went quiet and your eyes were wandering.
You considered bringing up the subject, but decided to ignore the thought for now.
"Nothing," you replied with a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Just thinking about how Lando is going to have our heads for not wanting to hang out with him."
Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "Lando will survive. He can’t have us all to himself all the time."
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As the Spanish Grand Prix weekend approached, you found yourself in Barcelona, exploring the city with Carlos in a way you never imagined possible.
The man who once irritated you beyond belief was now showing you his childhood spots, sharing stories of his youth with a boyish enthusiasm that made your heart flutter.
When you told Oscar about your plans to head to Barcelona early with Carlos, you braced yourself for the teasing that was sure to follow.
Your brother didn't disappoint, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he launched into a series of jokes about you "fraternizing with the enemy" and how you'd "finally succumbed to Sainz's charms." But beneath the banter, you could see the genuine happiness in Oscar's eyes.
After the laughter died down, he pulled you into a hug and told you he was glad you'd found someone who made you happy, even if it was "that Spanish menace."
He was the best brother you could've asked for.
"And this," Carlos said, gesturing to a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a narrow street, "is where you'll find the best paella in all of Barcelona. Maybe even in all of Spain."
"That's a bold claim, Sainz," you raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You better not be overselling it."
"Would I ever lie to you, Piastri?"
"Yes, absolutely," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words.
As you sat down to eat, the aroma of saffron and seafood filled the air. Carlos watched expectantly as you took your first bite, and you couldn't help but close your eyes in delight at the flavors.
"Okay, I'll admit it," you said, opening your eyes to see his triumphant smile. "This might actually be the best paella I've ever had."
"I told you!" he exclaimed, looking far too pleased with himself. "Never doubt a Spaniard when it comes to paella."
"Alright, you win this round," you rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.
As you continued to enjoy the meal, a comfortable silence settled between you and Carlos. It was in these quiet moments that you found yourself marveling at how far you'd come - from barely tolerating each other to... whatever this was now.
"You know, I've been thinking," Carlos broke the silence, his voice softer than usual, "We've talked a lot about my childhood here in Spain, but I realize I don't know much about your early years in Australia."
You looked up from your plate, a bit surprised by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, well, what do you want to know?"
Carlos leaned forward, his elbows on the table, genuine curiosity in his warm brown eyes. "Everything. What was it like growing up there? What did little YN enjoy back then?”
You paused for a moment, caught off guard by Carlos's question. Your mind immediately went to your childhood memories with Oscar, and you found yourself launching into a familiar narrative.
"Well, growing up in Australia was quite an adventure, especially with Oscar around," you began, a fond smile playing on your lips, “Oscar's always been obsessed with anything that has wheels. Even as a toddler, he'd zoom around the house with his toy cars, making engine noises..."
As you launched into the story of Oscar's journey from go-karts to Formula 1, you found yourself getting carried away with the memories. You talked about the early morning drives to races, the smell of petrol and rubber that became a constant in your life, the way your parents juggled work and Oscar's growing career.
"...and then there was this one time, Oscar was about 14, and he'd just won a major championship. The interviewer asked him who his biggest inspiration was, and do you know what he said?" You paused, smiling at the memory.
Carlos shook his head, completely engrossed in your story.
"He said it was me. Can you believe that? His older sister who couldn't tell a thing about cars. I think I cried for an hour after that interview."
As you finished your tale, you noticed Carlos watching you with an unreadable expression. "What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.
Carlos smiled softly, reaching across the table to take your hand.
"Hermosa," he said gently, "I asked about your childhood, and you've told me all about Oscar's racing career."
You blinked, realizing he was right. "Oh, I... I guess I got carried away. Sorry about that."
"No, no," Carlos squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I love hearing about Oscar, truly. But I want to know about you. What did you like growing up? What were your passions, your dreams?"
You blinked, suddenly realizing that you had automatically steered the conversation towards Oscar, as you had done countless times before when asked about your childhood. The fact that Carlos had redirected the focus back to you left you momentarily speechless.
"I... wow," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."
"Really? But surely people must have been interested in your childhood too?"
You shrugged, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. "Not really. I mean, Oscar was always the star, you know? My pride and joy, the racing prodigy. People were always more interested in his story."
Carlos squeezed your hand gently. "Well, I'm interested in your story. Tell me about little YN Piastri, not just Oscar's sister."
You took a deep breath, feeling a lot of emotions you couldn't quite name. Carlos's genuine interest in your personal story touched something deep within you, a part of yourself you'd almost forgotten existed.
"Actually," you began, your voice soft as you delved into long-buried memories, "I was always drawn to art. Not just painting or drawing, but all forms of visual expression. I remember spending hours in our backyard, arranging leaves and flowers into patterns, or using chalk to create massive, colorful murals on our driveway."
"That sounds beautiful. Did you take classes?" Carlos leaned in, his eyes bright with interest.
"Not really. I wasn't great in school, to be honest. Sitting still, focusing on textbooks - it just wasn't my strong suit. But give me a blank canvas or a lump of clay, and I could lose myself for hours."
"So why didn't you pursue it?" Carlos asked gently.
You paused, considering Carlos's question. It was something you'd never really articulated before, even to yourself.
"I guess... I never saw it as something to pursue," you said slowly. "My focus was always on Oscar. From the moment he started showing promise in racing, I just naturally fell into the role of his protector, his support system."
You smiled softly, remembering those early days. "Oscar was so talented, but he was also just a kid with big dreams and even bigger pressures. I felt like it was my job to shield him from the worst of it, to be his safe haven. It wasn't a sacrifice, not really. It was a choice I made out of love. Oscar's success, his happiness - that became my passion."
"But what about your art?" Carlos pressed, his tone careful but curious.
You shrugged, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. "It just… faded into the background, I guess. There were always races to attend, equipment to pack. My sketchbooks got buried under stacks of racing magazines. My easel gathered dust in the corner of my room."
Carlos reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "YN , that's… that's incredibly selfless of you. But don't you miss it?"
You felt a wave of emotion wash over you at Carlos's question, his gentle touch grounding you.
"I do," you admitted softly, your eyes meeting his. "I've been Oscar's sister, his supporter, for so long. I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else."
"Oh, mi amor," Carlos said softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "You're so much more than just Oscar's sister. You're YN - a woman with a beautiful heart and a determinate mind. Your love for Oscar is admirable, but it doesn't have to be the only thing that defines you," he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, "I'm honored to be close to that woman. The one who sees beauty in leaves and flowers, who can lose herself in creating art, even when she forgets about it."
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But old habits die hard, and you found yourself deflecting with humor. "Wow, Sainz," you said, a teasing glint in your eye. "Are you always this sappy, or am I just special?"
Carlos's face broke into a grin, recognizing your playful tone. "Only for you, Piastri. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."
"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Your reputation as what? A little bitch?"
Carlos' face broke into a wide grin, "One day you'll stop calling me that."
You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the earlier conversation dissolving into familiar banter. "Keep telling yourself that, Sainz."
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ynpiastri te quiero barcelona 🫶
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username1 OH
username2 WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGG
alexandrasaintmleux 👀❤️
username3 SHE THINKS SHES SLICK CROPPING CARLOS’ EYES GIRL WE CAN TELL ITS HIM
lilyzneimer 🥹
username4 the piastri - sainz beef turning into piastri - sainz romance wasn’t on my bingo card
nicolepiastri You failed Spanish like three times in high school…
↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP
↳ oscarpiastri 😂😂😂😂😂😂
↳ username2 mama piastri is too iconic for constantly dragging her kids
↳ ynpiastri 😩
landonorris I SEE HOW IT IS NOW
↳ username1 help lando’s dreams came true
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Saturday arrived in Barcelona, which meant it was time for qualifying.
After your quick rendezvous with Carlos in his motorhome - something that was routine by now- you made your way towards the paddock club to meet Alex and Kika. Your mind was still buzzing from Carlos' touch, your skin tingling where his lips had been just moments ago.
Your hair was slightly tousled, a result of Carlos' fingers running through it. You could still feel the ghost of his kisses on your neck, and the memory sent a shiver down your spine. Pausing briefly, you tried to smooth down your clothes and fix your appearance in the reflection of a nearby trailer. The last thing you needed was more knowing looks from your friends, you had enough when Lando teasing you and Carlos whenever he had the chance.
Approaching the paddock club, you spotted Alex and Kika waiting for you near the entrance.
"Hey, there you are!" Alex called out as you neared. "We were starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."
You rolled your eyes playfully. "In a place I've been coming to for years? Not likely."
The three of you sat down at a nearby table and ordered something to drink. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from race predictions to the latest paddock gossip.
"So," Kika said, leaning forward towards you, "how are things going with Carlos? You two seem pretty cozy lately."
You felt a blush creeping up your neck, the warmth spreading to your cheeks. You took a sip of your drink to buy yourself a moment, but you couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Things are good. Really good, actually."
"But…?" Alex's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied your face.
"But nothing," you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "We're just enjoying each other's company."
Kika's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet? I thought for sure you two would be official by now."
Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, bringing all your insecurities rushing to the surface. The ones you've tried to push away since this thing with Carlos began.
You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your friends knew you too well. The smile you'd been wearing moments ago faltered, and you could feel the doubt creeping in.
"Hey," Alex said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. Carlos is crazy about you, anyone can see that. Every relationship moves at its own pace."
You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, of course. We're just taking things slow, that's all."
But as the conversation moved on to other topics, you couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root in your mind. You found yourself only half-listening, your thoughts a swirling mess of questions and insecurities.
Why hadn't Carlos made things official? Was he keeping his options open? Were you still just his rival's sister who picked fights with him in his eyes? The rational part of your brain tried to argue that labels didn't matter, that what you and Carlos had was special regardless of what you called it. But the insecure part wouldn't be silenced so easily.
As you sat there, surrounded by the chatter of your friends and the energy of the circuit, you felt a strange sense of isolation creep over you. You were in Carlos' home city, surrounded by his world, and yet you'd never felt more unsure of your place in it.
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"Finally," Carlos breathed, as he opened the door. Before you could utter a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you. In one fluid motion, he pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours.
"Carlos, what-" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss.
When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. "Sorry," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I've been wanting to do that all day."
"You saw me right after the race, you needy little bitch."
Carlos' hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer. "That was hours ago. Far too long."
"Seriously?" you teased, though you couldn't keep the affection out of your voice. "You're ridiculous, Sainz."
"Maybe," he conceded, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. "But you like it."
Carlos began to trail kisses down your neck, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. You laughed as he pulled you towards the bed, your fingers intertwining with his.
"Slow down, hotshot. The bed's not going anywhere."
"But my patience might," he turned to face you, "Do you know how hard it was to focus on the post-race interviews when all I could think about was getting you alone?"
"Oh, poor baby," you teased gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "It must have been tough, going over the race data after a P6 finish."
Carlos groaned dramatically, pulling you closer. "Torture, hermosa. Absolute torture."
Carlos guided you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body. With a gentle push, he lowered you onto the mattress, quickly following to hover above you. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and passionate, as his hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt.
You arched into his touch, your own hands exploring the firm planes of his back. Carlos broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you gasp.
"You're really needy today, aren't you?" you said, running your fingers through his hair.
Carlos' lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm always needy when it comes to my girl," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more.
Your breath caught in your throat, not just from the sensation of his warm breath on your skin, but from his words. My girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, stirring up the doubts you'd been trying to push away.
Suddenly, Kika's voice from your earlier conversation rang in your ears. "Wait, has he not asked you to be his girlfriend yet?"
The warmth that had been building in your chest turned cold as uncertainty crept in. If you were his girl, then why hadn't he made it official?
Carlos must have sensed your sudden tension because he pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing. "YN? What's wrong?"
You forced a smile, trying to shake off the doubts. "Nothing," you said, your voice not quite as steady as you'd hoped.
He studied your face for a moment, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure? We can stop if you're not feeling it."
"No, no," you assured him quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I'm fine. Just… got distracted for a second."
Carlos didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, but promise me you'll tell me if something's bothering you?"
You nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss. As you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you pushed your concerns to the back of your mind.
A few moments later, you laid tangled beneath the covers, your head resting on Carlos' chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder. The afterglow should have been blissful, but your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts you couldn't quiet.
Carlos must have sensed your unease because he shifted slightly, tilting his head to look at you. "YN? What's wrong, hermosa? You seem… distant. Are you not feeling well?"
You sighed, debating whether to voice your concerns. "It's nothing, really. I just…" you trailed off, unsure how to continue.
"Hey," he said softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"
You bit your lip, your heart racing. "It's just… when you called me 'your girl' earlier… I don't know. It made me think."
"Think about what?" Carlos' brow furrowed slightly. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No, no, you didn't," you assured him quickly. "It's more about… us, I guess. About what we are. What this is between us."
"YN," he said, his voice low and intense. "I thought I've been clear about how I feel about you. I've been yours since that kiss at Jimmy'z last year. Maybe even before that, if I'm being honest."
His words should have reassured you, but they only made your anxiety spike. You sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet around you.
You'd wanted clarity, but now that you had it, you didn't know how to handle it.
"But what does that mean, Carlos?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "We've been doing... whatever this is for months now, but we've never really talked about it. We haven't put a label on it."
Carlos sat up too, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I didn't think we needed to. I thought it was obvious how I felt about you."
"Obvious?" you repeated, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "How is it obvious when we've never actually discussed what we are to each other?"
Carlos reached for your hand, but you pulled away, standing up from the bed. You began pacing, your mind racing.
"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice soft. "Come back to bed. Let's talk about this."
You shook your head, reaching for your clothes. "I can't... I need to think. I need some space."
As you hurriedly dressed, Carlos got out of bed, pulling on his boxers. "Are you really running away, Piastri?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice now. "I thought we were past this. That you weren't that arrogant girl who was ready to pick up pointless fights with me anymore."
His words stung, cutting deeper than you thought possible. It felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling. The accusation brought back all the insecurities you'd been trying to suppress, all the doubts about whether you deserved this happiness with Carlos. It was as if he'd reached into your chest and squeezed your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.
You whirled to face him, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "Arrogant? Is that what you think of me?"
"No, that's not what I meant," Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I just... I thought we'd moved past the point where you'd run away instead of talking to me."
"Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to run if you'd actually communicate with me," you shot back.
"Communicate?" Carlos scoffed. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one who's been keeping me at arm's length this whole time!"
The accusation hit you like a slap. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on, YN," Carlos said, his voice rising. "Every time things get too real, you pull away. You make a joke, you change the subject. It's like you're afraid of admitting that this might actually mean something."
"That's not fair," you protested, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "I'm here, aren't I? I've been here! But how am I supposed to be sure that this isn't just a fling for you? Or some twisted way to mess with Oscar?"
"Oscar?" Carlos looked you with wide eyes, shaking his head, "What does Oscar have to do with anything? This is about us, YN. You and me."
"Is it?" you challenged, your voice breaking. "Because sometimes I don't even know what 'us' means. Are we together? Are we just having fun? How am I supposed to know?"
Carlos' expression softened slightly, but his frustration was still evident. "You're not being fair, Piastri. I've always been the one to show my desire to be with you. I did it that night after Lando's party, remember? But you're the one who runs away when things get real."
His words hit home, and you felt a fresh wave of guilt and confusion wash over you.
"I don't... I don't run away," you said weakly, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.
"Don't you?" Carlos asked, his voice softening. "Every time I try to take a step forward, you take three steps back. I'm not the one who's afraid of labels here."
Silence lingered in the air, you felt physically sick. Carlos' words were true, every single one of them, deep down you knew it. As much as you tried to let your guard down with him, your self defense mechanisms always came through.
"When are you going to stop sabotaging your own happiness for other people?" Carlos asked after another minute of silence. "This isn't about Oscar, or anyone else. It's about you being too scared to admit that you might actually care about me."
His words hit you like a punch to the gut, once again. "Scared? You think I'm scared? I'm terrified, Carlos! Terrified of getting hurt, of ruining everything. And you're not exactly making it easy.""
"How am I not making it easy?" Carlos demanded, his voice rising. "I've been nothing but clear about my feelings for you. Every time I get close, you shut down!" Carlos shouted, his frustration boiling over. "It's like you're allergic to any kind of emotional intimacy!"
"Oh, that's something coming from you," you spat back. "Mr. 'I-can-charm-anyone-with-a-smile'. How do I know this isn't just another conquest for you?"
The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You saw the hurt flash across Carlos' face, quickly replaced by anger.
"A conquest?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Is that really what you think of me? After everything I've shared with you?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," you said, your voice breaking. "This whole thing is just... it's too much. I can't do this."
You turned towards the door, reaching for the handle. Carlos stepped forward, his anger dissipating, replaced by desperation.
"YN, wait," he pleaded. "Please, don't go. Not like this. Let's talk, mi amor. Don't run from me."
The term of endearment, spoken so softly, almost broke your resolve. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, torn between the urge to flee and the desire to fall into his arms.
"I... I can't, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I need some time. Some space to think."
"YN, please," Carlos said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can figure this out together. Just... stay. Please."
You turned to look at him one last time, your heart breaking at the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry," you managed to say. "I'll... I'll call you later."
And with that, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving Carlos standing alone in his room.
You immediately felt like you made a huge mistake.
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You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the TV screen. The sound was muted, the flickering images providing a distraction you desperately needed but couldn't quite focus on. Your phone lay face down on the coffee table, ignored despite the occasional vibration of incoming messages.
Your mind wandered to Carlos, it always did.
The memory of your argument played on repeat in your head, each hurtful word a fresh wound. You couldn't shake the image of his face - the hurt, the anger, the desperation in his eyes as you walked out the door. It haunted you.
Everything that had happened that night felt like a blur. The passion of your initial encounter, the tenderness of his touch, the way he called you "his girl" - it all seemed so perfect until your insecurities came crashing in. You wondered if you had overreacted, if you had let your fears get the best of you.
Carlos had been right about one thing - you did have a tendency to run when things got too real. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect yourself from getting hurt. But in doing so, were you sabotaging your own happiness, like he said?
The only thing you were sure about was that it wasn't physical attraction or the remaining tension of your bickering from last year anymore, Carlos saw you in a way no one else did, and that terrified you as much as it thrilled you.
Your conversation with Lando from earlier that day came back to you. You had called him in a moment of panic, spilling out all your fears and doubts. Lando, ever the unusual voice of reason, had listened patiently.
"YN," he had said, his voice gentle but firm, "you can't let your insecurities ruin what you and Carlos could have. I've known him for years, and I've never seen him like this with anyone else. He really cares about you."
"But what if it doesn't work out?" you had asked, your voice small. "What if we end up hating each other again?"
Lando had chuckled at that. "You two are so stubborn, you know that? You're both so afraid of letting your guard down that you're pushing each other away. Someone needs to take the first step, YN. And from what Carlos has told me, he's been trying. Maybe it's your turn."
His words echoed in your mind now, mixing with the memory of Carlos' plea for you to stay.
You made a huge mistake by walking away that night, and now you didn't know how to fix it.
A soft knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You hesitated, not wanting to face anyone, but another, more insistent knock followed.
"YN? It's me, open up," Oscar's voice called from the other side.
With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and shuffled to the door. When you opened it, your brother's concerned face greeted you.
