#don’t cry for him argentina

[aviscarrentals]

argentinian f1 fans who always vote franco for driver of the day despite the fact that he crashed out, you have my heart

[uniteds]

"I have a million things in my head right now. I'm grateful for life, grateful for my grandparents who are no longer here..."

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[katiascraft]

𐙚⋆°.MODALES | FC43

[MANNERS | FC43]

⤷ franco colapinto x singer!reader x lando norris.

summary: You had a brief yet beautifully intense romance with F1 driver Franco Colapinto a few years ago when he was driving for F3. When he decided to end your relationship, you didn’t expect he would move on that quickly.

Warnings: I think angst. Not a happy ending but another happy ending (?) and strong language I guess. Cheating. Dialogues in Spanish mostly. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: 200 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION!! THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!! this was inspired on the EP “modales” by Yami Safdie which I recommend you check it out!! Also I’ll be using her for the posts. First time mixing smau and written stuff so yeah. Hope you like it 💌 don’t forget to like, comment, reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

f1gossipofficial just made a post

liked by @/user1, @/user2, @/landonorris, and others.

f1gossipofficial: breaking news ‼️ a source close to franco colapinto confirmed that @/y/nusername singer from Argentina it’s her ex and she just dropped an EP full of tea! 👀 apparently according to the song’s Franco dumped her for her new girlfriend @Franconewgirl and stated that franco isn’t as good as he seems! Let the tea be spilled everyone!

view more comments

↳ user123: @y/nusername TE EXPUSIERON BB [they exposed you bb]

↳ user1: OMG

↳ landnorizz1: why is our boy here ????????

↳ franmylove: oh no not this girl again pls leave him alone already!!!

↳ user4: she cute tho

↳ usar89: WHAY DOES SHE LOOKS EXACYLY LIKE FRANCO’s ACTUAL GF

↳ user20: girl I was about to mention it

↳ marylovesy/n: no puedo creer que franco la dejó después de que estuvo para el cuando mas lo necesitaba!!! [can’t believe franco dumped her when she was there for him when he needed it the most]

↳ landonorris: I guess I gotta take this to the group chat

↳ landonorris: she is so pretty

↳ user1: LANDO WTF

↳ usar444: land no rizz BRO WHAT

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ────

💋ྀིྀི Track 1 - buen provecho.mp3

back to march 2023.

“Amor, perdón, ya sé, esto es una mierda. Pero realmente necesito enfocarme.. No es por vos, es por mi. Obvio que te amo y siendote sincero te voy a amar toda la vida, pero necesito enfocarme 100% en esto y/n” (love, I'm sorry, i know, this is a shitty situation. But I really need to focus. It's not about you,it's about me. Obviously I love you and to be honest I'll love you forever, but I really need to focus 100% on this y/n) you were already sobbing on the kitchen chair of his small apartment in madrid. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't breaking up with you over his career like you didn't have yours. Like all the sacrifices and support were with absolute shit. Franco was crying too but less emotional than you. He was colder, controlled. You were all over the place. You had to stand up. 

“Franco, qué pasa con todo lo que construimos? Todo lo que sacrificamos por el otro. Te apoye todos estos años para que? Se que las relaciones a distancia son difíciles pero con vos nunca lo fue. Franco por dios, te amo, te amo con todo lo que soy. Por favor, no me dejes” (franco, what about what we built here? All of the sacrifices we made. I supported you all of these years for what? I know distance relationships are hard but with you it wasn't. Franco, for god's sake, I love you. I love you with everything I am. Please, don't leave me) when he heard you mouthing the last sentences something inside him broke in a million pieces. He felt like a monster. He brushed his hair with one hand, anxious. He couldn't look at you after what you said. He felt like the worst human alive but his decision was already made. There was no coming back from it. It`s he`s dream. “Por el amor de dios, franco, decime algo”(please, franco say something) you expressed desperate. It was real and now you were in another country, alone, with nobody to talk to, to go to. All of that was him but even if he was sitting across the table from you, he was gone. So far gone, the room turned cold.  “No lo puedo creer.”(i can't believe it) you were speechless, empty. You had to sit again and that's when he finally looked at you. 

“y/n perdon. Pero es lo que necesito. espero que lo puedas entender”(y/n im sorry. But I really need to focus. I Hope you can understand) he expresado. You shook your head ironically dry laughing.he had the guts to act like this despite it all.  