"Hey," Oscar said softly, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. "Can I come in?"
You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Oscar walked in, his gaze taking in the dim lighting and the general disarray of your usually tidy living room. He turned to face you, worry etched across his features.
"What's going on, sis? I heard you're not going to Austria," he said, his voice gentle but probing. "And it looks like you haven't slept in days."
You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I just need a break," you mumbled, moving back to the couch and curling up in your previous position.
Oscar followed, sitting down beside you.
He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and familiar. "YN, talk to me. What's really going on? Is this about Carlos?"
At the mention of Carlos' name, you felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Oscar noticed your reaction and pulled you into a tight hug.
"Oh, sis," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "What happened?"
You buried your face in your brother's shoulder, finally letting the tears fall. Between sobs, you started to explain everything that had happened in Barcelona - the conversation with Kika and Alex, your growing insecurities, the night in Carlos's hotel room, your argument. As you spoke, you could feel the weight of the past week pressing down on you, the emotions you'd been bottling up threatening to spill over.
"…and now, I don't know what to do," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I've ruined everything."
"YN, listen to me. You haven't ruined anything," Oscar said, "Relationships are complicated, and misunderstandings happen. But from what you've told me and what I've seen, it sounds like Carlos cares about you a lot. And I think you care about him too, more than you're willing to admit to yourself."
"But what if it all goes wrong?" you wiped your eyes, sniffling. "What if we end up hating each other even more than we did before? What if... what if I'm not enough for him?"
Oscar shook his head, a small smile on his face. "You've always been your own worst enemy, you know that?" you almost rolled your eyes at he familiar statement. "Remember when I left for boarding school? You were so upset, convinced that I was leaving you behind forever. You didn't want to say goodbye, afraid it would hurt too much."
The memory flooded back, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "Yeah, I remember," you said softly.
"But do you remember what happened after?" Oscar prompted.
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We ended up talking more than ever. Phone calls, letters, video chats…"
"Exactly," Oscar said, squeezing your hand. "You were so scared of losing me that you almost pushed me away. But when you finally opened up, our relationship grew stronger than ever."
"That's different, Oscar. This is… it's Carlos. It's complicated."
"Is it?" Oscar challenged. "Or are you just making it complicated because you're scared? I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's not just some leftover tension from your rivalry. It's real."
You sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. "But what if-"
"No more 'what ifs'," Oscar interrupted. "You can't live your life afraid of what might happen. You're missing out on what's right in front of you," you were quiet for a moment, considering his words until he spoke again, "I know you’ve held back a lot in your life—for me, for our family—but I don’t want you holding back when it comes to Carlos.”
You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
Oscar hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I mean… I’ve seen how much you sacrifice for the people you love. You’ve put so much of your own life on hold to support me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But when it comes to Carlos—this thing between you—it’s different. I would never forgive myself if you sacrificed that for my sake.”
Your heart clenched at his words, and you realized how much Oscar understood you, maybe even more than you realized. “Oscar, I’m not holding back for you, I—”
“I know you’re not doing it consciously," he interrupted gently, "But I can see it. You’re worried about how our dynamic will change, or maybe how I’ll react. But, YN, I want you to be happy. If being with Carlos makes you happy, then I want you to go for it. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about anyone else.”
You sat there, absorbing what Oscar said. His words made you feel a lot of different things all at once. You realized he was right - you had been holding back, not just with Carlos, but in many parts of your life. This scared you, but also made you feel free.
It was time to put yourself first.
"I hate that you're always so wise, you're my little brother, I'm supposed to be the one giving you advice, not the other way around."
"To be fair, I was thrown into the motorsport world at an early age, you experience all kinds of drama there," he shrugged, making both of you laugh, "Now, are you going to talk to him, or do I need to drag you to Austria myself? Or even Madrid?"
You let out a small laugh, the first genuine one in days. "I guess I'll talk to him. But I still don't feel like going to Austria, I need some time to gather my thoughts."
"Fair enough," Oscar nodded, "Just don't take too long, okay? You both deserve to be happy. And Lando is freaking out because you're ruining his dreams again."
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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 397,538 others
ynpiastri i almost forgot how it felt to watch a race on tv. congratulations boys 🥳 and ty to my queen @carmenmmundt for the last picture
username2 the paddock is not the same without the most iconic piastri
lilyzneimer 🤍
carmenmmundt 😚😚
username3 im pretty sure this is the first time she’s not at a race since oscar’s f2 days
username4 THE 55 HELLO?????
username5 WHATS THEIR SHIP NAME?? PAINZ???
username6 she’s down bad for the smooth operator this is what i call enemies to lovers
landonorris You seem happy for my DNF…
↳ ynpiastri stfu
carlossainz55 ❤️
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You paced nervously in your apartment, your heart racing as you waited for Carlos to arrive. The soft carpet muffled your footsteps but did nothing to quiet the storm of thoughts in your head. You had rehearsed what you wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, all your carefully prepared words seemed to evaporate.
Your eyes flitted to the clock on the wall, then to your phone, checking the time for what felt like the thousandth time. The knock on the door made you jump, your pulse skyrocketing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "It's just Carlos," you told yourself, but that thought brought both comfort and a new wave of anxiety.
With trembling hands, you smoothed down your shirt and ran a hand through your hair before opening the door. Carlos stood there, looking tired but as handsome as ever. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it—a nervous habit you'd noticed before.
His eyes lit up when he saw you, a mix of relief and apprehension in his gaze. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions.
"Hi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped aside to let him in, hyper-aware of his presence as he moved past you.
"Hi," he replied, his voice warm as he entered.
You led him to the living room, settling on the couch. There was a moment of awkward silence, the tension palpable. You both opened your mouths to speak at the same time.
"I'm sorry—“
"I wanted to—"
You both laughed, some of the tension dissipating. The sound of his laughter, even tinged with nervousness, helped to ease some of your anxiety.
"You go first," Carlos said, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was patient, encouraging, and you drew strength from it.
You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing he deserved your full honesty. "Carlos, I'm so sorry for running away in Barcelona. It wasn't fair to you, and I've been kicking myself ever since. I… I panicked. Everything was happening so fast, and I just… I couldn't handle it."
He nodded, his expression understanding. He reached out to take your hand, his touch sending a shiver through you. "I appreciate that, YN. Truly. But I owe you an apology too. I shouldn't have pushed you or made assumptions about your feelings. I got caught up in the moment and didn't consider how overwhelming it might be for you."
"No, Carlos, you were right," you shook your head, squeezing his hand. "I do run away when things get too real. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to myself either."
You paused, gathering your courage. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Carlos must be able to hear it. "The truth is, I care about you. A lot. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. And that terrifies me."
Carlos moved closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The tenderness in his touch almost undid you. "Why does it terrify you, mi amor?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.
You leaned into his touch, feeling tears prick at your eyes. The vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you forced yourself to continue. "Because I'm not used to feeling this vulnerable. I've always prided myself on being independent, on not needing anyone. It's been my armor, my way of protecting myself. But with you… you see parts of me that I don't show anyone else. You've managed to slip past all my defenses, and it scares me how much I want to let you in completely."
Carlos listened intently, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you spoke. His warmth, his steady presence, made the walls you had built around yourself seem almost unnecessary.
"It's okay to be scared, hermosa. I understand why you feel like you need to protect yourself. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here, and I want to be here for you, with you."
Your heart swelled at his words, and despite the vulnerability, a small part of you felt lighter, freer. "I’ve never let anyone get this close before," you admitted. "But I don’t want to keep running, Carlos. I don’t want to keep pushing you away."
Carlos smiled softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "I don’t want you to run, either. I want us to be together, whatever comes next. But only if that’s what you want."
You exhaled shakily, emotions swirling inside you like a storm. "It is what I want," you said, your voice firm but laced with emotion. "I want to be with you. I’m tired of being scared of something that could be so good."
A look of pure relief crossed Carlos' face, and he pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling his heart beating steadily under your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he were afraid you might disappear.
"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, answering the unspoken fear that lingered between you both.
Carlos kissed the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that."
You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, "I promise I'll change, I'll be-"
"Mi amor," Carlos interrupted softly, "I don't want to change you. I fell for you exactly as you are—stubborn, brilliant, and fiercely independent. Those are the qualities that drew me to you in the first place."
You couldn't help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Even when I was being a pain in your ass?" you asked, a hint of your usual sass creeping into your voice.
"Especially then," he chuckled, the sound warming you from the inside out. "You know, even when we were at each other's throats, I was always drawn to you. I wanted to know you better, to understand what made you such a firecracker."
"Really?" you asked, surprised.
"Really," he confirmed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Besides, you were infuriatingly attractive when you were angry. The way your eyes would flash, the flush on your cheeks… it took everything in me not to kiss you right then and there sometimes."
You felt a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks at Carlos' words, but you couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips. "Oh, so that's why you were always trying to rile me up, huh? And here I thought you were just being an insufferable little bitch."
"Ah, there's the Piastri I know," Carlos threw his head back in laughter. "I was wondering when your sharp tongue would make an appearance."
"You love it," you teased, feeling more like yourself than you had in days.
"I do," he admitted, his eyes twinkling.
Carlos' gaze dropped to your lips. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn't want to. Not anymore.
Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was still afraid you might run. But as you responded, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.
When you finally pulled apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "I meant every word I said," he murmured. "I'm serious about this. I want to make this work."
You took a deep breath, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "I'm serious too, Carlos. It scares me how much I want this, but… I want to be with you."
The smile that broke across Carlos' face was radiant. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.
"You're still my little bitch after all," you couldn't help but laugh as you parted.
"When are you going to change that to something more romantic, hmm?" Carlos rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "'Mi amor,' perhaps? Or 'cariño'?"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I failed Spanish in high school?" you rolled your eyes back at him. "And I thought you liked it when I called you that. Didn't you say once that it turned you on?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," he said with a grin. "But how about this—you can call me your 'little bitch' if you want, but I get to call you my girlfriend. Deal?"
Your heart skipped a beat at the word 'girlfriend.' It should have scared you, but instead, it filled you with warmth.
"Deal," you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.
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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 402,726 others
ynpiastri fitting 💋
view all 4,688 comments
username1 OMGGGG
username2 ICONIC
alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂😂😂
username3 WHOS THE BOYFRIENDDDD
logansargeant Is this who I think it is? 👀
↳ ynpiastri little bitches everywhere
username4 THATS CARLOS CONFIRMED
username5 CARLOSYN PAINZ 😩
landonorris BITCH FINALLY
↳ username1 i bet lando manifested this
nicolepiastri We been knew since Singapore 2023, by the way
↳ ynpiastri MUM 😩
↳ username2 I LOVE YOU NICOLE PIASTRI
carlossainz55 ❤️
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The Hungarian Grand Prix had been a whirlwind of emotions. The entire paddock was still buzzing with excitement over Oscar's maiden Formula 1 victory.
Your little brother had driven the race of his life, leading most of the laps to take the checkered flag. The memory of him standing on the top step of the podium, eyes glistening with tears of joy as the Australian national anthem played, was one you'd cherish forever. The pride you felt was indescribable - your baby brother, the kid you'd watched grow up and chase his dreams, was now a Grand Prix winner.
It had been three blissful weeks since you and Carlos had officially become a couple. After your heartfelt conversation at your apartment, you had both taken the time to navigate this new phase of your relationship, and it had been everything you could have hoped for.
Telling your close friends and family was the easy part. Lando practically squealed with delight, Oscar and Carlos had a nice chat, and of course, Nicole Piastri, a fan of dragging her own kids, reminded everyone that you failed Spanish in high school multiple times, so Carlos had to make sure to constantly translate for you. The rest of the paddock had quickly caught on, and soon, Carlos Sainz and the eldest Piastri were the talk of the town.
But you didn't mind the attention. Being with Carlos felt so natural and right.
Now, as you sat in the airport waiting for your delayed flight to Monaco, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Sure, the hours-long delay was less than ideal, but you were surrounded by the people you cared about most, celebrating Oscar's first win with good old fasioned airport McDonalds.
"I can't believe Oscar got his first win," Lando exclaimed, already halfway through a Big Mac. "That's crazy, mate."
"I know, I still can't believe it," Oscar beamed, "It hasn't really sunk in yet."
You reached over to give your brother's arm an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Osc. You deserve it."
"Thanks, sister. Couldn't have done it without your support all these years."
"Oh, come on," you teased, "I didn't drive that car. That was all you out there."
"Yeah, but you've always been there," Oscar insisted, his voice softening. "Through the karting days, the junior formulas, all of it. It means a lot."
You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by your brother's words. You pulled Oscar into a tight hug, blinking back tears of pride and joy. "You're my little brother, Osc. I'll always be in your corner, no matter what."
Oscar returned the embrace, squeezing you tightly. "I know, YN. And I couldn't ask for a better cheerleader."
When you finally pulled apart, you noticed the others watching with fond smiles.
Across the lounge, Carlos was engaged in an animated conversation with Lando, their voices a low hum in the background. You couldn't help but watch him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the graceful movement of his hands as he gesticulated. Even in casual clothes, hair slightly mussed from the long day, he took your breath away.
As if sensing your gaze, Carlos looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The soft smile that spread across his face sent a flutter through your chest. You patted the empty spot next to you on the couch, a silent invitation. He nodded, excusing himself from his conversation with Lando, which couldn't help but tease about the two of you being codependent now.
"Missing me already, mi amor?" Carlos teased as he approached.
You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Don't flatter yourself, Sainz. I just didn't want you to strain your neck looking over here every five seconds."
Carlos chuckled as he sat down next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Ah, but how can I resist when the view is so beautiful?"
You snuggled into his side, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. "Smooth talker," you murmured, but there was no bite to your words.
"Only for you, hermosa," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun began to set through the large windows. The quiet was occasionally punctuated by laughter from where Oscar, Alex, and Lando were playing some sort of card game.
"How are you feeling?" you asked Carlos softly, noticing the slight droop to his shoulders.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tired," he admitted. "It's been a long few weeks. But happy," he added, squeezing you gently. "Very happy."
You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I'm glad. You drove amazingly this weekend, you know."
"Thank you," Carlos leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "It means a lot coming from you."
Carlos let out a contented sigh, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his cheek. "I can't wait for the summer break, you know?" he murmured. "Just you and me, in Mallorca. No distractions, no obligations..." he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm, his gaze holding yours. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Getting you all to myself, finally."
"That sounds perfect," you sighed happily. "Though I hope your plans also include plenty of time for just lounging around and doing absolutely nothing."
"Of course, whatever you want, hermosa."
"Whatever I want, huh?" you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. "That's a dangerous offer, Sainz."
"I think I can handle whatever you throw at me, Piastri," he grinned, leaning in closer.
You were about to reply when a french fry hit you squarely on the forehead. You turned to see Oscar looking at you with mock disgust.
"Seriously, you two? We're right here," he groaned.
"Oh, like you and Lily aren't just as bad," you retorted, throwing the fry back at him.
Oscar caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a grin. "At least we have the decency to be gross in private."
"I don't think I'll ever get used to see you all lovey-dovey," Lando chimed in.
"Shut up, Lando," you rolled your eyes, "I seem to recall you being the one who was pushing for this whole thing in the first place."
"Yeah, well," Lando shrugged, "I'm starting to think I preferred it when Carlos thought you were insufferable and you called him a 'little bitch'."
You couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing over at Carlos and pecking his cheek. "Oh, I still do."
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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri 403,664 others
ynpiastri my little brother, the grand prix winner 🥺
oscar, watching you stand on that top step today brought tears to my eyes. i still remember the day you left for boarding school to chase your racing dreams. i felt like i was losing my little brother, and a piece of my heart went with you.
but seeing you now, living your dream and achieving what so many thought impossible, all i can feel is an overwhelming sense of pride. you've grown into an incredible man and driver, but you'll always be that kid who used to steal my snacks and beg me to play race cars with him.
your journey hasn't been easy, through every challenge, every setback, you kept pushing. and now, here you are, a grand prix winner, battling with the best (and occasionally a spaniard little bitch 😩)
you've grown so much, but some things never change. like how we're celebrating this monumental victory - stuck in an airport, chowing down on mcdonald's.
username3 AHHH THE PICTURE OF HER AND CARLOS IN THE PLANE I CANT
username4 this is too pure as an eldest daughter im sobbing
username5 PAINZ CONFIRMED
carlossainz55 ❤️
↳ username1 he only comments hearts come on bro
username6 THE LANDOSCAR PIC🥺
oscarpiastri Sis, you've got me tearing up in the middle of this crowded airport. Your support has been the backbone of my journey, and I couldn't have done this without you. You've worn so many hats - cheerleader, mentor, occasional bodyguard (those Twitter wars were something else 😂 but look at you and Carlos now). But most importantly, you've been my rock. When Mum and Dad couldn't be there because of work, you stepped up. You've been my third parent in every way that counts. So yeah, we might be stuck in an airport eating McDonald's right now, but I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else. You're the best sister and 'bonus parent' a guy could ask for.
↳ ynpiastri bitch stop it my therapist has enough issues to deal with (ILYSM)
↳ username1 SHES SO REAL
↳ username2 OSCAR CONFIRMING CARLOS-YN
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TWITTER
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The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in oranges, pinks, and purples. The water was gently hitting the side of the yacht, making a calming sound. This peaceful feeling matched the quiet mood around you and Carlos.
You were sprawled out on the deck, lounging on plush cushions as the warm Mallorcan breeze caressed your skin. Carlos lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.
"You're staring," you murmured, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.
Carlos didn't even try to deny it. "How can I not?" he replied, his voice low and husky. "You're breathtaking, mi amor."
You felt a blush creep up your neck, still not entirely used to the way Carlos could make you feel with just a few words. "Flatterer," you teased, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.
He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly in contentment. When he opened them again, the look he gave you was filled with such warmth and adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.
"It's not flattery if it's true," Carlos insisted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you as his lips trailed up your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Carlos," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.
He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through you. "Yes, hermosa?"
"Kiss me," you demanded softly, tugging him closer.
Carlos was more than happy to oblige, capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.
When you finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his accent thicker than usual.
"Good. That's the plan," you grinned
Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You'll be the death of me, Piastri."
"But what a way to go," you quipped, running your hands down his back.
He chuckled against your skin, the sound sending pleasant vibrations through you. "Indeed."
As Carlos lifted his head to look at you again, something caught your eye over his shoulder. Squinting slightly, you realized what it was and couldn't help but let out a small sigh.
"What is it?" Carlos asked, noticing the change in your expression.
"Don't look now, but we've got company," you said, nodding slightly towards the distance. "Paparazzi, about a hundred meters out."
Carlos groaned, dropping his head back to your shoulder. "Can't we have one moment of peace?"
You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. "Hey, it's okay. We knew this was part of the deal."
"I know. I just… I want to keep you all to myself sometimes."
The possessiveness in his tone sent a thrill through you. "Well," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "if they're going to intrude on our privacy anyway, we might as well give them something to see."
Before Carlos could react, you pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, and decidedly more public-friendly than your previous ones. When you pulled back, Carlos looked slightly dazed.
"Dios mio, your family is going to see those," he shook his head, "What will Nicole Piastri think of me? Oscar will run me off the track, too."
You laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, please. My mum adores you, and you know it. As for Oscar, well… he'll just have to get used to it," you shrugged, "He was the one who encouraged this to happen anyway."
Carlos only shook his head with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his skin against yours.
When you finally broke apart, Carlos's eyes were soft, "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion.
You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "I failed Spanish, remember?" you teased gently, your heart racing in your chest.
Carlos's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "I think you know what that means," he replied, his gaze never leaving yours.
"I love you too, you little bitch."
Carlos let out a dramatic groan, but the affection in his expression was unmistakable. "I should have known the sappiness wouldn't last."
"Hey, you signed up for this," you teased, poking him playfully in the chest. "Might as well accept it."
Pulling you close, Carlos pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Gladly, mi amor. Gladly."
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ynpiastri he’s still a little bitch 😚
tagged: carlossainz55
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username1 AHHHH
username2 THIS HARD LAUCH
alexandrasaintmleux love to see you happy my girl 🥰
lilyzneimer 💓💓
username3 THIS is enemies to lovers
username4 i still can’t believe they’re together 😭 THEY HATED EACH OTHER
georgerussell63 WELL FINALLY
↳ alex_albon For real
↳ username1 THE ENTIRE GRID JUST KNEW
↳ ynpiastri why are all of you so damn nosy
↳ pierregasly Or you and Carlos were too obvious
↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂😂
oscarpiastri Yup, this is weird
↳ username1 OSCARRRR
oscarpiastri However, I’m really happy for you sister ❤️
↳ ynpiastri ily little indirect matchmaker
carlossainz55 You’ll never stop calling me that, won’t you hermosa?
summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz absolutely hate each other. carlos thinks she’s immature, yn calls him a little bitch on social media. they also kiss every now and then. PART TWO
word count: over 10k + social media posts
folkie radio: guys this fic is my baby okay 🥲🥲 please take care of it i spent like two weeks writing it. FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED !!
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
2023 SEASON
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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 87,635 others
ynpiastri that’s my optimistic little brother cry about it 😚 see y’all after the break
view all 1,207 comments
username1 LAJSIA SO MESSY
username2 yn really said you will NAWT mess with my little brother
lilyzneimer Love you forever 😂
↳ ynpiastri ilysm
username3 the sainz - piastri drama just spiced this season up
mclaren That’s our boy 🧡
username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri fighting on the internet and oscar is just 🧍
username5 the fact that daniel ricciardo and pierre gasly liked yn’s tweet too 😭
landonorris Stop fighting people on the internet please
↳username1 HELP HIS BESTIES ARE FIGHTING
↳ ynpiastri never 😤
oscarpiastri When nobody got me I know my messy sister got me
↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SM
↳ yourinstagram HE SAID NO PICKLES !!
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"You didn't have to tweet that," Oscar said, giving you a look from his seat.
You were currently traveling from Belgium to Monaco in McLaren's private jet after the race weekend, and the main topic of the day was your little message to Carlos Sainz after his statement about your brother.
"Osc, he's being a petty bitch," you shrugged, "He keeps blaming you for what happened on the track and we all know it was his fault."
"Lando, can you help me out please?" Oscar looked at his teammate, who was immersed on his phone as a way to avoid the conversation.
"Oh no, don't put me in the middle of this," Lando shook his head, "I have enough PR issues myself."
"We know you're siding with your bestie anyways," you said, making him roll his eyes.
This dynamic was nothing new. Lando and Carlos Sainz were best friends, and so were Lando and you. The issue? You couldn't stand Carlos at all, and Lando was always in the middle of your bickering.
Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced out of the window. "Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, but sometimes it's better to let things slide. Engaging with him on social media only adds fuel to the fire."
He had a point. Deep down you knew it, however, your were short tempered and protective towards your loved ones, so it was natural that you took the chance to come for Sainz's neck when he gave you a reason to.
"I get it, Osc. I just can't stand seeing him drag your name through the mud when you're not even at fault," you stressed, "You're my little brother, I'll always get protective, you know?"
"I know, and I appreciate you having my back," Oscar said, softening his tone. "But it's not worth it. Like you said, I'm not engaging with whatever he's saying so there's no point of starting stuff."
"He started it, I'm just finishing it," you shrugged, and Oscar gave you a pointed look, you were older than him, but he was definitely more mature than you. "Fine, I'll try to hold back next time," you sighed, leaning back in your seat.
Lando finally looked up from his phone, a smirk on his face. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now, can we all be friends?"
"If that includes Sainz then no, we can't,"
You could never be friends with Carlos Sainz. That was literally impossible.
For starters, you were pretty sure he didn't even know your name, he was always too full of himself to even acknowledge those around him.
And lastly, he was a bitch to your brother on and off track.
"I just, I would really like for you two to get along," Lando said and you immediately rolled your eyes at his words, "You're both important to me, and it sucks being caught in the middle. Plus I don't even understand why do you dislike him so much."
You knew the real reason why you disliked him so much, you perfectly did. However, that was a subject that you decided to ignore every single time.
"Honestly? I find him arrogant. He always acts like he's the center of the universe. He never takes responsibility for his actions and always tries to shift the blame onto others. It's frustrating to watch."
Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you have to understand, Carlos is actually a good guy once you get to know him. He's passionate and competitive, sure, but he's also loyal and a great friend."
"I get that he's like your hero or something," you teased, "But it's not going to happen, Lando. I don't think I'll ever like Carlos, and I really wish you’d stop pushing the subject."
"Look, you don't have to be his best friend or something," Oscar intervened, "Just promise me you won't punch him when you see him in the paddock after the summer break."
"No promises."
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ynpiastri a weekend in monaco with some of my favorite people 🤍 back to race cars soooon (love being a nepo sister)
francisca.cgomes having major fomo rn, love you all babies 🥲
↳ ynpiastri get over hereeeee
username3 she has the dream life
charles_leclerc Stop stealing my girlfriend from me thank you
↳ ynpiastri never
↳ alexandrasaintmleux We’re like this 👩❤️💋👩
↳ charles_leclerc Don’t do this to me
lilyzneimer 🤍
oscarpiastri I think you just invented the term “nepo sister”
↳ ynpiastri and i’m too iconic for that
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Going to Jimmy'z the last day of the summer break was a tradition among the drivers at this point.
You looked forward to it, for you, nothing could beat a night of loud music, drinks and friends. You thought that was the reason you got along with Lando and quickly became best friends.
“Ready to tear up the dance floor?” Lando shouted over the music, giving you smirk
“Always!” you replied, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the center of the action, Oscar and Lily being their introvert selves decided to stay at the table with some of your friends.
After a few songs, you returned to the table to catch your breath and order another round of drinks.
Oscar looked up from his conversation with Lily and smiled as you approached.
“Having fun?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a seat next to him. “You two should join us on the dance floor.”
Lily laughed softly. “Maybe later. Right now, we’re enjoying people-watching.”
“Suit yourselves,” you said, shrugging, "I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything?"
Oscar shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."
"I'll have another gin and tonic," Lily said, giving you a warm smile.
"Got it," you replied, turning towards the bar.
As you made your way through the crowded club, you found an open spot at the bar and flagged down the bartender. As you waited for your drinks, you felt someone step up beside you. Glancing to your left, you saw the last person you wanted to run into tonight... or ever.
Carlos Sainz was standing there with what you called his "resting bitch face" and acting like he owned the place.
You knew chances of him being at Jimmy'z for the last day of the summer break were high and you had decided earlier that you were just going to ignore him for the night if you ever ran into him. After all, you were there to have fun, not to get into a confrontation. But you were known for being short-tempered, a stark contrast to your brother's laid-back demeanor.
When you heard Carlos order his drink without so much as a “please,” you couldn't help but call him out.
"Whiskey, neat," he ordered, his tone clipped and lacking any form of politeness, his Spanish accent that you found absolutely irritating coming through.
“A 'please' would be nice, you know,” you interjected.
Carlos turned to you, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” you replied coolly. “It's not hard to be polite.”
"Do I know you?" Carlos stared at you for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh you're Piastri's sister, aren't you?”
“That I am,” you confirmed, your tone equally cold.
“Figures," Carlos scoffed, shaking his head, "You’re the one who sent me that lovely message on Twitter.”
“You deserved every word,” you replied, crossing your arms.
“Did I now?” Carlos leaned closer, his expression hardening. “You don't even know the whole story. You just assume I'm the bad guy because of Oscar."
“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you never take responsibility for your actions. You always blame someone else.”
“And what about you?," Carlos’s jaw tightened, "Hiding behind your keyboard, throwing insults. That's real mature.”
“Someone had to say it,” you replied, refusing to back down. “You can't just go around acting like you're untouchable.”
“And you can't go around thinking you're some kind of vigilante,” Carlos retorted. “Can't your little brother handle things himself?.”
“Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, people wouldn't have to call you out,” you snapped, feeling your temper flare.
Carlos sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don't have time for this. Just stay out of my way, alright?”
“Gladly,” you replied, turning away from him.
When you rejoined your friends, they noticed your tense expression. Lando shot you a questioning look, but you just shook your head.
"Ask you bestie," you simply said and Lando threw his head back in frustration, once again, he was in the middle of his two best friends tension.
“I’ll talk to him," Lando said, sipping on his drink.
"Don't bother, he's a bitch."
Later that night, Lando found Carlos near the dancefloor chatting with some friends. He pulled him aside, needing to get to the bottom of the latest incident.
“What happened with YN now?” Lando asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
Carlos shrugged before speaking, “I was minding my own business, ordering a drink, and she just came at me."
“And?” Lando raised an eyebrow.
“And she’s just so immature and arrogant,” Carlos continued, “She’s always ready to pick a fight over the smallest things. It’s embarrassing.”
Lando shook his head. “Look, Carlos, YN is protective of Oscar. She sees you two butting heads and she gets defensive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like she’s completely unreasonable.”
“Well, she sure seems unreasonable to me," Carlos crossed his arms, "I don’t know how you deal with it.”
Lando sighed. “She’s my friend, and so are you. I wish you two could just get along, but I know that’s asking a lot. Just... try to give her a bit of slack, alright? She’s not a bad person.”
"She's insufferable."
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ynpiastri has added to their stories
carlossainz55 replied to your story
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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 168,373 others
ynpiastri little bitches everywhere, always a pleasure monza
tagged: landonorris, charles_leclerc
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username1 HEEEELP
username2 she’s so messy we needed this 😭
lilyzneimer I can’t wait to hear this rant in person
↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN
username3 IS THIS CARLOS SHADEEEE
username4 not her adding the radio message
landonorris I would like to be excluded from this narrative
↳ ynpiastri scared of your boyfriend??
↳ username2 THEY’RE SO TALKING ABOUT CARLOS 😭
charles_leclerc Did you call me a little bitch?
↳ ynpiastri you’re literally the only ferrari i like..
↳ username3 she really hates carlos i’m screaming
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The Ferrari hospitality was the last place you wanted to be during a Grand Prix, the mere thought of it being the place where Sainz (or as you liked to call him, the little bitch), was most likely to be kept you away from it.
However, Alex told you to meet her there after the Qualifying so you could leave together for dinner. Oscar and Lando already left with the rest of the team, so you had no choice but to wait for your friend.
"Looking for someone, hermosa?" your eyes immediately rolled without even turning around to see who was speaking, the thick Spanish accent that you despised filling your ears.
"Not for you, that's for sure," you said, not even bothering to face him.
"Are you sure? Because this is not the McLaren garage, did your little bro finally kick you out or something?"
"Sainz," you retorted sharply, finally turning to face him, "Shouldn't you be busy making excuses for your next mediocre performance on track?"
"Ah, always so angry, Piastri," he chuckled, unfazed by your hostility, "Maybe you're just frustrated because you're not getting enough attention. I could help with that."
"I don't need or want anything from you," you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.
Carlos leaned casually against a nearby wall, his smirk widening. "Come on, hermosa, you know you've got a temper. Maybe you just need to let off some steam."
Hermosa, the word he used often when he wanted to get to your skin. When you first heard it, you had no idea of what it meant. You were never good at learning Spanish growing up. But after a quick google translation search you found out that it meant beautiful. And for some reason you felt like throwing up.
"Believe me, Sainz, you're the last person I'd ever turn to," you replied icily, folding your arms across your chest, "And don't call me that."
He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You wondered how Lando could be friends with him when he was nothing but an arrogant little bitch, and you cursed Alexandra for taking so long to get her stuff from hospitality.
"I hope you know that you have some serious issues, Sainz," you said, your patience wearing thin as his cocky stare weighted on you.
"Issues? Me?," Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your anger, "I think you're the one with the problem, querida. Like I said, maybe you need to get laid. I could help you with that, your brother won't find out."
Your eyes narrowed, your blood boiled to the point where you could feel your skin burning up. If it wasn't for the all the people around, you swore you could've punched him.
You took a step closer to him, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I hope your car sets itself on fire so you're not able to race tomorrow."
Carlos's smirk only widened, he was well aware that he got into your skin and he enjoyed every minute of it. Before he could respond, Alex finally appeared, her eyes flicking between the two of you with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Ready to go?" she asked, sensing the tension.
"More than ready," you replied, shooting Carlos one last glare before turning to leave with Alex.
The next day, news spread quickly through the paddock that Carlos' car had suffered a mechanical failure during the warm-up, rendering him unable to compete in the Qatar Grand Prix. Meanwhile, Oscar had won the Sprint and finished P2 in the race.
Karma got that little bitch, you thought to yourself
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ynpiastri season over and out. super proud of you, rookie of the year @/oscarpiastri 🥹
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username1 i’m going to miss this season sm
username2 proud sisssss
mclaren One for the books 🧡
username3 thank you for fighting sainz online all season long bestie
landonorris Little Oscar is all grown up now
↳ ynpiastri don’t say that i’ll cry
lilyzneimer 🫶🫶🫶
username4 highlight of the season was the piastri - sainz beef
↳ username1 not for lando 😭
oscarpiastri Thank you for always supporting me (creating drama online and all) Love you so much ❤️
↳ ynpiastri that’s what big sisters are for
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The end of the 2023 season was a blur of celebrations, laughter, and champagne showers. Oscar had closed off the season as the Rookie of the Year and you couldn't be more proud of him, you were grateful you got to be by his side through it.
And of course, with the end of the season a celebration at Jimmy'z was in order, all drivers, their girlfriends and friends pulling up to Monaco for one last night of partying before the winter break.
You had stuck close to Lando and Oscar for most of the evening, since it was a special occasion, you decided not to hold back with your drinking and have as much fun as you wanted, Lando being your partner in crime as always.
So by 2 a.m, you were pretty drunk, not to the point where you couldn't stand on your own feet, but drunk enough to make a couple of bad decisions.
With that thought on your mind, you decided that it was time to find your brother or best friend and call it a night. But for some reason, both of them were nowhere to be found.
Stumbling through the crowded dance floor, you made your way toward the back of the club, hoping to spot them. The alleyway was dark and you couldn't see a single thing, but they weren't definitely back there.
"Fancy seeing you here, hermosa," a voice behind drawled, almost making you jump.
"What the actual fuck!" you said, holding a hand to your chest.
Of course it was fucking Carlos Sainz, once again
"You scared the hell out of me!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, "Do you hide in dark alleyways like a creep all the time?"
"Slow down, hermosa, why are you so angry all the time?" his Spanish accent was thicker than usual, a clear sign that he was as tipsy as you were.
"I'm not in the mood for your games tonight," you retorted, trying to brush past him.
"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble," he said, blocking your path with an easy grace. "Though you do seem to find me wherever you go."
"Only because you insist on being everywhere I am," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.
"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm," he teased, leaning casually against the wall.
"Charm? Is that what you call it?" you scoffed, "More like arrogance and an inflated ego."
"Arrogance? No. Confidence? Absolutely," he replied with a smirk, "And I think you secretly like it."
"You're delusional," you muttered, feeling the alcohol clouding your judgment. "I can't stand you."
"Is that so?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you seem pretty invested in this conversation for someone who supposedly hates me."
True
"Maybe because you won't let me leave," you said, your voice rising in frustration.
"Or maybe because you've spent the entire season trying to get my attention by being rude to me and blasting me on social media, calling me a little bitch and all."
"I was defending Oscar," you snapped. "You kept messing with him on track. Someone had to call you out."
Carlos shook his head, his cocky smirk even bigger now. "It was never about Oscar, and you know it."
"God, I hate you," you said, ready to walk away but he blocked your way one more time.
"No, you don't," he replied, a knowing smile on his lips. "You just hate that you can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever I'm around."
"You're really are such a little bitch," you spat, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt a strange thrill.
"And you're a firecracker, Piastri. That's what makes this so fun."
"You're so full of yourself," you retorted, but the words lacked their usual bite. The alcohol was making it hard to keep up your defenses, and Carlos's close proximity was doing strange things to your resolve.
"Maybe," he conceded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I think you like it more than you let on."
Before you could argue back, Carlos took another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to pull away.
"You're infuriating," you muttered, your heart pounding in your chest.
"And you," he said, his breath warm against your ear, "are insufferable."
Without another word, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss. It was a collision of anger, frustration, and undeniable chemistry, and you couldn't help but respond in kind.
Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
What the hell was happening?
For a moment, all the animosity, all the bickering, melted away. It was messy, it was intense, and it was everything you hadn't realized you wanted.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you could see the same mix of surprise and desire reflected in Carlos' eyes.
Before either of you could say anything, you were interrupted by Lando's voice calling out your name. You quickly stepped back, putting some distance between you and Carlos as Lando approached, a curious look on his face.
"Everything okay here?" Lando asked, glancing between the two of you.
"Just fine," you replied, giving Carlos a final, challenging look. "Just fine."
Carlos nodded, his smirk returning. "See you around, Piastri."
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texts between lando and yn
texts between carlos and lando
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2024 SEASON
Formula 1 was back and in full swing. And with that your "nepo sister" privileges, which included traveling with Oscar for races came back too.
You were excited for this season, Oscar was no longer a rookie and he had a lot to prove, and you couldn't wait to see him rise to the challenge.
In addition to that, this season was going to be extra interesting, since the news of your least favorite driver on the grid (or at least the one you swore you hated) being replaced by Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari were announced a few weeks prior.
"Did you hear the news?" Oscar asked, making his way to you.
"What news?" you replied, setting down your coffee cup.
"Lewis Hamilton is moving to Ferrari next season," Oscar said, watching your reaction closely.
Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? So the little bitch is out?"
Oscar nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be an interesting season."
Carlos Sainz was both a source of irritation and inexplicable attraction. You had tried to push the memory of that kiss at Jimmy'z to the back of your mind all winter long, but you just couldn't stop thinking about it.
Plus, Lando was firm on his mission of making wither of you confess that apparently you "liked each other", which made ignoring the whole situation even harder.
You just hoped that he would keep it chill this season, not bothering either you or Oscar so you could just pretend he didn't exist.
With that thought on your mind, you made your way back to the hotel. You spent the day exploring around Bahrain with Oscar and Lando, and now you were ready to unwind in your room. The boys deciding to spend a few more hours walking around before heading back.
Once in the lobby, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a familiar hand slipped in, forcing them open.
Carlos Sainz stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say.
"Not going to say hello, querida?" he said after a few seconds of complete silence from you, leaning against the elevator wall.
"Carlos. Still popping up where you're least wanted, I see," you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.
"Missed you too, Piastri," he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stand closer you, "How was your break?"
"Great, thanks for asking," you replied coolly. "Did you enjoy yours, planning how to be a pain to other drivers this season too?"
"Is that really how you want to start our first conversation of the season?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, "I though we've left that in the past, specially after what happened at the end of last year."
You tensed at his statement. More than once during the break, you wondered if he remembered what happened that night. He was as drunk was you were, if not more, so you convinced yourself that he had forgotten about it.
"I don't remember much from that night. Must have been the champagne."
Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Oh, I think you remember perfectly well. Especially the kiss."
Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," he said with a chuckle. "But fine, we'll pretend it never happened. For now."
"Good," you replied sharply. "Because I have no intention of discussing it."
"Maybe you're playing dumb because you want me to kiss you again," Carlos teased, making you throw your head back in frustration.
"I'd rather choke on my own spit, little bitch,"
"Ahh, missed hearing that," Carlos said, his tone cocky and satisfied with your frustration. You mentally cursed the elevator for taking so long to get to your fucking floor.
"You know what? I hope you don't find a seat for next season at all. You act like a total peacock when everyone knows you're basically unemployed right now," you spitted out before you could even think twice.
Carlos raised an eyebrow, his expression momentarily serious. "Low blow, Piastri. Even for you."
You held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "Just stating the obvious."
The elevator finally dinged, announcing your floor, and you stepped out swiftly, eager to end the conversation before it could escalate further.
Carlos Sainz had a way of getting under your skin like no one else, and the season had only just begun.
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ynpiastri and we’re back 🏁 i promise to make this season drama free
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username1 ICON IS BACKKKK
username2 nooo we need you to keep dragging sainz
mclaren Our favorite nepo sister 🧡
↳ ynpiastri that’s meeee
username3 yn always gives us lily x oscar content bless her
charles_leclerc What if I need you to fight someone from the grid for me?
↳ ynpiastri you know there’s one person i would gladly drag through the mood
↳ username1 HER HATRED FOR CARLOS LIVES
lilyzneimer love youuu✨
oscarpiastri Cute picture of me and Lily, thank u sis
↳ ynpiastri i’m just here for my babies 🫡
landonorris I know your reasons
↳ ynpiastri you’re so strange sometimes
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It was a sunny day in Melbourne, and the paddock was buzzing with excitement. The Australian Grand Prix was always a favorite, and this year was no exception.
You felt good to be back home, you always felt proud when you saw Oscar on the track, but seeing him racing in your home country was something even more special.
Carlos was also back from his emergency surgery and ready to race again. And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were relieved to see him back and healthy. The news of his appendicitis had shocked you more than you’d expected, and you’d found yourself genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.
I'm just being a decent human being, you tried to convince yourself, It would be really scary if that happened to Oscar or Lando.
Walking through the paddock, you looked for a familiar face to hang out with before it was time for the track action to start, spotting Lando's back talking to someone you couldn't quite identify, you decided to approach him.
As you got closer, Lando shifted slightly, revealing the person he was talking to, Carlos.
He looked well, a healthy glow back in his cheeks, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing his team gear, the Ferrari red suiting him perfectly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and despite the casual setting, he looked effortlessly handsome for someone who had a major surgery just two weeks ago.
Your stomach did a little flip. You hated to admit it, but lately your hatred towards Carlos had cooled down. Maybe it was the memory of that kiss, seeing him vulnerable after his surgery or the fact that he had been decent to Oscar so far. You couldn't deny that there was something about him that made you feel… softer.
However, you decided to ignore those thoughts and feelings every time they got to your head, because at the end of the day, there was no way he could ever feel or think the same way. It was better to keep hating each other.
Lando noticed you approaching and gave you a teasing grin. "Hey, YN! Look who’s back from the dead!"
Carlos turned to face you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, Piastri," he greeted with a warm smile. "Back to your home turf, huh?"
"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the flutter in your chest. "It feels good to be back."
Lando gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," he said, winking at you before walking away, leaving the two of you alone.
You stood there for a moment, awkward silence filling the air. Maybe he was still tired from what he had been through, but he didn't show any signs of cockiness or wanting to annoy you this time.
"You look well," you finally said, your voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you're back."
Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I heard you were worried about me."
"Don't let it go to your head," you replied quickly, though the usual bite in your tone was missing. You felt a bit embarrassed that he knew, "I’m just being a decent human being."
"Of course," Carlos said, his voice nonchalant, "Decent human being, sure."
"I’m serious," you insisted, though your voice lacked the usual edge. "But I am glad you’re okay. It must have been scary."
Carlos’s expression softened. "It was. But I had good doctors, and I’m ready to race again. Thanks for worrying."
There was silence again, and you noticed that this was the first time you and Carlos had an interaction that didn't include biting each other's heads off.
It felt nice.
"Well," you said after a minute of silence, "don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you had surgery. You're still on my watch."
"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Carlos smirked, "But for the record, it’s nice to see you care, even if you won’t admit it."
"Don't push your luck, Sainz," you warned, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice.
"I wouldn't dare, Piastri."
"I should get going," you said, pointing towards the McLaren hospitality, "Good luck out there."
As you turned to walk away, Carlos's voice stopped you in your tracks.
You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in question.
"You know, this is the first time you don't call me a little bitch," Carlos said, a small playing on his face.
"What, you miss it already? Does it turn you own?"
"Maybe a little," Carlos chuckled, "Keeps things interesting."
You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face.
"Well, good luck out there, little bitch."
You didn't wait to see his reaction, but you knew he was grinning from ear to ear.
Later that day, Carlos crossed the finish line first and won the Australian Grand Prix, sending the crowd into a frenzy. You watched as Carlos celebrated on the podium, spraying champagne with Lando and Charles and holding up the winner's trophy with pride.
You swore you played it cool, but everyone around you noticed the huge smile on your face.
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ynpiastri you’ll always find your way back hoooome 🎶
↳ username1 how pissed do you think she was bc he won in australia
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"You're not my best friend," Lando said, sitting on the plush couch of your hotel room, watching as you put a sweatshirt on, "You've been replaced with an alien or an evil twin, there's no way you're YN Piastri."
"Can you quit being dramatic," you rolled your eyes at him, "It's no big deal."
"You're grabbing sushi with Carlos Sainz," he stressed, moving his hands to emphasize, "You hate Carlos Sainz, it's been an issue for me for the last year because both of you force me to pick sides and I have to make sure you don't kill each other. And now you're suddenly going on dates."
"This is not a date," you protested, "Don't even say that out loud, it's gross."
"Then what is it? Because he asked you out and you said yes, that's literally a date."
You didn't give him a reply right away, hiding behind your your busy hands as you pretended to adjust your sweatshirt.
Truth was, you didn’t have an answer, at least not one that made sense. You couldn't blame Lando for thinking you've been replaced with someone else, because you'd never accept anything from Carlos last year, let alone willingly grab dinner with him.
But here you were, about to head out to meet him.
"I just want free dinner," you shrugged, "And he offered to buy it, so I'm taking advantage of it."
"Sure, free dinner," Lando gave you a skeptical look, crossing his arms, "Because you’ve never had other options for free dinner before, right? Your brother is rich, he could buy you whatever you want."
You huffed, trying to sound annoyed but feeling a bit defensive. "It's just sushi, Lando. Stop making it a big deal."
"You know, it's okay if you like him," he said, his tone genuine. "I mean, I get why you're hesitant, but it's fine to have feelings for someone, even if it's Carlos Sainz."
"Are you out of your mind?" you immediately said, your voice sharper than intended, "We're talking about the little bitch, what on earth makes you think that I could have feelings for him other than disgust and irritation."
"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're getting ready to get dinner with him, or that you were on the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was recovering from the surgery, or the time I almost caught you kiss-"
"God, just shut up," you interrupted him, "Oscar would understand. He knows I'm never going to get all lovey-dovey over Carlos."
"Oscar might buy whatever you tell him," Lando raised an eyebrow, "But that doesn't mean you're being honest with yourself. It's not the end of the world to admit you might have a crush."
"I do not have a crush on him," you insisted, your cheeks heating up. "It's just... complicated."
"Complicated how?" Lando pressed, leaning forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You’re intrigued by him, he’s intrigued by you, and you both can’t seem to stay away from each other."
You let his words sink in, Lando might be a year younger than you, and often perceived as a carefree guy who didn't have a serious bone in his body. But in reality, he was a very wise person who understood the complexities of situations better than most.
That was one of the reasons why he was your best friend.
"Look, it’s not that simple," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "We have history, and not the good kind. I don't trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me either. We're just… trying to be civil for once."
"That's good," Lando stood up from the couch, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Honestly I was tired of dealing with your constant bickering, if you didn't kiss and make up on your own, I was going to lock you up in a closet until you resolved it."
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ynpiastri just decent human being things
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username1 BESTIEEEE
username2 THIS LOOKS LIKE A DATE
alexandrasaintmleux I just texted you !!!
↳ username1 LET ME INNNN
f1gossip 👀
username3 CARLOS SAINZ ???
↳ username1 girl no way they hate each other
↳ username2 he’s in the likes tho 😭
landonorris IM FREEEEE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFEEEE
↳ username1 wtfffff
oscarpiastri Answer my texts right now please
↳ username1 IM SCREAMING
↳ username2 OSCAR 😩
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After a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, you and Carlos walked back to the hotel. The sushi had been surprisingly good, and the conversation… surprisingly pleasant.
The bickering between you was still present, but this time it wasn't harsh or spiteful, it was playful and and light-hearted. The tension that usually accompanied your interactions had lessened, and you actually acted friendly towards each other.
"I still can't believe you made me try that weird seaweed thing," you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked.
"You loved it, admit it," Carlos chuckled.
"Maybe a little," you conceded with a small smile, "How did you know this place anyways?"
"I like reading restaurant reviews online," he shrugged, "It's a random hobby of mine, and I'm going to need those in case I don't have a job next year."
You paused, his words sinking in. Carlos joked about it, but you knew the uncertainty of his future in Formula 1 must be horrible. The sport is cutthroat, and the thought of not finding a seat to race must be weighing on him heavily. It made you think about Oscar, and how that could happen to him too.
"I'm sorry for saying that I hope you don't find a seat next season," you blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt. "You're right, that was low, even for me."
"Are you really apologizing, Piastri?" he teased, "First you cared about my health, now you apologize. What's next? You'll stop calling me a little bitch?"
You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. "Don't push your luck, Sainz. Just take the apology and run with it."
"Alright, I'll take it," Carlos laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat, "You must be praying I stay just so you have an excuse to argue with me, aren't you?"
"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, grinning. "I can argue with anyone."
"But you like arguing with me the most," he said, his voice softening.
You didn't reply, the truth in his words making your heart race. From the corner of your eye, you saw the satisfied grin on his face.
Soon enough you reached the hotel lobby, and once you walked through the doors you spotted Charles and Alexandra by the reception desk.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Charles called out, drawing the attention of Alex, who looked at you with raised eyebrows.
"Just coming back from dinner," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "What are you two up to?"
"We were just about to head up," Alexandra said, linking her arm with Charles's. "How was dinner?"
"Surprisingly good," Carlos said, glancing at you with a smirk.
Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "This is new. You two actually getting along?"
"Don't get used to it," you said, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted free dinner."
"Right," Charles said, not convinced. "Well, we're heading up, you coming?"
You all piled into the elevator, the small space filled with a mix of comfortable silence and light conversation. When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out, Carlos following close behind.
"Goodnight, guys," Alex called out as the elevator doors closed, giving you a look that screamed 'TEXT ME ASAP'
Carlos walked you to your room, the hallway dimly lit and quiet. As you walked side by side, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent small shivers down your spine.
"So, the only reason you agreed to come with me tonight was because you wanted free dinner?" Carlos asked once you reached your room.
"Exactly, what else do you think would make me want to spend an evening with you?"
Carlos chuckled, leaning against the wall beside your door. "I don't know, maybe my charming personality and good looks?"
"Charming?" you raised your eyebrows at him, "You're literally the most annoying person I know."
"Likewise, Piastri," Carlos shot back, his smirk widening, "But here we are, aren't we?"
"You really think you're that special, don't you?" you said, rolling your eyes.
"I know I am, querida," Carlos replied, stepping closer. "And you can't get enough of me."
You looked away from him, his stare suddenly becoming overwhelming. He was really close, as close as he was the night you kissed at Jimmy'z, and even thinking about it has your neck crawling away in sweat.
"See? You can't even deny it." Carlos grinned, his eyes locking onto yours again, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer.
"Don't get any ideas," you warned, but your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it.
"I can't help it," he said softly, his face now inches from yours. "You bring out the best in me, Piastri."
"I still hate you," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned in even closer.
"No, you don't," Carlos whispered back, his lips brushing against yours.
Before you could protest, he closed the distance and kissed you. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, the kiss deepened, becoming more intense and filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.
Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you kissed him back, losing yourself in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a small smile playing on Carlos's lips.
"Goodnight, Piastri," he whispered, his voice husky.
Unable to move from your spot, you watched him walk through the corridor and disappear into the elevator doors, your mind still blurry about what happened just seconds ago.
You were fucked.
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A playlist full of pop classics played as you got ready for Lando's millionth win celebration.
He took the win at the Miami Grand Prix and the next following days were full of partying and champagne. You were beyond happy for him, and willing to put up with his multiple celebrations of his well deserved win.
This time, the setting was not that over the top, just a casual dinner at his place in Monaco with his close friends.
"Can I come in?" you heard after a knock on Oscar's guest bedroom, the place where you stayed when visiting Monaco.
"Sure," you replied, quickly meeting with your brother's figure.
Oscar entered the room, a casual grin on his face. He glanced around before his eyes settled on you. "Are you almost ready?"
"Yeah," you replied, adjusting an earring. "I hope this is Lando's last celebration, I can't keep up anymore.
"He's definitely on a roll," Oscar chuckled, "You know, Carlos is going to be there."
"I know," you said, looking away from him for a moment and trying to keep your tone nonchalant.
"You do?" Oscar raised a eyebrow.
"He's Lando's best friend, Osc, it's obvious he'll be there."
Oscar nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Right, of course. But you two have been getting close lately, haven't you? You didn't even come for his neck after Miami, and you always do that."
You sighed, knowing where this conversation was heading. There was no denying that there was something between you and Carlos, your friends might not know about the times you've kissed, but they definitely noticed the shift in your behavior towards each other.
You found yourself enjoying his company, looking forward to catch a glimpse of him every weekend and craving his touch. You don't know if he feels the same way, but the way he looks at you and finds ways to get you alone tells you he does.
Admitting this to Oscar felt like crossing a line, even though he had always encouraged you to be open about your feelings.
"We're just… getting along better. That's all," you muttered, "And you asked me to behave on social media this season, I'm trying to do that."
"That's bullshit, YN," Oscar shook his head, a teasing smile forming on his lips, "Come on, admit it. Maybe the real reason you didn't attack him this time is because you like him."
"Oscar, we're not having this conversation," you quickly became defensive, "I don't know why everyone insist on something that's far from the truth. I don't like Sainz."
"Sis, it's okay if you like him," Oscar said, his tone gentle but insistent. "You don't have to hide it from me."
You looked away, feeling conflicted. Ever since you first met Carlos, there was something about him that intrigued you, however, you were too caught up in convincing yourself that he would never see you as more than his brand new rival's sister. Things getting worse when his incidents with Oscar on track started and you took that as an opportunity to be reckless to him.
It was a self defense mechanism for your own feelings.
"It's complicated, okay?" you said, feeling vulnerable but knowing you could trust him, "We spent last year coming from each other's necks all the time, but now he's nice to me and I am too, we spend time together, we kiss. But at the same time, I feel like I can't trust him, that he's going to switch to little bitch mode again and I'll end up feeling stupid for potentially catching feelings."
"Holy shit you've kissed!" Oscar said, his eyes widening, "Lando was right all along."
"Oh god, I shouldn't have said anything," you threw your head back in frustration.
"Sorry, sorry," he put his hands up in defense, "But It's okay to feel confused. You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother, and I just want you to be happy. I can tell that this is really bothering you."
You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't know what to do, Osc. One minute I think I might actually like him, and the next I'm terrified of getting hurt."
"Look, I know Carlos can be intense on track, but off track? He's a good guy," Oscar sat beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "When he's not trying to push me off the track, he's really supportive and a nice guy. There's a reason why Lando adores him. Plus, maybe he's figuring things out too."
You leaned into Oscar's side, grateful for his comforting presence. "Do you really think so?"
"Yeah, I do," Oscar nodded reassuringly. "And you deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. If Carlos could make you happy, then why not see where it goes?"
"When did you become so wise?" you teased, giving him a small smile, "You're supposed to be my annoying little brother who picks his nose and runs around the house."
"Hey, I can be wise when I want to be," Oscar chuckled, giving you a playful shove, "But don't worry, I'll always be your annoying little brother, nose-picking and all."
You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. "Thanks, Osc. I needed this."
"Anytime, sis," Oscar said warmly, giving you a quick hug. "Now, come on. Lando is probably drunk already and we haven't made it to his house yet."
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ynpiastri the rumors are true: lando norris keeps celebrating his miami win even tho it’s been a week
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username1 so iconic tbh
username2 EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT CARLOS SAINZ IN THE LAST PIC ??
↳ username1 i thought they hated each other 😭
danielricciardo 🙌
alexandrasaintmleux 👀 I see you
↳ ynpiastri and i don’t see you over her which means your boyfriend sucks for not bringing you
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landonorris IM V DRVNK OMG
↳ username3 i love him 😭😭😭😩
username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri the ultimate enemies to lovers lowkey
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You're not sure how it happened, but Carlos' arm laid casually in the back of your chair as you chatted with those around you. His fingers gently brushed your bare shoulder from time to time, his thigh pressed to yours under the table.
Maybe it was the couple glasses of champagne you both had, you're not sure. But you definitely didn't want to move from your spot.
No one dared to say anything about it, but your friends had teasing grins at the sight. You knew you'll have to deal with them later, but you decided to ignore it for the night.
"Alright, I think I'm calling it a night," Oscar said as he got up from his chair, Lando immediately booed, "Are you coming, YN?"
You looked at him with raised eyebrows, you definitely didn't want to leave yet, feeling too comfortable in Carlos' presence. In addition to that, you haven't had a chance to get him alone, and that was enough to not want the night to end.
After a minute of silence from you, Carlos spoke up, "I can give her a ride home if she doesn't want to leave yet," he offered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.
"Oh, a private chauffeur service now, Carlos? How fancy," Max teased from across the table, making the entire group laugh.
Oscar hesitated, glancing between you and Carlos, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you okay with that, YN?"
"Yeah, I'm okay with it," you met Oscar's eyes and nodded, "Or I can just crash here, Lando is too drunk to notice anyway, don't want to cause much trouble."
"It's really no trouble," he insisted, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "I'll make sure you get home safely."
Oscar seemed to relax a bit, though you could tell he was still a little uneasy. "Alright then. Just... be careful, okay?"
"Don't worry, Osc," you replied, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow."