“¿Sabes qué es lo más triste franco? Pensé que ibas a tener los huevos para decirme que me cagaste en la cara”(you know what 's the saddest part of this franco? I thought you would have the balls to tell me you cheated to my face) you dropped what you knew leaving him in shock. Exposed. Your anger intensified. “Obviamente lo sé hace 2 semanas. Quería que me lo digas porque vos te mandaste la cagada. Y aun así me pones una excusa de mierda y tenes la cara para decirme te amo.te cagaste en mi, en mi amor, en mi tiempo,en mi autoestima. Te cagaste en todo franco. No te voy a decir quien me dijo porque no importa. Ojala que te vaya bien y seas feliz con ella o con quien eras que no sea yo obviamente. Pero también espero que te enamores de alguien de verdad y te haga lo mismo solo para que sientas lo que siento y te des cuenta tarde o temprano lo que rompiste y nunca más vas a volver a recuperar” (i know it since 2 weeks ago. I wanted you to tell me you fucked up. But you decided to lie about it with an absurd excuse and you actually have the guts to say that you love me. You fucked me up and my selfsteam. You didn't care at all. I'm not gonna tell you who told me. It doesn't matter. But i hope you have a good life and be happy with her whatever bitch that isn't me clearly. But I also hope that you fall in love with someone and they do the same to you just to know how this feels and realize what you broke because there's not coming back from this) you  just had to take it off your chest. You were destroyed inside. Of course you still wanted to be oblivious and stay with him like nothing happened. But that was impossible to do. It was your second day here. He didn't even mention he wanted to talk. He was playing fool.   

💋ྀིྀི Track 2 - por favor.mp3

back to june 2023.

You and your bff were having a sleepover at your house. You were lying in bed just chatting about anything and everything. 

“Amiga viste esto? Pendejo del orto como le da la cara?” (girl, did you see this? That motherfucker. The audacity he has.) she handed you her phone to look at it by yourself. You see an instagram post. She looked so similar to you you got really confused for a moment. Then you realized it was franc and his new girlfriend. I think your jaw dropped to the floor. How could they? How could HE? You rolled your eyes. It still hurts. But you wanted to play it cool. its been only 3 months like did he even love you for real? You felt gross. You felt stupid. How could you believe him? That fucking smile. His fucking humor. His fucking fingers inside you that made you feel things noone did before. Ugh you hated him. You really hated him.

💋ྀིྀི Track 3 - gracias.mp3

Back to september 2023

franconewgirl made a post

liked by @/francolapinto, @/user2, @/alexalbon and others.

franconewgirl: sigan mirando y hablando que el novio más perfecto lo tengo yo 🩵 te amo fran [keep watching and talking. The most perfect boyfriend it’s still mine. I love you fran]

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↳ francolapinto: te amo princesa 🩵 [I love you princess]

↳ user23: PARENTS

↳ y/nandfran: 🙄

↳ user56: TELL HER TELL HER SCREAM IT GIRL

↳ user1: can’t believe he left y/n still

↳ yourbff: tiraba palo 🤣 [oh she’s throwing indirects]

↳ francolapinto: ?????

↳ yourbff: 🙄

↳ y/nusername: 💀

comments have been disabled

💋ྀིྀི Track 4 - permiso.mp3

Move forward to september 2024 → Monza GP

The Italian breeze of summer made you feel so happy to be here. Not so much the fact you were in the same place with Franco and his girlfriend. But red bull invited you and you loved racing so much that you couldnt say no. plus, your friend kimi and ollie that you knew because they used to race along franco back when the two of you were together. 

You were so thrilled you met Max Verstappen and that he was so kind and actually had a genuine conversation with you. He was nothing like how the media wanted to portray him. He also introduced you to Lando Norris, another driver. He looked really handsome and was really welcoming as well. You found yourself flirting with him for a bit. He said he had a friend from Argentina and that if you were free you could go and drink mate together after the race. You couldn't deny you felt attracted to him. He was handsome. Of course you gave him your instagram and started following each other. 

A few hours later Charles Leclerc won the race and it was fenomenal to witness. He won the Ferrari home race. The tifosis went wild. Really emotional. It was his first home win. You watched the podium in a smile from the red bull hospitality building drinking a red bull. 

After a few minutes, you got ready to go to your hotel to rest for the rest of the day but Max stopped you. 

“Hey, y/n, there's a party tonight. You are invited if you want to come. Lando will send you the address” he said walking towards you. You smiled pleased and flustered. He was so beautiful in person. 

“That sounds fun, sure” you said with your foreign accent pretty obvious just like franco’s and he smiled widely. 

“Perfect. See you tonight!” he said after giving you a quick hug and walking away. 

(...)

You were laughing a little tipsy. Lando was by your side almost the whole night so far. He was really fun to be around and Carlos came to the rescue so you could talk to someone in your native language. Sometimes it's tiring to think and translate what you will say 24/7. 

After a while you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Little did you know, Franco was gonna stop you before getting into it anyway. You looked at him surprised. His perfume all over you again leaving you kind of confused. 

“Podes dejar de hablar tanto con él por favor?” (can you stop talking to him please?) he said clearly drunk but grabbing your arm gently tight. You frowen and shook you heard before setting free from his grip.

“Hola fran, todo bien? Si todo bien. Que bueno che. No soy mas tu novia asi que no vengas a hablarme y decirme que hacer. Gracias, chau” (hi fran, wassup? Yeah, all good. Great. I'm not your girlfriend anymore so don't come around to talk and tell me what to do. Thanks. Goodbye) you said sarcastically and went straight into the bathroom already annoyed by his attitude. It was being a great night but he has to come around and fuck it up. 

(...) 

Your moans were all over the place. His hands are right on your waist and his movement consistently gets in and out of you. 

“Sos tan linda, y/n” (you're so beautiful, y/n) he said under his breath.

How did you end up here? Again in his arms making you see the stars. Getting you drunk on his perfume. Grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. Him grabbing your waist and twisting you however he likes. Just like he always did. 

A part of you was crying behind your face, smiling in pleasure, getting loud in moans. You wanted him forever. Whether You like it or not, he was the love of your life. No other guy could ever make you feel the way he does by just looking at you. You were angry at yourself. He has a girlfriend and here you are. You are not supposed to be anyone’s slut. The pleasure was intense, reaching your high, hiding your face in his neck, squeezing his shoulders. 

where was his girlfriend?

What have you done? Fucking alcohol and feelings and shit.

💋ྀིྀི Track 5 - perdón.mp3

Fast forward to the next morning

“No franco, esto es un horror. Es horrible lo que hicimos. Me voy” (franco this is horrible. It's horrible what we did. I'm leaving right away) you said feeling terrible. Awful. A knot in your stomach. You got dressed so quickly. 

“Nono por favor y/en espera. Estoy dispuesto a dejarla. Por favor, te extraño muchísimo. Nadie me hizo sentir como vos y nadie lo hará. Lo sé. Por favor, no me dejes” (please y/n wait. I will leave her. Please, I miss you like crazy. On one made me feel the way you did and no one will. I'm sure. Please, don't leave me) he said. How fast the nights change, right? One day you are begging him to stay, and the next he is begging you to stay. You turned around to look at him. 

“Bueno es lo que te mereces después de lo que hiciste. No podemos estar juntos franco. Te acordaste tarde de que me amabas. Yo ya no te amo. Y esta noche fue un error. No me busques mas.no quiero saber mas nada de vos” (well that's what you deserve for doing what you did to me. We can't be Franco together franco. You remembered you love me too late. I don't love you anymore. This was a mistake. Don't look for me. I don't wanna know about you anymore.) your words would have cut his skin if they could. Torn him into millions of pieces. His heart sank. 

You grabbed all of your stuff. You were scared the girl was coming any minute. You just didn't want to deal with it. This shouldn't have happened.

💋ྀིྀི Track 6 - de nada.mp3

move forward to present day

f1gossipoffcial made a post

Liked by @user567, @user1, @user34, @user890 and others.

f1gossipofficial: the secret it’s out! @/y/nusername Argentinian singer and @/landonorris mclaren driver been spotted together getting cozy in Monaco!

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↳ user1: OMG OMG OMG OMG I LOVE THEM

↳ yourbff: 🤭🤭🤭

↳ y/nusername: 😳

↳ user45: la princesa de argentinaaa 🩵

↳ user123: I don’t like herrrrr 🤢

↳ landonorizz: Lando has a terrible taste on women tbh

↳ y/nstan: feliz si ella está feliz 💌 [happy if she’s happy]

↳ user12: omg she confirmed it !!!!!

↳ user90: WHAT I CHOKED

——————————————————————————————

y/nusername made a post

liked by @/landonorris, @/charlesleclerc, @/francolapinto and others.

y/nusername: oops! Nos descubrieron! Seguí hablando de mi. Gracias a mi tenes lo que tenes, mejor disfrútalo 🩵 yo estoy disfrutando la mía y nunca fui más feliz. Te amo @/landonorris gracias por amarme como soy 💌 [keep talking about me. You should thank me for what you have now. You should better enjoy it. I’m enjoying mine and I’ve never been more happy in my life. I love you lando, thank you for loving me just the way I am]

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↳ landonorris: te amo mi bonita 🩵 you make me the happiest. Thank you for being so wonderful and be so you.