As Oscar left, the group continued to tease and laugh. You always enjoyed when the drivers were in a casual setting like this one, where they could forget about competition and teams and just hang out and have fun.
You stayed glued to Carlos the entire time, getting even closer as the night went on, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy, so you laid your head on his shoulder.
"You're falling asleep on me, hermosa," Carlos whispered to you, not moving your head from its place.
"I'm not," you protested, but at the same time you did a yawn escaped your mouth, which made Carlos laugh.
"Come on let's get you home," Carlos offered you his hand.
You took Carlos' hand, not even thinking twice about it. As you both stood to leave, your friends couldn't resist one last round of teasing.
"No funny business, Carlos," Charles called out, grinning widely. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "We have Oscar on speed dial."
"Yeah, don't make me come after you, that's also my sister," Lando added, too drunk to even make sense.
You laughed, waving goodbye to everyone as you and Carlos made your way out. The cool night air was refreshing as you walked to his car, your hand still in his.
The drive to Oscar's place was quiet but comfortable. Carlos kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close to you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the streetlights played over his features.
At one point, Carlos glanced over and caught you staring. "You're staring," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
You felt your cheeks heat up but didn't look away. "Maybe I am," you replied, a teasing edge in your voice. "You have a problem with that?"
"Not at all, Piastri. Not at all."
When you arrived at Oscar's place, Carlos parked the car but you made no move to get out. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.
"Are you ready to stop pretending we hate each other?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice low and earnest. "Because I am."
His words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. The intensity in his gaze made it clear he wasn't playing around or teasing you. He was being real and serious.
You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, I am."
Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger. The world outside the car ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way his kiss made you feel.
Carlos' other hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pressed you closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if letting go meant losing this moment forever.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Carlos' eyes searched yours, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"But… I'm not ready to stop calling you a little bitch, though."
you're obsessed with your boyfriend's thighs and you refuse to keep that fact to yourself
note: guys i couldn't stop thinking about oscthighs so i had to make this. i felt possessed tbh. hope you like it~
warnings : swearing, implied/referenced sex, one kms joke
fc: ruby lyn
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･
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yourusername: i can’t tell you a single thing about this book bc oscar was wearing shorts today 💔
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user: you’re so real for this
user: OSCTHIGHS OSCTHIGHS OSCTHIGHS
hattiepiastri: yn i love you but please keep your thirsting over my brother in private
⤷yourusername: hattie love, i think you’ll just have to block me
user: god that picture of oscar i’m so sick
oscarpiastri:❤️❤️
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yourusername: what i’m actually doing on my phone all day
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oscarpiastri: Why did you add blush to my cheeks?
⤷yourusername: to make you cuter
⤷user: is his natural aegyo not enough for you?
⤷yourusername: it’s so refreshing
user: does this girl post about anything other than her bfs legs
⤷yourusername: nope.
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oscarpiastri: Past few weeks
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user: cue yn meltdown in 3, 2, 1…
⤷user: i can hear her coming like the jaws theme song
yourusername: are you joking right now
yourusername: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI
yourusername: THIS IS TARGETED HARRASSMENT
yourusername: im going to explode
yourusername: WTFFFFFFF
yourusername: posting these on ig instead of sending them to me directly you EVIL EVIL MAN
⤷oscarpiastri: 😁❤️
user: i know his ass did this on purpose
⤷user: like he knew exactly what would happen posting these pictures
pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)
warning: this will include mentions of physical abuse (visible bruising & alluding to physical abuse about to happen), verbal & mental abuse, abusive relationships, and mild discussion of child abuse, accidental cut (cooking accident) & blood
word count: 1.4k
summary: you had always been someone loud and confident. the kind of person who is so magnetic that it's hard not to be drawn into you. it's hard not to love you, to not want to be loved by you. that was the first thing that any of the hockey boys noticed when garrett graham introduced them to his "annoying" twin sister. you fell into step with them easily, just as you fell into step at briar easily. the popular graham sister with a heartstopping smile and magnetic personality. you met your boyfriend quickly into your freshman year, a st.a's hockey player who slid into your dm's after the first game of the season. it's been about two years now, and everyone thinks you are perfectly in love. you lead them to believe, truly. what you don't show is what lies underneath, a secret begging to be exposed; a girl screaming for help.
author note: it's kinda short, but thats bc i thought this part & the next part needed their own separate parts and individual focus instead of it being combined!! i'll be working on the next part shortly!
time blurs as you sit there, his arms wrapped tightly around you while you sob into his chest. the sobs come out hard, and wrack through your entire body with a force that you don't recognize. it feels unfamiliar to you, the strength that the sobs seem to hold. a strength that you didn't know your body held. even still, the sobs come and they don't stop. as if the dam had been broken and all the emotion you were holding in came flooding out. tears that you didn't know you had now dampening his shirt as he holds you close, rubbing small circles into your back. every now and again gentle i'm sorry's would fall from your lips, the sound mixed in with the sobs that escaped you. each time, the pressure from his had got heavier on your back, a grounding that you didn't know you needed.
you body slowly comes to a shuddering stop. the sobs tapering off as you find that you have no more tears to cry. you go limp against his body, which causes him to only tighten his hold on your body. his arms tightening as they press you closer to his chest, his hands being the only thing that were holding you up. if it weren't for your body pressed to his chest, you likely would have collapsed completely from the exhaustion.
a silence falls between you then. the kind of silence that settles deep into the crevices between your bones. it consumes you completely, replacing all sound with a roaring in your ears. a roaring that only seems to get louder with each moment that passes you by. the roaring is consuming, and you wonder how good it might feel if it takes you over completely. if it swallowed you whole, taking you away from this world.
then he is moving, pulling away from you just far enough so that he can see your face. a hand, soft and delicate reaches up to move a piece of hair that stuck to your face. his eyes search yours then, soft and tender as if he was trying to find something there. "let's get you in the shower," he says gently then, eyes looking up and down as he speaks, "because you are still wearing last nights clothes."
your eyebrows crease together then as you pull away even closer and look down at your clothes. then, completely unprompted and very inappropriately, you begin laughing. laughing so hard that you stomach begins to hurt as you take in the state of yourself. "i'm still wearing last nights clothes," you say, the laugh breaking up the sentence as you say it out loud.
concern and confusion overtake him, as he looks at you under furrowed brows. there is a stillness in his body as if he isn't entirely what to do in this moment, and you don't blame him. you also wouldn't know how to respond if someone went from sobbing in your arms to laughing like a maniac. yet, you can't seem to help the way that the laughter bubbles out of you. as if your emotions had gained a mind of their own, and you no longer had control over them.
"and my makeup is still on," you add, the laughter still bubbling through you as you speak, "i'm a fucking mess," you add then. your laughter then seems to twist then, tears beginning to roll down your face as the laughter starts to mix with a collection of sobs, "i'm a mess," you say again, but there is a sadness melting into your tone as you speak it out loud.
the emotion on his face shifts then, and the crease in his eyebrow deepens as he watches you speak. his hand reaches up then, delicately pressing a thumb against your cheek to wipe a stray tear away, "come on," he says softly, "the shower will help."
he helps you to the bathroom, but you push him out the door ensuring him that you can shower on your own. logan is hesitant to leave you, but he was raised better than to ignore a woman's boundary. thus, he left you to the shower and went back out to the living room.
once in the shower, you find yourself instinctively turning the shower the hottest that it can go. the water stings your skin as you stand motionless under the stream. for a moment, you don't move to clean your body. you just stand there under the burning heat of the water, and let it soak in as if the very heat of it could cleanse your body of the harm that was done to it.
eventually, you move to wash yourself. the movements are slow and deliberate. you scrub aggressively at your skin, as if it would remove the feeling that had settled underneath. the heat still seeps into you, enough to the point that you had grown completely numb to it.
when you step out of the shower, your skin is beet red and your damp hair sticks to the back of your neck. slowly, you find a pair of leggings and a comfortable sweater to pull onto your body then. once clothed, you sink onto your bed and stare into the distance for a moment, the exhaustion finally catching up to you. your hands grip loosely at the edge of your bed, and your eyes fix heavily on the wall in front of you.
you stare blankly, silence seeping in, until his voice comes from the other side of the door when he says your name and snaps you out of it. you let out a soft quiet sound in return, giving him permission to open the door then.
your bedroom door opens, and he finds himself leaning against the frame as he takes you in. his hands are crossed in front of his chest, and when you look past him you can see that the living room doesn't look at wrecked as it had before. "how are you feeling?," he asks, his tone soft and gentle as he speaks.
there is a fuzzy feeling that was taking over your mind, causing your response to come out slower than you had intended, "fine."
the word causes his eyebrows to furrow a bit, and a cloud to form behind his eyes. there is a beat of silence that falls between you before he says soft yet stern, "we have to call garrett."
clarity snaps into you then, and your face gains a mask of momentary anger, "what? no," you say almost automatically, "he can't see me like this." there is an irritation that is laced in your tone, because you had told him that he couldn't tell garrett. "it would crush him to see me like this, he can't."
logan sighs then, taking a step into the room and running a hand through his hair. "we have to," he says again, "because you can't stay here, and i can't bring you back to the house like this without any explanation."
"why the fuck can't i stay here?," you asks, the words coming out with an annoyed snap.
his eyebrows are knitted together, and his eyes bore into yours as he explains, "because he will come back," another step closer, "and i can't stay here all day to protect you, even if i want to." there is a tug on heart when he says it. "you will be safer at the house."
you ignore the tug on your heart and the warmth in the pit of your stomach, "i can't stay at the hockey house until the day i die, john."
his eyes roll in response, "it's just until we can all figure it out," he explains plainly, "which we will do later, but first we have to call garrett." then there is a momentary pause before his voice goes lower, "because he is your brother and he loves you, and he is my best friend and i can't keep this from him." the first explanation didn't convince you, but this one did. especially given that you knew it would be unfair to ask him to lie to someone he loved so much.
"fine," you say softly, and a sigh escapes you, "can you..." your voice trails off, all the confident leaving you then. "can you--" and it's like you can't seem to get the words out. "i just don't know if i--" every time you try to ask or explain there is this lump that forms in your throat, and you can't swallow it down.
however, he seems to understand right away, and his face softens as he says, "i'll call him."
'Wish I wasn't such a sucker for a fuckin' fixer-upper'
~ Fixer Upper, Chandler Leighton
You have a knack for a lot of stuff.
You have a mean swing when wielding a tennis racket - a knack for predicting your opponent's moves before they've even thought to make them.
You're the one your friends hand the aux cord to in the car - you always have the perfect read of the mood and know just what songs would hit the best.
And you also have a knack for, astoundingly, always picking the worst guys to date.
There's always something. You know what kind of something I'm talking about. There's never a clean bill of adequacy for any of them. They all have to have a few nuts and bolts missing for you to zero in and be like 'Hmm...'
Your friends fucking HATE it! They've been trying to ween you off that nasty habit of finding these specific men cute and charming with the exception of that one - or sometimes several - trait that just grinds your gears. But you're a creature of blind faith - you tend to anticipate the best of just about everyone and they NEVER deliver.
"You'd think with our curriculum you'd be sick of projects by now but noooo! Here we are with experiment #248!" Your best friend has the tendency to say this exact line each time - albeit with a different subject number for your new and certainly not improved fixer upper.
"He's just a little too close with his mom. Probably that homesickness from being away at college and all. Nothing he can't work on." You always have a justification - or maybe a shovel because you always manage to dig the hole a little deeper under your feet when trying to make sense of your nonsensical taste in men.
"What are you, a manchanic? Pull it together!"
Well, you might not be a manchanic but right now you're in desperate need of a mechanic because your car won't start. Every time you turn the key in the ignition, your engine makes this noise you can only describe as sounds of sorrow - sounds you're about to start echoing back at it because the storm the forecast predicted is closing in.
You're fresh out of tennis practice, still in your gear that is not Armageddon weather friendly with a phone that just fucking died. Not that it would've been of any use - not many people you can call. Most of your friends are in their morning lectures right now. You yourself have one you need to get to in about twenty minutes but your tin-can on four wheels clearly thinks otherwise. The only person you could call - and I mean in theory - is subject #249. And I say in theory because that motherfucker is definitely not gonna pick up. Hell, he might even hang up on you if he even hears the phone. It's 10AM but he's a night owl - sleeping till dusk, gaming till dawn kinda fella - not a chance in hell he's coming through for you. Oh and it's not like yall are serious or anything - as per his own proclamation - so why would he do such a thing as come through for you, right? RIGHT??
A spear of white slashes the dark grey sky. Followed by a clap of lightning that opens the floodgates to a downpour that your polo shirt and shorts don't stand a chance against.
In a moment of helpless frustration you kick the tire a couple times - causing more damage to your foot than the rubber - and decide that you're definitely not making it to that lecture or out of this parking lot anytime soon.
But then....divine intervention!
The clouds have parted and heaven's light shines down upon thee - oh no, nevermind, it's just a pair of headlights.
You wipe raindrops from your lashes to be able to make out the vehicle approaching you - an oldish looking but well maintained truck comes to a stop next to you and for a moment you do consider the possibility of it being a kidnapper or something.
But both your shoes are flooded and your socks are soaked so, really, you ARE the threat with the amount of irritation condensed into you right now.
A guy you vaguely recognize gets out - similarly not dressed for the weather in his t-shirt and jeans. But hey, at least he has a working vehicle!!!
"Showering on a budget?!" He literally has to shout so you can make out what he's saying over the hellish downpour.
"Wish I had that level of preparedness - would've brought shampoo. Or...charged my phone at least." Had anyone else tried to make light of the situation you're in right now, you would've probably laid them out with a racket to the dome. But this guy says it with such ease, no notes of anything that irks or bugs you. No condescension or mockery. And to add the fact that he's choosing to stand out here in this weather to talk to you.
"Something wrong with your car, I'm assuming." He says, looking past you at the traitorous shitcan that looks perfectly normal on the outside - oh how looks can be deceiving.
You sure as hell hope his looks aren't deceiving cause HAWT DAMN. You have thoughts. No notes. No prayers. Just thoughts. Some potentially impolite observations you've made about him in the passed minute. Like how freakishly good he looked when he stepped out and how much good-er he looks now with his hair soaked. Some would say it's a shame to see hair so luscious be tamped down like this and you'd half agree but...you see a different kind of appeal.
And, for some weird reason, you seem to recognize him more with wet hair.
"That's how it started, yeah, and then the apocalypse happened." You reply, motioning to the now steady rain that thankfully no longer hurts on impact like hale.
He hums, nodding thoughtfully. "Right. Am I also right to assume that you'd rather not stay in this parking lot?"
You raise your eyebrows, eyes widening slightly for the theatrics of it all, "Are you clairvoyant?"
"Just one of my many talents. Another one of which is owning a functioning vehicle that can take you anywhere you desire." He turns to gesture to his truck with a flourish.
And you're in no position to say no. Not that you want to. Not that you could. The smile does indeed possess extraordinary abilities that make this guy trouble. Trouble in a way that you go thoughtless when looking at it.
Within fifteen minutes, he's pulling into the nearest parking spot to the entrance of your lecture hall so you don't get quadruple soaked on your way in.
"You're a lifesaver, I can't thank you enough. I wish the best car luck upon you. May your truck never leave you in a ditch the way mine did." You sing him his praise as you unbuckle, unwillingly so, in preparation to get out and make it to the lecture you're only a little late for. What a shame it is to be leaving his truck indeed - the drive over might have been the most fun fifteen minutes you've had this past month.
He's just so...fun, lively. He met you halfway on everything: sarcasm, dark humor, irony. Line for line - he didn't miss a beat.
And you're already missing the interactions you had and the ones you could have if you were to ever see him again.
"I am eternally grateful for the wishes you've cast upon me but this truck doesn't have much of a choice but to work. I'm a mechanic - it doesn't get a rest day just cause it's smoking under the hood. I up and fix it." He says with a humble smile and a humorous straightening of his back to accentuate his remarkability - and you're fucking swooning.
An oddity because you're yet to pinpoint a single thing wrong with this man.
"Impressive. You didn't exaggerate those many talents you mentioned. Jack of all trades, huh." You smirk - kinda hard to play coy when there's a dark spot in the shape of you on the seat and backrest. There's a similar one on his too. It looks like you leave your shadow behind when you step out. "My gratitude knows no bounds. Have a good one!"
Those parting words feel empty for some reason you can't place until twenty minutes later when you're sitting in class in all your drowned-rat glory and realize you had no name to tack onto the end there.
You never asked him his fucking name. Way to fucking go about potentially seeing him again, babe.
By the time your professor's voice says the most important phrase of the lecture: 'That will be all for today' - there's ironically not a cloud in sight on the picture-perfect blue above you.
After an hour and a half of a lecture you didn't hear a single syllable from, you return to the scene of the crime your car committed against you to clean it of your belongings with the intention of calling a tow. Your brain is already doing math gymnastics trying to calculate the cost of the repairs - not that you even know what needs to be repaired - and figure out how much it'll set you back financially.
In the whirlwind of mental equations, the he last thing you expected to find was two legs sticking out from under your car.
"Um, hi? Who are you and why are you violating my car?" You ask as you make a hesitant approach, nudging the person's right foot with your own.
And then the hottest jumpscare of your life happens when out rolls HE.
He can't even respond because he's cracking up over your very interesting phrasing of the question and man does he look cute.
"Oh hey guy-from-earlier!" You blurt out on autopilot, all too aware of the fact that you don't know his name.
"John Logan - since you clearly don't plan on asking." He smirks, nodding to you in greeting in tandem with tipping an imaginary hat. His hands are stained as a result of the car surgery he's performing so he doesn't offer a handshake. "But everyone calls me Logan."
The name rings a bell - no, it actually makes a different sound. It sounds like skate scraping ice.
Oh shit that's where I know him from!
"Wait, you're a Hawk, ain't ya?!" You grin triumphantly as if you finally found a puzzle piece that fits. In this case the last piece but hey, E for Effort. Your brain was firing on all cylinders right there (unlike your car *ahem*)
"Sure am. You into hockey?" Logan asks as he stands up, wiping his hands on a hand towel dangling from one of his belt loops.
We're all familiar with that saying 'don't hate the player, hate the game', right? Well you're in a 'forget the game, fuck the player' kinda situation right now. You've got as much interest in hockey as a fish would have in cycling but that's neither here nor there because right now it's a strong contender for you favorite sport of all time.
But still, you're no liar.
"Not really, sorry. My friend is, though. I go to watch games with her all the time." You hurry to add that last part which is in fact true. Thea always manages to convince you to tag along.
Logan doesn't wanna run the risk of sounding creepy by saying it but he has indeed noticed you. He's vague acquaintances with Thea and he's duly noted the friend she attends Hawks games with.
Spotting you earlier was the luckiest fucking coincidence to him.
"Well, we're grateful for any support. Even by proxy." He winks. He fucking winks. It has the same danger level as pulling the trigger on a gun. Does this man know how fine he is? There's no way he doesn't, right?
He turns to point to your car, giving the hood a light pat. "Anyway, that should tie you over but maybe consider getting yourself a more reliable vehicle, yeah? This fixer upper will leave you stranded again sooner or later and trust me, you do not want to take that risk."
His words stun you.
They hit a mark he wasn't even aiming for when he said them. Hell, he doesn't know the mark even exists.
They're a softer, more gently phrased variation of lectures you've endured before. Time and time again, your friends have tried to bring a rude awakening upon you to snap you out of your Bob The Builder roleplay. Time and time again their words went in one ear and out the other.
But there's something so viscerally real about the situation you found yourself in because of your fixer upper car and how closely it compares to where you end up because of your fixer upper guys.
Left high and dry. Or rather stranded and rain soaked, but you get the idea.
Maybe such a real and tangible depiction of what these relationships - if you can even call em that - are doing to you is exactly what you needed to get your shit together.
"Yeah...um...yeah, I'll definitely look into upgrading." You say after a pause you didn't even realize you created.
Logan doesn't seem to mind. "As payment I only accept first and last names."
Oh, he's smooth
"Is that negotiable? Like maybe I can pay first name now and last name later on with a cup of coffee to tie me over in between?"
But so are you *wink*
And Logan knows when he's out-smoothed. He finds no shame in admitting it. In fact, he finds it quite attractive. "Consider it done."
"Where do I sign?" You tease only to have this goofball pull out an actual notepad and pen from his back pocket like he's Mary fucking Poppins with magic jeans instead of a bag.
"Signatures only in digit form, please." He adds as he hands you the pad and pen - the brief brush of your hands bringing a heatwave upon you both.
You write down your phone number, your first name right below it.
For once, a guy has caught your eye by being the fixer and not the fixer upper. And for once, you're actually excited to tell your friends about a guy and also bring forth proof as to how great he is - your car revving to life on the first try.
Summary: You meet Logan at a bar after your brother's hockey team loses their game. Only after finding yourself falling for him do you find out that he is John Logan, a beast on the ice and your brother's rival.
Ahead: Angst (secret lovers), lying to your brother, minor smut (nothing too crazy), Logan being a sexy man (obvs)
You grew up in a major hockey family. All of your uncles, your dad, your brother and your cousins were die hard for the Bruins and never missed a game. While you wouldn’t consider yourself a fanatic like your family, you did enjoy your fair share of hockey. You loved the unpredictability of the game, the attitudes and how no one was afraid of getting messy.
Your brother was accepted to Boston University the year before you were. While you got into BU on academic merit, he got in for hockey. A full ride came with his acceptance along with a spot of the hockey team. Everyone was ecstatic, you included. You loved your brother, even if he did have an inflated ego.
It was the biggest game for Boston of the season other than playoffs. Boston was playing their biggest rivals, Briar. Briar was known for the ferocious game play on the ice. Their line up was nothing to sniff at and everyone of the Boston team knew that.
Your brother was shitting bricks for weeks leading up to the game. He bit his nails to the quick, and was talking strategy every second he could. Most of all, he was smack talking all the players.
“Graham is a monster, but I’m more worried about Logan. He’s a snake.” Your brother explained, pacing in front of you during what was meant to be a study session. He was failing English literature and you were tasked by your parents to get his grade up. So far, it was a lost cause.
While you didn’t care to investigate the Briar team the way your brother did, you still showed up to his game with a proud smile and your red and white BU jersey on. You sat in the stands with your fellow BU students, cheering for the goals and cringing as you watched your brother get boarded twice by Briar’s number 22, some guy named Logan. You recalled your brother calling him a snake, but seeing him in action was a different story.
While you knew you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help but admire this allusive Logan as he skated. He was fast and aggressive, the type of player that knew your next move before you even did. You watched him like a hawk (ironic), not even noticing how badly your brother’s team was losing until it was over. Not only did Boston lose, they lost badly. You knew your brother would be sulking all night and while a part of you knew it was the right thing to go comfort him, a larger part of you itched to do the opposite.
The game was on Briar’s turf, allowing you explore the city that was so close to Boston yet worlds away. You texted your brother, letting him know would catch up with him later and decided to skip out on the bus home. You threw on a plain sweatshirt to cover your Boston jersey and join the throngs of Briar students that were celebrating.
It didn’t take long for you to follow the groups of students to a nearby pub called Malone’s. The music was loud and the drinks were flowing. You headed to the bar, watching the groups hanging out with a smile.
“Can I buy you a drink?” A voice rang out.
You turned towards the voice, your eyes connecting with sweet brown ones surrounded by dark lashes. He’s like a Greek god standing over you, his height could be seen as intimidating, but his award winning smile and the kind of chocolate colored locks that would put 90s Leonardo Dicaprio to shame. His large biceps poke out from under the Briar U hockey tee shirt he is wearing and you fight the want to take a bite out of them.
You match his dazzling smile, “Sure.”
You discuss all things hockey with the handsome stranger. He knows even more than you do, making you suspect that he is a Briar U hockey player. As you talk, you find yourself lost in his words. He is as naturally charming as he is pretty to look at. You’ve downed half your drink when a blonde guy pops up next to him, smacking shoulder.
“Logan! There you are!” The blonde laughs, obviously drunk.
You pause mid-sip. Logan. As in number 22? As in the guy your brother referred to as a snake and got wrecked by? Fuck.
“I’ve been here the whole time, Dean.” Logan matches his friend’s laughter, “You’re the one who has been hanging out in the bathroom with what’s her name.”
“Yeah,” Dean reminisces before crinkling his brow. “What is her name?”
Logan cackles at that as Dean walks away with a shrug, not at all bothered by his drunken confusion. Logan turns back to you, seeing you lost in thought and not nearly as joyful. Logan touches your knee, making you turn your head.
“You okay?” Logan asked, running his thumb over the fabric of jeans.
You purse your lips. Before looking at Logan again, you were contemplating how you were going to slip away and get back to Boston without him noticing. Now, looking at the Greek god in front of you, your brain has taken a full 180.
“I’m fine.” You lean forward, your flirtatious smile returns and you lean closer. “So, Logan, tell me about your win tonight.”
Logan grinned, finding your forwardness and hockey knowledge refreshing and endearing.
“Would love to.”
Logan slammed you into the bathroom door, your lips attached in a heated kiss that took your breath away. His stubble tickled the soft skin of your cheeks in a way that made you pull him closer by his sides. Logan scooped you up, placing you on the edge of the sink and stepped between your parted thighs. He pulled back just enough to press his lips against your throat, his teeth nipping at the thin skin between being soothed by his tongue.
“Logan,” You whimpered, wrapping your legs around him to pull him against you.
“Speak up, angel.” Logan grunted, tugging at the edge of your sweatshirt. “Want to hear you.”
You yanked the top over your head, leaving you in your lacy bra and Logan sucked in a breath. You tossed the top somewhere on the bathroom floor. “Touch me.”
Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He dived in like a man starved and by the end of your encounter you were both spent. Your sweaty skin stuck to one another, lips attached as everything slowed back down. Logan kissed the crown of your head, then your forehead and trailing back down to your lips. You were both smiling as your lips met.
“I have to get going before the last bus leaves,” You whispered, pecking his lips a final time before patting his back to signal that you were getting up.
Logan’s eyebrows creased, helping you grab your clothes from the floor, “Bus?”
“Yeah,” You breathed, unsure of how to bring up that you were not from Briar.
Suddenly, you didn’t need to explain yourself as Logan helped up your Boston jersey. He held the red and white shirt with a look of disgust.
“Boston?” He spat out, bewildered. “For a girl who knows a lot about hockey you’re rooting for a shitty team.”
You snatched the shirt out of his hand. “For your information, my brother is on the team and I go there too.”
Logan nodded, trying not to judge, taking advantage of your undressed state to eye you up and use the visual to force out any thoughts of Boston. “Who’s your brother?”
You told Logan his name as you yanked on your jeans and Logan let out a low whistle. “That guy hates me.”
“Yeah, I know.” You agreed, zipping up your heeled boots.
“And this was?” Logan looked for clarification, gesturing between the two of you.
You shrugged, “You’re hot. I think you’re a beast on the ice and charming.” You kissed his cheek, leaning forward to whisper next to his ear. “And now I know you’re a beast in other areas too.”
You pulled back grinning when you found a faint blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to not appear as flustered as he feels, “Glad I’m meeting your standards.”
“Absolutely.” You threw your bag over your shoulder. “See you, Logan.”
Before you could open the door, Logan’s hand shot out, holding your arm. You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’ll drive you home.” Logan declared, it was not a question or request.
You snorted. “It’s a 45 minute drive.”
“Don’t care. You’re not taking a bus.” He snatched his own clothes off the floor, pulling them on quickly and pulling his keys out of his pocket. He dangled them in front of you. “Let’s go, angel.”
That night started what you could only describe as a love affair between you and John Logan. Logan would drive the full 45 minutes to your dorm multiple times a week, sometimes even at ungodly hours just to have to leave early in the morning to make morning practice or classes.
At first, each meet up revolved around sex. The two of you went at it on any stable surface in your dorm. Each time, you would end the encounter with a longing stare, like you both had something more to say but didn’t know where to start.
Within a month of these meet ups, the encounters changed. Logan would come over and the two of you would order food and just hang out. You’d fall asleep in his arms with a show playing on your laptop, completely content to just be together.
Your relationship went from an ongoing hook up to one full of real feelings. He told you about his family, his goals, his passions. You shared your life with him too, but you had to keep things quiet. He understood this, knowing your brother would flip if he found out.
He introduced you to his friends, not finding any reason to keep you a secret from his friends. You fell in easily with his friend group, your hockey knowledge winning over the guys and your natural charm winning over the girls. You were wonderful and Logan felt at peace with you.
It was a Sunday morning when shit hit the fan. Logan was wrapped around in your bed, his warmth surrounding you with a sheet draped over your naked bodies. Logan had arrived yesterday evening after an early practice, taking you out to a restaurant that he had saved up for. Your evening together was perfect and as Sunday rolled in, neither of you had any desire to move.
You ran a hand through his thick hair, scraping your nails against his scalp in a way that made him keen like a cat. You smiled, pecking his cheek.
“I don’t want to go back to Briar.” Logan admitted. “Not without you.”
You scoffed, “That might be hard to do when I go to school 45 minutes away.”
“You could transfer.” Logan suggested, looking at you in that teasing way with a hint of seriousness behind his eyes.
You sunk down in the mattress, Logan moved to loom over you. “I wish. I’d have to explain that to my brother.”
Logan paused. “What if… we told him?”
You blinked up at Logan. “What?”
“I mean, we’re in a real relationship. I want this to last and I think your brother knowing we’re together is a part of that. I mean, do you think we’re serious, too?” Logan explained, trying not to sound too pathetic.
You ran your hands over his broad shoulder, biting your lip. “Of course this is serious, Logan.”
Logan breathed out a sigh of relief.
You continued, “But we need to introduce him to us slowly. I don’t want him to hate you any more than he already does from hockey.”
Logan nodded, understanding where you were coming from. “Slowly. I can do slowly.”
You smirked, pulling him towards you, “Can you?”
Logan returned your smirk, “Absolutely.”
Logan decided to show you how slow and careful he could be in a completely unrelated way. Without any clothes in the way, you soon found yourself consumed by Logan. Your hands were pinned down next to your head and he slowly thrusted into you, his lips running over your bare skin while letting out desperate noises.
“L-Logan,” You moaned, tugging on his hair and pulling him closer.
Logan groaned into your ear, letting himself take his time with you. You were so consumed with one another, you didn’t even notice your door being unlocked or creaking open until it was too late.
“Morning, sis! I brought-” Your brother’s voice rang out, cheery as he held up a paper bag containing breakfast burritos.
The next few moments was a blur of chaos. The paper bag hit the ground with a thud, you shrieked, Logan let out a noise of surprise and your brother yelled out, “what the fuck.”
You pulled the sheet against your chest as Logan shielded you with his large frame. Your brother’s eyes were wide in shock, then narrowed in disgust.
“Logan?” Your brother seethed. “You’re fucking John Logan? The guy I’ve been calling a snake all year?” His voice was raising, your heart was pounding.
“We-I-” You couldn’t even speak. All of your words were jumbled in your mind and none of them were escaping correctly.
Logan spoke up. “We’re in a relationship. She’s my girlfriend.” He looked at your brother in a serious manner, standing from the bed and grabbing his pants nearby.
Your brother rolled his eyes, looking away from the scene. “How did this even happen? How did-” He froze, connecting the dots. “The game. You stayed back, didn’t you?”
You nodded slowly, gulping. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you in disdain. “I didn’t mean for this to happen like this. I wanted-”
“She wanted to tell you slowly. She cares about what you think, dude.” Logan spoke for you again, reaching down to squeeze your hand supportively.
Your brother’s chest rose and fell, turning back to the two of you. He looked at your inner locked finger and his shoulders slumped.
“Is this for real?” He asked, looking for a clear answer.
You both nodded, Logan’s loving gaze leaving you to fix your brother with a firm look. “Completely serious.”
Your brother paced, “If you’re serious… I-” He looked back at you, seeing the tears pricking your eyes. “I want you to be happy, sis.”
You smiled gently, “I am.”
Your brother pursed his lips, “Then I can get behind this,” He pointed a finger at Logan. “But that doesn’t make you less of a snake on the ice.”
Logan held up a hand in surrender. “And I won’t stop boarding you every chance I get.”
Your brother cracked a smile. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to drop a request in my ask box!
one bed enemies to lovers trope with john logan x reader 👀🙈
coming right up, m'lady
Nothing good happens after 2 AM
pairing: john logan x reader
words: 3.1k
summary: you and logan couldn't stand each other on a good day, got along for the sake of your friends. So, sharing a bed with him should've been a piece of cake, right ?
warnings: language, one single mention of a boner, it's all fluff baby
a/n: it started as a blurb i swear
Briar U students knew how to party. There was always something to keep everybody occupied. Great alcohol, decent food, groups of people on the dance floor, some singing their souls out, students in corners and couches discussing everything from the latest episode of Love Island to Astrophysics. Everybody was happy.
So happy that often times after a party ends, some people don't leave. Every inch of the house would be covered in either something sticky and moist that needed no further pondering or a whole ass person who was already fast asleep. Couch, porch, hallways, living room, bedroom, everywhere. It was a miracle if someone got to sleep in the bed.
Logan predicted that this would be the case, halfway through the party. People already started to slump and lean on walls; it was a matter of time before his own room was auctioned off to some random people he had never met in his life. He ran up to his room, locked it, put the key safely in the pocket of his denims and walked back down to the party.
"What are you so happy about?" you chided. You were at the bottom of the staircase, two solo cups with something strong, one in each hand.
Logan pressed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Offering me a drink? What's the occasion?" He gasped, hand to chest. "Did someone die?"
You fixed him with a flat look. "In your dreams, hockey boy." You shoved the cup at him hard enough that some of it sloshed over the rim. He accepted it and leaned against the wall as he took a sip.
"Tucker asked me to give it to you. I'm just the messenger. Don't read into it."
"Sure," he took another sip, eyebrows furrowed in serious thought. "You know, you could've just asked Tucker to fuck off and bring it himself?"
"I could've," you agreed. "But then I wouldn't have gotten to watch you be wrong about something, and that's basically my, like, favourite hobby."
He tilted his head. "Funny. I thought your favourite hobby was pretending you don't stare at me at games."
You laughed incredulously. "You are so full of yourself."
"Right." He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you, completely uninvited, because that was just what Logan did. Took up space like he was entitled to it. And as much as you pretended to be annoyed, you really, really weren't.
"And it has nothing to do with the fact that I look incredible in gear."
You turned to look at him slowly. "You are genuinely insufferable, you know that?"
Slowly, the crowd trickled down, shoulders slumped, and eyes started to droop. By 2 am, most people were passed out from exhaustion, alcohol, or both.
Logan finally headed up to his room, feeling accomplished that he got to have it all for himself. He changed out of his denims and into some comfortable sweatpants. His shirt was almost fully off when his door opened.
"Hey, mind if I— Oh shit." You slapped a hand over your eyes.
"What the fuck," Logan said, less a question and more a general statement of grievance at the universe. He yanked his henley down over his head and turned around. "Why are you in my room?"
"Garrett said I could crash here." You lowered your hand cautiously, confirming the situation was PG again.
"Crash here." He stared at you. "In my room."
"In your room," you confirmed, like it wasn't your ideal choice of a sleepover either.
"Garrett." He said the name the way someone might say black mould or tax audit. "I'm going to kill him."
"Incredibly valid," you said. "But maybe after? Because I genuinely have nowhere else to go."
He crossed his arms. The henley was dark green and soft-looking and you were absolutely not noticing that. "Garrett's room."
"Hannah's there."
"Right. Dean's?"
"Allie's in there, and I am not mentally strong enough to know what's going on behind that door." He just sighed.
"What about Tucker?"
You gave him a look. "There are five people in that room. I counted. Someone's sleeping in the bathtub, Logan, I am not going in there."
He considered his options, staring at the ceiling.
"And before you ask, both couches are occupied." You leaned against the doorframe and hated that you were about to do this. "Dude, I will sleep on the floor. I'm not even asking for the bed. Just— floor space. And a tiny little pillow."
Logan gave you a once-over as he considered.
You were still in your party clothes— some soft-looking sweater that had ridden up on one side where it'd gotten caught on your hip, dark jeans that were probably uncomfortable as hell at this point. Your hair was a mess, with strands falling around your face. You had that specific kind of tired that came from too much socialising and not enough sleep, your eyes a little glazed, your shoulders curved inward like you were trying to make yourself smaller.
You looked exhausted, vulnerable in a way he had never seen you before. You dragged your sweater down by the hem, suddenly self-conscious.
Something in his chest did something he didn't like.
"Do you have anything to change into?" he caught you off guard. Wow, okay. He did not have to do that. His back was already turned to you as he started rummaging through his closet.
"Oh? Um, no, no, I don't."
After about a minute, he threw a t-shirt and some pants in your direction. "Here."
You caught with the grace of a drunk person at 2 AM, trying to prove they had hand-eye coordination. Immediately after you caught it, he turned around, facing the wall. You stood there for a moment holding his clothes.
They smelled like him. Something clean and warm and distinctly so Logan that made the whole thing feel somehow you'd never felt before. You tugged your sweater over her head and stepped out of your jeans, suddenly very aware that he was maybe five feet away and actively not looking, which somehow made it feel more intimate than if he had been.
"Done," you said, after a couple of minutes, and your voice came out quieter than you meant.
Logan turned around slowly, like he was giving you time to object or change your mind. His eyes did this thing where they swept over you. He took in the sight in front of him. You, in what he'd never admit was his favourite t-shirt that he owned, standing in front of him, looking up at him, all tired and soft like you belonged there, in his room, in his clothes.
His jaw tightened.
"You're not sleeping on the floor," he said, and it came out rougher than he meant because he was already annoyed at himself for caring. He pulled back the covers on the side closer to the wall and nodded at it with all the warmth of a government official. "Take the bed."
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"Also, the bed." He said it flatly, daring you to make it weird. "It's a queen. We're adults. Stay on your side, and we'll both survive the night."
"Yes, sir," you said, with as much dignity as someone could muster while wearing someone else's sweatpants. He looked at you as if he were studying you, which wasn't doing you any favours.