↳ y/nusername: omg te amo te amo te amo infinito 🩵

↳ landonorris: te amo infinito 🩵

↳ charlesleclerc: congratulations lovebirds! A pleasure meeting you @/y/nusername

↳ y/nusername: omg thank you prince 💌

↳ user778: ME ACABO DE MORIR SON HERMOSOS [omg I’m dead you are both so beautiful]

↳ yourbff: al fin alguien que te ama casi tanto como yo te amo 🩵😭 [finally someone that loves you almost as much as I do]

↳ y/nusername: 😭😭😭😭 te amo hermana

↳ user09: if he’s happy we’re all happy

↳ user123: I know franco choked when he saw this

——————————————————————————————

Thank you so much guys for 200 followers!! You are the best mwak mwak mwak 💌 first time I tried this format of story so I hope it’s good!! I dont know if it makes sense tho but i tried!!

[tulip-room]

✧♡My Prince♡✧

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Content: Oikawa may be the king to everyone else but to you he's your prince

words: 524

warnings: fem reader

a/n: enjoy this short drabble for my favorite character from the first time I watched Haikyuu- I know it's short, but I still wanted him to have a fic and didn't have the energy to write more lol

Oikawa was almost happy that everyone called him ‘Great King’; it meant no one would call him ‘prince’. The name had started when the two of you– three if you count Iwiazumi who was always your dragon– were young. It had spilled out from your lips after placing a kiss on his cheek.

“My Prince!” you kiss his cheek jokingly. “You saved me from the dragon!” you throw your arms around his shoulders with a smile. He wasn’t aware of it at the age of six but his heart thrummed in his chest and his cheeks reddened. He assumed it was the embarrassment of having a girl kiss him. Well, it partly was. The other was that you had considered him yours. 

The name had become a habit after that, one that made Iwaizumi roll his eyes. 

“My prince,’ you greet softly when you meet the two in the morning to walk to school. “And my dragon,” you wave to Iwaizumi. He nods his head at you but rolls his eyes when he sees the blush on Oikawa’s face. 

“When are you going to stop calling us that?” He tsks. 

“Iwa-chan is just mad that he's not your prince.” Oikawa teases and elbows Iwaizumi lightly. Iwaizumi just elbows him back and ignores the two of you. 

“But he’s my dragon! He keeps creeps away and you rescue me from them.” You explain with a smile. “Thus, dragon and prince.” 

Oikawa has always loved the name. Your Prince. He realizes he doesn’t want anyone else to call him that when one of his fangirls hears and tries to say it. He immediately pauses what he’s doing and turns to the girl. “Don’t call me that.” He states clearly and simply. 

After that small incident he asks you to only call him your prince when others can’t hear. Iwaizumi is confused the next day when you greet him as Tooru but just shrugs. 

The two of you stay best friends throughout high school but once he moves away to Argentina your hearts ache for the other. You visit him a few times, each time ends wit crying at the airport.

You hold Oikawa’s head against your shoulder as the two of you cry. “Goodbye my prince, I’ll see you later.” You whisper to him and he tightens his hold on you. 

“One of these days you’re not going to say goodbye.” He mumbles from his spot against your shoulder. Eventually he does have to let go so you don’t miss your flight and he places a soft kiss on your forehead. “See you later.”

His heart yearns to actually be yours. Luckily he doesn’t have to wait long after your last departure. You explain to him that you’re thinking of moving because you’ve grown a bit dependent on him and it hurts too much to be away. 

As he’s moving your things into his house his resolve cracks and he kisses you. It’s not a pretty movie worthy kiss, it involves noses bumping against each other and tired presses of lips against lips. 

It’s then that he’s most thankful he’s your prince. Because you’re his princess.

masterlist

rules

[kingofech0park]

six ways to say you're my everything

iwaoi (wc: 6,442)

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four. Fourteen years later, he's moving to Argentina. Hajime has never been good with words, so how can he find a way to tell his best friend he loves him before it's too late?

Alternatively, a million times Iwaizumi tries to say I love you, and one time the two manage to get it right.

______

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four.