You wanted to argue. You really did. But the bed looked soft and inviting, and you were so tired, and his clothes were warm, and some part of you, the part you that you would vehemently deny existed if anyone asked, didn't actually hate the idea of him being there.
"I know I'm in your bed and all, but if you snore, I am smothering you with a pillow."
"Noted." He was already pulling back his side of the covers. "If you steal the blanket I'm throwing you out."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
You got in without looking at him. He got in without looking at you. There was an unspoken agreement. We say nothing, do nothing, and we fall asleep.
You both stared at the ceiling. For a long time. The only sounds either of you could hear were the soft hum of the AC, leaves rustling and crickets from outside, and each other's breathing, which oddly put you at ease.
He knew you were awake. You knew he was awake. And it was getting increasingly hard to just lie there doing nothing next to a fully conscious person in the vicinity of your personal space. You decided to break the silence. Might as well.
"So, uh, how have you been?" You immediately winced. Why was that the ice-breaker you decided to go with, Jesus Christ.
"You know we don't have to make small talk. We can just sleep like, you know, regular people."
"I know, it's just— I am not used to extended periods of silence, and it is way too quiet in here, and if we don't keep talking, I think we will hear some things from Dean's room that we can never unhear for the rest of what will be our tragically short lives. So, what I'm getting at with way too many words than necessary is please keep talking to me."
He looked at you for what felt like forever before bursting into laughter.
"You know," Logan said eventually, still looking at the ceiling, "most people would've just said they were scared of hearing Dean."
"Dude, I am scared of hearing Dean."
"Fair."
You smiled despite yourself. The silence settled again, but it wasn't awkward like before. Logan volunteered this time.
"You looked like you were having fun tonight."
You turned your head slightly toward him, smirking at what he was implying. "Is that your way of asking if I was talking to anybody?"
"No," he scoffed, which came out less nonchalant and more defensive.
"Oh, it absolutely is."
"It's not."
"You are so obsessed with me," you teased, to which he just stared at you, deadpan. He knew you couldn't see it in the dark, but you could feel his eyes on you, and that made all the difference.
"No, you're right. I am deeply obsessed with you," he replied, voice devoid of any emotion.
You grinned into the darkness and hugged your pillow tighter. Why this revelation made you feel all warm and sappy, you were in no hurry to find out. You decided to keep pressing his buttons because it was surprisingly easy and fun to get on his nerves.
"Wow, you're terrible at this."
"At what?"
"Small talk, subtlety, all of it, really."
He snorted at that. "Good thing I wasn't trying."
That sent an unexpected flutter through your stomach that you promptly ignored because you were not giving John Logan, self-proclaimed frenemy, the satisfaction of making you blush.
"So," you said carefully, "how was your game last week?"
"You were literally there?" he said in a tone that bordered on incredulous.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"You remember?"
"Of course, I do. You sit in the same section every single game."
Heat crawled up your neck faster than you could process. What did he mean he remembered?
"Wha— No, I don't!" you defended.
"Sure, you do."
"I don't."
"You absolutely do."
"You are making things up."
"You wore that ugly yellow beanie—"
Your jaw dropped. "It is not ugly. You take that back!"
"It looked like a highlighter."
"It was cute!"
"It was bright enough to guide ships through fog."
You shoved his shoulder, and Logan laughed. He actually laughed, and it wasn't the smug grin he usually wore. Not the annoying smirk that made you want to throw things at him. Not that knowing smile that made your skin crawl.
And suddenly you understood why people liked him so much. You noticed how he was effortlessly charming, how he cared very loudly, not thinking twice about the consequences or what others thought. You paid attention to the fact that he absolutely did not have to let you sleep in his bed, let alone entertain you or put up with your bullying talking.
Which was deeply unfortunate for you specifically, because now you couldn't stop smiling.
The conversation just drifted after that. There was no more arguing just for the sake of arguing, no more trying to best one another at whatever imaginary rivalry you had going. You just... talked. Classes, shitty professors, first relationships, last relationships, friends, family, home, everything, really.
Eventually, the room grew quieter. The words started to slow. At some point, you rolled onto your side. He did too. Eventually, your replies became single words. Then hums. Then nothing at all.
The last thing you remembered was hearing him say your name. It was way too soft and filled with... something you had no energy to unpack. He said it like he was making sure you were still awake. You weren't.
—
Morning arrived far too soon. Pale golden rays of sunlight crept in through the gaps in the curtains that swayed slightly from the AC. The light painted lazy strips across the room's hardwood floor, climbing over the dresser, the rumpled blankets, and eventually right across Logan's face. He frowned in his sleep and buried his face deeper into the pillow like that would somehow stop the sun from existing.
The first thing you noticed was warmth. The second thing you noticed was that the warmth was breathing. What the hell?
Your eyes flew open. Oh. Oh no.
Somehow, at some point during the night, every promise about staying on your respective sides of the bed had completely failed. One of Logan's arms was around your waist. Your face was buried against his chest. One of your legs was thrown over his. You were practically sprawled on top of him.
For a solid five seconds, your brain simply stopped functioning. Then all the memories came back. The party. The bed. The talking. The sleeping. The fact that you were currently cuddling Logan. Mortification hit you like a freight train.
This wasn't even the side of the bed you went to sleep in. You froze.
Unfortunately for you, Logan chose that exact moment to wake up.
"...Morning." His voice was rough with sleep, deeper than usual, and it travelled right through your body in a way that had you reeling. You considered launching yourself through the nearest wall.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Logan made the mistake of looking down. You looked up at him, and immediately looked away again. "Oh my God."
"Yeah," he replied, like he had accepted his fate.
"Oh my God."
"I know."
You carefully untangled yourself and scooted backwards at approximately the speed of light. The movement made Logan grimace. You frowned.
"You okay, dude?"
His expression somehow became even more uncomfortable. Then realisation hit. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. The silence that followed could've killed a Victorian child. Finally Logan dragged both hands down his face.
"Before you react," he said, staring firmly at the ceiling, "this is a perfectly normal, biological thing."
You immediately covered your face.
"Oh my God."
"It's literally just biology."
"I know it's biology."
You sat up, way too flustered to react like a normal person. He immediately sat up as well and grabbed your pillow, using it to protect what little dignity he had left. "Okay, then."
"I'm very aware, it's normal, i know."
"Good."
"Why are we having this conversation?"
"Yeah, I don't really know."
Another horrifying silence. You groaned. "I was basically sleeping on top of you, I'm sorry."
"It's alright, I'm sorry for... enjoying it too much?" he tried to manage, but let's be honest, that only made it worse.
"Nope."
"Yeah, that wasn't it."
"This is probably not helping."
"Definitely not helping."
You dropped your face into your hands.
"Fantastic."
"Fan... tastic."
It was silent for another lifetime before Logan decided that he had to protect his honour.
"In my defence, you were practically sleeping on top of me."
"Okay, in my defence, I don't remember doing that."
"You were using me as a weighted blanket," he argued. A laugh escaped before you could stop it.
The pillow shifted. Logan looked at you. You looked right back at him. And somehow the whole situation became so ridiculously awful that it wrapped right back around to funny.
You started laughing. Logan held out for maybe ten seconds before he cracked. "Wow, you're laughing at me right now?"
"No," you tried, but it came out as a high-pitched something that barely sounded like a word.
"Wh— you are!"
"I'm laughing at the situation."
"The situation is me living through the worst morning of my life."
"The situation is you getting a raging boner from basic human contact!"
"You and I have very different definitions of basic human contact."
That only made you laugh harder. Then the two of you were sitting there laughing like idiots over absolutely nothing.
A few minutes later, once the crisis had officially passed, you stood and gathered your things. Neither of you quite met the other's eyes.
"Well," you started.
"Well."
"We never speak of this."
"Oh, hell no."
"This goes to the grave."
"Absolutely. Scout's honour."
"You were not a Boy Scout."
"Not even close to the point, by the way."
You levelled him with a look before you continued. "If Garrett finds out, I move to another country."
"If Garrett finds out," Logan said darkly, "I'm killing him."
You nodded. "Call me if you need an alibi."
That pulled another laugh out of him, a sound that you were growing to enjoy more than you cared to admit. You glanced at him. He glanced at you. Something softened in his eyes that you were trying hard to convince yourself wasn't really there.
"So..." You shifted awkwardly. "Thanks."
"For what?"
You looked down at the oversized shirt hanging off your frame.
"The room, the clothes, the bed, everything really."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, don't— don't mention it."
The smile that appeared on your face felt impossible to stop. For the first time in a long time, neither of you had a sarcastic comeback ready, which was probably a much bigger problem than either of you realised.
Immediately after you left, he fell back against the mattress and scrubbed a hand over his face. His pillow and sheets still smelled like you, and it didn't bother him as much as he'd expected to.
He was staring at the ceiling in disbelief. Logan, who was aggressively a morning person, who loved waking up early for practice and catching the sunrise, had slept through four alarms. This was the best night's sleep he had had in ages. Fuck.
edit: so I tried experimenting and writing in third person, so I used she/her for reader, and then I realised that it was ass and changed it back to normal. So if you see a she/her anywhere pls pretend you didn’t 🧍♀️
pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)
warning: this will include mentions of physical abuse (visible bruising & alluding to physical abuse about to happen), verbal & mental abuse, abusive relationships, and mild discussion of child abuse, accidental cut (cooking accident) & blood
word count: 2.5k
summary: you had always been someone loud and confident. the kind of person who is so magnetic that it's hard not to be drawn into you. it's hard not to love you, to not want to be loved by you. that was the first thing that any of the hockey boys noticed when garrett graham introduced them to his "annoying" twin sister. you fell into step with them easily, just as you fell into step at briar easily. the popular graham sister with a heartstopping smile and magnetic personality. you met your boyfriend quickly into your freshman year, a st.a's hockey player who slid into your dm's after the first game of the season. it's been about two years now, and everyone thinks you are perfectly in love. you lead them to believe, truly. what you don't show is what lies underneath, a secret begging to be exposed; a girl screaming for help.
author note: THIS IS VERY SAD!!!! also, a lot of people have asked to be tagged & i tried my best to include everyone that asked!! if i missed you then pls pls pls lmk!! i def didn't do it intentionally!!
hannah sits comfortably on garrett's lap, his arm wrapped delicately around her waist. everyone around her is wrapped up in a conversation, but her eyes settle on you. hannah lifts her cup to her lips as she watches logan grab onto your hand and pulls you out of the room. it's easy for her to zone in on the way that his fingers lace through yours, and how comfortable he seems to have your hand in his own.
"question," hannah says then, turning to garrett.
his eyes shift up to her, and he simply says, "shoot."
hannah exhales softly then before asking, "does logan have a crush on your sister?" the question coming out bold and honest, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
it is dean who snickers before saying, "you caught on to that?" as if this was a well known thing amongst everyone but her. hannah watches the way that everyone seems to get the same knowing look on their face, and her eyes shift to garrett with a furrowed brow.
garrett lifts his bottle up to his lips to take a drink, before saying with ease, "he has liked her since the day they met." then, as if he could tell what question hung on her lips, he continues, "he was too chicken shit to ask her out, because of the whole 'her being my sister' thing, and then she met luke." he explains it as if it was simple. as if it was just how it was.
dean groans then, "and we have all had to deal with his pathetic yearning ever since." hannah takes the information in, eyes flickering back to the door that logan had dragged you out of before focusing back on garrett.
"does she know?" she asks innocently, taking another drink from her cup.
garrett sighs and his eyes roll ever so slightly as he states, "i think everyone knows." he is quick then to change the topic, turning to tuck and mentioning something that hannah doesn't quite catch. no, rather, her eyes flick back to the door then and she wonders what was going on just past it.
in the backyard, where hannah can't see, you stand face to face with logan as his confession lays thick and heavy between you. i would love you. a simple promise, that would make any girls heart leap out of their chest. however, it just makes yours beat heavy and thick against your chest wall. a blatant reminder of how alive you were, even though you wished you could disappear all together.
your eyes flicker from his face down to the way his hand wraps delicately around your arm. a touch that holds a gentle kindness that you are unfamiliar with. he holds you in a way that is tender and sweet. a tenderness that you never experienced at the hands of the man who loves you. it causes your breathe to hitch in your throat, and your heart to skip a beat.
then, without much warning, you pull your arm from his hand. untangle the fabric from his gentle touch and allow your hand to fall by your side. your eyes don't lift from his hand and how it floats in the air for a moment, as if it was still holding the ghost of you. when it drops to his side, your eyes flicker back up to his face. his eyes still hold that same intense promise that they had before, but yours become overwhelmed with sadness, "no," you say softly then, "you can't."
the air around you grows thick then, nearly suffocating you. his eyebrows furrow together then as he looks at you, hand helplessly held by his side. there is a confusion that over takes his eyes, but that is quickly replaced something that seems so close to hurt. his voice then goes quiet as he says, "do you seriously not know?"
a sigh escapes your lips then, eyes closing tight for a moment as you try to regulate your breathing. for that one question felt like a dagger wedged in between your ribs, directly pressing against your lungs. when your eyes open then, they seem wetter than before, tears being held at their brim, "of course i know," you say softly, "but you don't-" your word clips off then as you scrub a hand over your face, "you don't actually like me, logan." his face contorts as soon as the statement lands, "you like the idea of me," you continue, voice straining in your throat as you speak, "you don't even really know me."
there is a moment then where he goes to speak. where his mouth opens to protest, but your hand falls onto his arm as you say, "i have to go." your hand lingers then for a moment, and your face scrunches up ever so slightly as you add, "please don't tell garrett... he won't be able to handle it."
there are tears that prick at your eyes then, and you force them back as you turn away from him and walk away. as soon as he is far enough behind you, your hand raises up to wipe the tear away from your cheek.
as you walk through the kitchen, you know that your red, wet eyes catch the attention of your brother. you can see it on his face, but you don't stop to reassure, but rather just find your way out of the house.
you can't drive home, you had too much to drink, so you call a cab to meet you down the street. it's cold, but you couldn't be in that house any longer. you couldn't face him.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿
by the time that you got home, your phone was sat dead and heavy in your pocket. there is a moment in which you consider plugging it in. a moment where you acknowledge that you should reply back to everyone, but you don't have the energy. there was this bone deep exhaustion that had overtaken you, leaving you only with enough energy to lay in bed.
your body falls heavy against the bed, still in the clothes that you wore to the party. as you lay there, you pull your legs up to your chest and hug them tightly. the words "that's abuse" and "i would love you" swirl around your mind, mixed in with the look on his face as you walked away.
it only takes a few minutes before the sobs come wracking through your body. for the sorrow and overwhelm to consume you entirely. there was this weird mix of grief that swirled inside you. an anguish from watching the perfectly crafted image you had built come crashing down mixed with the forced revelation of the situation that you had found yourself in with luke. all of that combined with the pain you had caused logan. a hard truth slammed between you, crushing the image he had built of you for all these years.
because, you were right when you said that he didn't know you. a truth that you felt too heavy to bear. in truth, no one truly knew you. they knew the facade that you put up before them. it was only luke that saw you for who you were, he made sure that you knew that every day. that it was only him who could love you for the wretch that you were.
all of this was too much. the confession, the realization, the truth. it was too heavy to carry.
you didn't know what to do. didn't know how to carry the weight of everything, and the only answer that you could find seemed to be laying there letting the sobs wrack through your body until the tears had exhausted you enough, and the quiet roaring of the street outside played you asleep like a sickly sweet lullaby.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿
the sun peaking through the window was not what woke you up the next morning. rather, it was the harsh slam of a fist against the door. the rapid progression over and over, falling into beat with the feeling of the pain that was slamming against your forehead. a soft grumble escapes your lips as you push your body, which felt heavy as lead, up from the bed. there is a moment of hesitation, where you sit there waiting to see if the individual would simply go away.
however, when the rapid hard raps hit the door again, you knew they were here to stay.
a hand scrubs over your face as you rise to your feet and slowly make your way to door. your body feels groggy, and it causes your steps to move rather slowly across the floor. the person on the other side of the door was growing impatient, and it causes an irritation to form within you.
finally, your hand wraps around the door knob and you pull open the door with a sharp, "what."
the color drains from your face then as you come face to face with the angered glare of your boyfriend, "what the fuck," he growls, pushing past you in the door. there is a moment where you stand in the door, body unafraid to turn and face him. "you think you can just ignore me all night," he snaps then.
as you turn to face him, you can feel yourself shrinking under his gaze. he was angry. perhaps angrier then you had ever seen him. there was a rage that boiled deep within him. a rage that you felt so familiar with, but this felt different. as if it boiled a little hotter than it ever had before.
"is there a man here? is that why you went radio silent?," he asks, beginning to frantically look around the room. there was something animalistic in his eyes. as if he had been consumed by something other than himself. a demon that was out of his own control.
it was always like this before...
your attention snaps back to him, "what? no," you assure him, voice quiet and panicked as you try to take a step closer to him, "i would never do that to you.. you know that, luke," you try to reassure him, hand reaching out to grab onto his arm.
"do i know that?," he asks, taking a step closer to you then. your hand falls back down to your side, and you take a step back.
there it was, that demon in his glazed over eyes.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿
the phone rings twice before logan's voice comes through, saying your name in that broken, confused tone. you don't respond at first. rather, you let a silence settle over the line. one that seems to unsettle him, because he is quick to ask, "are you okay?"
it is then when your speak soft and low, "no." there is a sadness in your tone, and tears streaking down your cheeks as you speak, "luke came over and he was.. he was so angry," you go on to explain, "because my phone died last night and he thought i had someone over, and he just got so mad. he was really mad, and i know it was my fault, i really do know that-"
he says your name, cutting you off as you speak. the silence that falls from you is punctuated by a soft, gentle sob. "is he still there?," he asks then, his voice wrought with anger and concern. a blend that felt confusing and unfamiliar.
another sniffle, and the back of your hand gentle wipes the tear that had fallen from your cheek, "no, he.. he left," you say then, your voice tight and rough as it escapes you.
without a moment of hesitation he states, "i'm on my way," then there is a pause, "just stay on the phone with me until i get there."
your eyebrows knit together then, and your hand grips tighter to the phone as you let out a shaky breath. "i'm sorry," you say softly then, "i'm really sorry."
there is a silence, not even the ruffling sound of him getting dressed coming through the phone, "you have nothing to apologize for, okay?" he says, and a sigh escapes him again, "i'm leaving now. i'll be there in 15 minutes."
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿
he gets there in ten, and you are convinced he must have sped the entire time and ignored every stop sign. his knock is different then luke's. it's soft and delicate, but there is still an urgency to it. there is a moment where you hesitate, body stilling where you sit on the couch as the realization hits you.
you had called him, and he came.
not only that, but him coming means he would have to see the state you were. the cut across your cheek, and the bruise that was blossoming under it. the wreck of your apartment, a lamp shattered in the corner and the place messier than you ever left it.
a sense of panic floods you as you consider the vulnerability of the moment. of the way that you were cracking open your chest and sharing this with someone. that you were no longer enduring it alone, and that should comfort you. it should bring some sense of relief, but all you can feel is an unsettling doom in the pit of your stomach.
his knock comes through again, and he gently says your name against the door.
you had called him, and he came.
you move slowly then, a soreness in your body that had just begun to settle in causing it difficult to move too quickly. once at the door, your hand hesitates over the handle for a moment. he says your name again, and you turn the knob opening the door to see him.
a deep sadness floods his face, and in a moment it begins to mix with an anger that you know isn't aimed at you. the door clicks shut behind him, the lock snapping into place. the moment that the click hits your ears, you fall forward and into his arms. there is hot, wet tears then begin to soak into his sweater as you sob against his chest, "i'm so sorry," you say through the sobs, "i didn't know who to call," you confess then, "i didn't know what to do."
his arms wrap around your body, hand rubbing gentle circles into your back as he holds you close. there is a gentle "shh" that comes from his lips then as he tries his best to soothe the way your body shakes against his own. "it's okay," he says gently into your hair, "i'm here now, it's okay."
Summary: Logan met you while trying to distract himself from his crush on Hannah. As you relationship progresses, his feeling intensify and suddenly this isn't about Hannah anymore.
Ahead: Fluff, angst (jealousy from Logan and a bit of deception), mentions of smut, Logan lowkey being a male manipulator but that's for another day
To Logan, you were convenient. As awful as that sounds, it was the truth. Your entire relationship stemmed from a need. A need to forget. A need to mend a deep wound that Logan couldn’t talk to anyone about. A need to feel wanted.
Prior to meeting you, Logan was an open wound drifting through another party. Everywhere he went, he saw them. His best friend, Garrett, and Hannah. Hannah was someone Logan always admired from afar. She was their waitress as Malone’s more time than he could count and his attraction towards her was quick to develop. Despite this, Logan never got very far with her. Instead, Garrett swept in like a knight in shining arm. As usual, Garrett Graham got what he wanted and John Logan was left in the gutter.
The two became official just before Thanksgiving break, and with it went Logan’s hope of ever having something with Hannah.
Only a week later, Logan met you. You were working at a bar not far from Malone’s. You wore a tiny black top and a matching mini-skirt, something that showed just enough skin to entice you without giving everything away. Something kept Logan’s eyes on you as you floated through the bar, taking orders with a bright smile and heavy charm.
You approached him at the end of the bar, your smile never wavering. “Can I get you something?”
Logan ordered his usual, making small talk as you poured his beer perfectly.
“Enjoy.” You smiled, turning away to another customer.
That was the first time you met. Logan soon made a habit of stopping by the bar, taking mental notes of when you were usually there to keep track of your schedule. You would smile extra bright when you saw him, quickly learning his order and name.
On slower nights, you spent extra time talking to him. He spilled his guts about his home life, telling you all about his parents and the pressure he was under. You sympathized with him, telling him all about your own life. You were struggling to keep up with school and work. The bar was your second job along with your full class load. As you got to know each other, you let the smile drop, like you weren’t afraid of showing him the mask underneath. In a way, you understood better than any of his friends. You understood how scary it was to be so close to all of your goals, only for some rich kid or a small mistake to knock you out of the running.
One night, he stuck around until your shift ended. You exited the back of the bar, a soft coat wrapped around your body.
“Do you want to hang out?” Logan blurted out. He was taking a chance.
If he had misread the whole situation, he wouldn’t be able to ever face you again. Despite this, he decided to shoot his shot. Earlier that night, he had caught Hannah and Garrett making out after practice. They were holding each other so close, smiles on their faces as they pulled away. They were in love, that was apparent. Logan’s heart clenched at the memory. He needed to erase it. Replace it with something less gut wrenching.
You pondered his question, a bit surprised by the brazenness. “Sure.”
Logan soon discovered a new side to you. While he knew you were a tough cookie from the way you handled drunken patrons at the bar, he didn’t know just how demanding you could be. Or more so, how sexy it could be.
You weren’t afraid to ask for what you wanted. Logan was oftentimes just a puppet with a hard cock for you to use on a nightly basis and he didn’t hate it at all. You taught him what it meant to learn the girl, not just a catalog of moves to use in bed. You weren’t shy about your request either.
“Logan,” You whimpered, your fingers tugging at his hair harshly, making him look up from between your thighs. “Higher. Use your tongue more.”
Your wish was his command. Within a few weeks of hooking up regularly, Logan learned even more about you. He learned how you took your coffee, where you kept random utensils in your kitchen, how to operate your shower, which of your vinyl records was your favorite and that you had a childhood cat named Snowflake. Everyday that he spent with you, he found himself more excited to learn more. To know you completely.
For the first time in a while, Logan was attending a Briar U hockey party. He’d dedicated his days and nights to you, not finding a want or need to party. Dean convinced him to show, even for only an hour.
“I know you have a new lady waiting for you, but the freshman need to see a united front.” Dean begged, using Logan’s natural want to be a good leader to his advantage.
Logan checked the time every few minutes, talking to his buddies and nursing a beer between. He missed you. He wanted to feel your soft hands in his hair and snuggle up on your soft couch, some documentary playing in the background while you talked about your day.
“Logan!” Called Tucker, “Can you grab another thing of cups from the closet?”
Logan agreed, making strides towards the back hallway where they kept supplies. As he turned a corner, he nearly ran into none other than Hannah and Garrett. Their hands on each other, lips connected with Hannah’s legs wrapped around Garrett’s strong torso.
“Shit!” Hannah yelped, Garrett gently setting her down. She wiped her mouth and smiled sheepishly.
“Our bad, Logan.” Garrett apologized.
Logan just shrugged, pulling out the plastic cups from the closet. “No worries,” He turned to make a quick exit, cups tucked under one arm. “Continue, lovebirds.”
As Logan walked back into the kitchen, he paused. Something clicked like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. He felt nothing seeing Hannah and Garrett together. Nothing at all. No jealousy, no hurt. He cracked a smile, tossing the cups in Tucker’s direction before grabbing his jacket and racing out to his truck.
“How was the-” You didn’t have time to finish as Logan’s body fell on to your own, his lips quickly finding your own in a searing kiss. As you pulled back, you just laughed. “It was a good party then?”
Logan grinned, “It was boring without you.”
Your smile remained, seeing the bright look of happiness in his eyes, but you cocked your head in confusion. “So why are you so happy?”
Logan pulled you onto his lap, kissing your shoulder. “I just had an epiphany.”
“Big word.” You breathed, letting his lips trail up the nape of your neck.
“Can I tell you something?” Logan asked, suddenly more serious.
You glanced back, shifting to look at him. “Always.”
Logan took a deep breath. “When I met you, I was heartbroken over someone I never had. I…I liked my bestfriend’s girlfriend.”
“Hannah?” You clarified, recalling her name like she was from a cast of characters.
Logan nodded, “I thought I like Hannah. But in reality, I liked the idea of her. I liked the idea of having someone like Garrett did.” He looked you in the eyes. “I didn’t realize what love could actually feel like until I met you.”
You sucked in a breath. “Do you…do you still like her?”
“No.” Logan denied quickly. “That was my epiphany. I ran into them making out and felt nothing. All I could think about is you. I spent the whole night wishing you were there.”
You cupped his cheek, running a thumb over his stubble covered cheek. “What are you trying to say Logan?”
“When we met, I used you to forget Hannah,” The words cut you but you let him continue. “Now I’m realizing, it was never about Hannah. It was about you. It was about meeting someone who could make me feel whole.”
Logan held your hand, “Can we start again? Can we pretend that was never my intention when we met. I want to love you entirely with all pure intentions.”
You scanned his face, noticing the glimmer of sincerity and desperation in his eyes. You slowly nodded. “Yes.”
Logan grinned, pulling you into a hug and kissing your head. This was the beginning of something he had always hoped for. Love that is pure and real.
pairing: john logan x fem!reader (garrett's sister)
warning: this will include mentions of physical abuse (visible bruising), verbal & mental abuse, abusive relationships, and mild discussion of child abuse, accidental cut (cooking accident) & blood
word count: 2.6k
summary: you had always been someone loud and confident. the kind of person who is so magnetic that it's hard not to be drawn into you. it's hard not to love you, to not want to be loved by you. that was the first thing that any of the hockey boys noticed when garrett graham introduced them to his "annoying" twin sister. you fell into step with them easily, just as you fell into step at briar easily. the popular graham sister with a heartstopping smile and magnetic personality. you met your boyfriend quickly into your freshman year, a st.a's hockey player who slid into your dm's after the first game of the season. it's been about two years now, and everyone thinks you are perfectly in love. you lead them to believe, truly. what you don't show is what lies underneath, a secret begging to be exposed; a girl screaming for help.
author note: this series will be heavy, and i ask that u please take caution as you read it! if you can't tune in for this one, that is okay! all that matters is that you are safe & taken care of!!
the hockey house is alight with energy and chatter when you open the door and give a quick, "hello!" there is a chorus of greetings that come to follow, and you can't help the gentle laugh that falls from your lips as you make your way through to the living, "dean, good to see that you are still always shirtless," you say with an eyeroll. the very comment gets you a middle finger in response and a devilish grin from him.
it had been 3 months since you had seen them all last, a term spent studying abroad in spain. it was a great experience, but you missed the boys more than you cared to admit. they had become such a constant in your life the last couple of years, and even the weekly (sometimes more) facetime calls couldn't make up for seeing them in person.
the chunky heel of your boots clicks against the floor as you make your way into the kitchen. logan sits at a stool against kitchen island, and tucker seems to be fussing over something at the stove. you laugh gently at the sight, walking up to logan and running a hand through his hair, "i like it," you say softly, hand settling onto the back of his head for a moment as you look tuck, "please tell me you have more than just beer in that fridge."
you catch logan's smile then before he responds, "of course, princess, we got seltzers just for you." your eyes roll then before your hand falls from him and he remarks, "and it hasn't changed that much since you last me. you act like it's been years."
there is another eyeroll as you make your way to the fridge, opening it to immediately find the seltzer. you turn then, body leaning up against the counter as you remark, "it feels like years since i have seen my boys," the your eyebrows furrow, "speaking of, where's the idiot?"
that gets a laugh out of all three of them, dean walking into the kitchen finally wearing a shirt, "upstairs with wellsy, i think," he says with a shrug.
this immediately piques your interest, and a wicked smile takes over your face "wellsy? why didn't you lead with the fact that she is here?" then you push your body away from the counter and begin to march up towards the stairs.
"i wouldn't do that," tucker yells after you.
you wave a hand in the air before stating, "it'll be fine, he could do with the humbling embarrassment." that illicit's a laugh from them all as you quicken your pace to the stairs. you half jog up them before making your way down the hall, and slamming your fist against the door, "gare bear," you say sweetly, and the sound of rustling in the room matched with a very quiet 'gare bear?' in a girls voice causes you to laugh, "hurry it up will you? we don't have all day."
then his voice, annoyed and husk breaks through the room, "you are literally two hours early."
there is an eyeroll, not that he could see it, "just hurry up before i send dean in to intervene," then there is a pause, "nevermind, he might like that too much. i'll send tuck."
there is more rustling, but you figured that your point had gotten across enough that you turn on your heel and march back down stairs. you are matched with three different versions of the same laughter, filling the room and the hole that had been left in your chest from missing them.
it's about 15 minutes later that garrett enters the kitchen, leveling you with a glare as he does, "you always did know how to make an entrance," he mutters under his voice as he makes his way to grab a water from the fridge.
your eyes, however, immediately zone in on hannah. there is a wide, magnetic smile that takes over your lips the moment that you spot her, "hannah," you say then, words dripping with honey as you cross the room to bring her into a hug, "girl, it is so good to finally meet you! i have heard so much about you." you hug her tight, and there is this way that her body goes tense before it immediately eases into your embrace.
"i have heard so much about you too," she says softly, as the both of you pull away from the hug. however, your arms stay loosely around her in order to keep her close.
there is an wicked sort of grin that overtakes you then as you say, "all bad, i hope," with a wink. you step back then, and make your way back to the frige, "do you want a seltzer? you should totally have a seltzer. then we can ditch these meatheads and go sit outside! we have so much to catch up on."
"oh, sure," she replies softly, her words stuttering just a bit. it isn't something that you pick up on, too busy grabbing another seltzer from the fridge. you don't notice any of the way that she is looking at you. how there is this amazement twinkling in her eye, and a weird fluttering in her chest. how your confidence and magnetic smile seemed to overtake her for a moment, something that was definitely a surprise.
you turn around and hand her the seltzer, "here you go," you say then before remembering something, "oh, i forgot something in my car! i'll meet you out back in a sec." then, you rush out the house and outside, leaving chaos in your wake much like that of a tornado.
"garrett," hannah says then, "i think i have a crush on your sister." her eyes look to them all then, and all the boys can do is laugh.
"yeah," logan says with ease, "she tends to have that effect on people."
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿.
you stand outside the sigma tau house, arm linked through hannah's. on the other side, garrett holds onto her hand tightly. he had asked if you had to link arms with her, and you had quickly told him that it was a non-negotiable given that you were best friends now. "okay," you say head turning to hannah, "i'm assuming you have been to one of these keggers before?" she nods in response, "well going with me me is a bit different, because i have some rules."
hannah's eyebrow quirks then and she turns to look at garrett before turning back to you, "rules?"
"yeah, basic party safety kinds of things," you add with a shrug, "text me your location, and we will keep each other tracked throughout the night. if you get separated from everyone just text me sos, and i'll fine you. garrett is shit at checking his phone, and i believe that no girl should be at a frat party alone." you then grab your phone from your back pocket and check the time, "if we don't hear from one another by 1am, we send a check in text. if we don't respond, we find one another."
there seems to be this smile that overtakes hannah's face, and a gleam in her eye as she nods along to what you were saying. "i don't plan to be separated from garrett, but the rules sound good to me," she says softly before grabbing her own phone to share her location with you.
you gleam back at her, "safety first, girlfriend. we girls have to stick together." you don't want to read into it, but you can almost see her perk up at the mention of safety. as if it was an affirmation that she needed.
it was easy to get separated from the group. it wasn't a stretch to say that you were popular, and people were pulling you left and right. it was normally how these things went, you would have a minimum of five conversations before you are even able to make it to the kitchen for a drink.
two hours had passed before you link up with hannah again, "oh bans, i'm so happy to see you again," the words come out happily, the smell of alcohol lingering on your lips.
her eyebrows furrow for a moment as she asks, "bans?"
there is a laugh that escapes you, "like banana. like hannah banana, you know? it's my cute new nickname for you." there is a soft smile that seems to take over her lips then, and you can't help looking around her and not seeing garrett around, "where's the big guy?" you ask.
hannah turns around before looking back at you with a shrug, "i told him that i was going to come find you to make sure you were doing okay," she explains before reaching forward to the cooler on the counter and grabbing a seltzer.
"well, isn't that sweet of you," you say softly, adjusting the st.a's hockey jacket that had shifted a bit on your shoulders.
hannah isn't sure if she hallucinates it then, but she is sure that she saw the faint coloring of a bruise on your shoulder. her eyebrows knitting together as she thinks it over, but she is quick to shake it from her head. surely, it wasn't what she thought it was. instead of focusing on that, she asks, "why do you have a st.a's hockey jacket?"
your eyes shift down the jacket and there is a gentle smile on your face as you explain, "my boyfriend plays for them."
hannah furrows her brows again before saying, "i don't mean to sound rude," she starts slowly, "but garrett has said they are all brutes."
there is a flicker of emotion that takes over your face. a cloud that hovers over you for just a second before you straighten it out and replace it with a forced smile, "some of them are, but luke is sweet. we have been together for two years," you explain gently.
then, as you reach forward to grab a seltzer, the jacket shifts just enough that hannah swears she see's another faded, purpling bruise. her head tilts and the question falls out almost instantly, "what happened to your wrist?"
your eyes snap to her, and that clouded expression flickers across your face again. just as before, you cooly correct your expression. as you crack open the seltzer, you offer an slight shrug and explain, "oh, i burned it with a curling iron a little while ago."
there is a moment where she thinks for a bruise and a burn don't often look the same. however, hannah has no reason to not believe you. no reason to doubt the words that come out of your mouth, and so she simply believes that perhaps she didn't see it correctly and it was a burn.
"anyway," you break in, a chipper tone overtaking your voice as you link an arm through hers, "let's go find everyone else, yeah?"
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿
it's later in the week, and you are standing at the kitchen chopping vegetables as tucker cooks something on the stove behind you. logan is sitting on the stool across from the table, watching as you chop and telling some story that you were having a hard time tracking. no, rather, your mind was somewhere else entirely.
it had been 30 minutes since your boyfriend had last texted you, and your eyes kept shifting to the phone that was face up next to you. he had been angry about a picture of you and beau maxwell that he had seen from the sigma tau party. it wasn't anything much, just beau and you celebrating after you made a cup while playing pong.
however, luke had gotten so angry. the day had started with a lengthy phone call, him talking about trust and inappropriate behavior. his voice so tense and loud that it had brought you to tears. it ended with him saying something about space, but you couldn't remember the exact words.
he was always like this, and you had gotten used to it by this point. used to the way he used words to cut like knives and how angry he would get over the smallest things. it was something you had gotten used to, knowing what to avoid to not set him off.
things were different, though, since you got back from spain. as if more things angered him, and it was hard to predict.
since that phone call, he had been texting you off and on. a barage of texts coming through every now and again to remind you of how terrible of a girlfriend you were.
the knife collides with the bell pepper when your phone lights up, and your eyes immediately flicker to see his message on the screen. logan's eyes also flicker to the phone, and there is an immediate furrow in his brow as he reads the display. his eyes shift up to you, but your expression is unreadable as you try to focus on vegetable that you were trying.
it happens quickly then, the way that the knife nicks your finger. blood immediately begins to leak from the cut and a quiet, "shit," falls from your lips as you move to the sink to run your finger under the water. logan is quick to get up, grabbing a few paper towels from the rack and moving to your side.
he doesn't speak as he grabs on your wrist, pressing onto an old bruise that he didn't know you had and causing you to wince. he lifts up your hand to inspect the finger before wrapping it in the paper towel and saying, "come on, we have stuff in the bathroom," and then louder so tuck could here, "she's off knife duty." tuck turns and sees the scene and immediately nods in agreement before calling dean down from his bedroom.
you grab your phone with your other hand as logan begins to pull you behind him and up to the bathroom. the phone slides into your back pocket, and you try not to think about what luke would have to say if he saw logan's hand wrapped loosely around your wrist.
once in the bathroom, he lightly pushes you towards the closed seat of the toilet and motions for you to sit down before grabbing the first aid stuff from under the ground. he then kneels before you and begins tending to your finger in silence. the silence isn't uncomfortable, but rather something that just was. though, that's how it always tended to be with him. a comfortable way of existing around one another that feels faintly like home.
as he wraps the bandaid around your finger, you can't help but notice the crease that was etched in between his brow. his eyes shift up towards you then, hands resting on your knees, as he asks "does he always talk to you like that?"
there is an uncomfortable, burning sensation that takes over your chest as the question settles between you. your eyebrows are furrowed, and your eyes are focusing so intently on his own for a moment. then, without much thought at all, you push his hands away from your legs and stand, "thank you," you say soflty, attempting to push past him.
however, his hand grabs onto your arm, and he pulls you back towards himself, "you didn't answer the question," he states, eyes boring into yours with unfaltering intensity.
a sharp, heavy exhale leaves your body then as you snap, "mind your own business, logan."
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