Hajime watches the big moving van pull up in front of the house with great curiosity. He likes trucks. This one comes with a big dining room table, a couch, a little-kid bed frame that’s just the same size as his– and a whiny brat with huge eyes like milk chocolate and brown hair that’s so shiny that Hajime wants to reach out and touch it, and find out if it’s real. The kid seems perpetually anxious, always hiding behind his mother when he makes accidental eye contact with Hajime through the windowpane but still peering out from behind her legs to catch another glance. 

Hajime thinks he’s weird. He tells his mother this, to which she unceremoniously kicks him outside to go make a friend.

So he’s standing outside, scuffed velcro sneakers kicking a rock through the grass when it happens– New Kid is laying down in the grass across the road, looking through the green blades, and then he screams and sprints across the road without even bothering to look both ways. He’s weird. He also runs straight towards Hajime, screaming continuously and uninterrupted, and not even a full body slam into the other boy can get him to shut up.

“HEY!” Hajime shouts at New Kid, who is now fully on top of him and screeching still to heaven and earth and anyone else who could hear him (which is most everyone in Miyagi, Hajime is sure) and the New Kid pauses to take a breath, trembling and eyes huge and glassy with tears as he stares at Hajime momentarily. 

“I saw a bee .” New Kid whispers before the tears spill over and he begins wailing. Jeez. He’s so weird, Hajime thinks, but wraps him up in a hug anyway and pats his back with one tiny hand. The kid buries his snotty crying face into Hajime’s Godzilla t-shirt and as much as he wants to shove him off, the boy’s hair is just as soft as it looks and all up under Hajime’s chin.

“Did it even sting you?” Hajime questions, half annoyed, half jokingly.

“It DIDN’T.” New Kid looks up with indignation, already wiping away the tears. “But it’s a BEE and I don’t LIKE IT.”

“Were you scared? Lotsa people are scared of bees.” Hajime reassures him, patting his back again. The other boy swipes his hand aside.

“I’m not scared. I don’t get scared because I’m super brave!” It’s not a very convincing show, considering the flush on the boy’s cheeks from all the crying and the string of snot dripping from his tiny nose, but he seems dead set on this fact, so Hajime doesn’t push it.

“Well I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.” He says. “I live in the blue house.”

“Iwai… Iway-soomy?”

“IWAIZUMI.” He corrects firmly. New Kid looks like he’s about to burst into tears again as he tries to pronounce it, tongue stumbling over the Z, and Hajime relents. “You can just call me Iwa, I guess.”

“Iwa… that sounds DUMB.” New Kid sticks out his tongue. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.” Hajime is just getting ready to light into him for calling his name dumb when Oikawa says cheerily, “I’ll just call you Iwa-chan!”

“NO!”

“Iwa-chan!!” The new kid hits Hajime with this thousand watt grin, one that feels like sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and makes his heartbeat speed up, or maybe skip a few beats. He brushes off the feeling as best as he can and hides the sudden weirdness underneath a facade of annoyance.

“You’re just mad you can’t pronounce my name, Dumbykawa.”

“HEY! That is very mean.” Oikawa says, stomping one foot. “Iwa-chan is a meanie.”

“It’s IWAIZUMI!”

And so begins the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

Within a few weeks of the Oikawas moving in, Hajime has become Tooru’s brave knight in shining armor, and Tooru his delicate prince.

As much as the brunette claims to be big and strong and valiant, he screams when he sees ladybugs and the Iwaizumis’ dog and cries when Hajime reminds him that he’s shorter. “I’ll grow taller than you one day.” Tooru proclaims, cheeks pink and embarrassed, and shrieks at his Iwa-chan to stop laughing after.

Hajime has never had anyone to share everything with before. They eat melonpan and milkbread together in the green grass of spring and share watermelon popsicles when the sticky heat of summer comes around. Oikawa screams when grasshoppers appear before them as they sit on the curb and leaps into his knight’s arms, screaming “SAVE ME, IWA-CHAN.” as he hides behind tiny fingers. June passes fast and July faster, a blink of an eye in 31 long afternoons spent wading in the creek and catching dragonflies. Birthdays pass by full of excitement and cake and new toys to play with, but their new five-year-old status means something new: by August, the pair have a far greater foe than large bugs and thunder to reckon with. They are going to kindergarten. 

Oikawa doesn’t want to, vocally complaining every chance he gets, and Hajime doesn’t either– but he still holds his prince’s hand and tells him important things, like that it’ll be just fine and don’t you want to get super smart and big like your mom and dad? Tooru nods, face screwed up tearfully like it always is when anything remotely bad happens, and the two prepare for the first day of school of their lives.

The last sleepover of summer hurts in all the best ways. Oikawa is up in Iwaizumi’s godzilla themed bedroom with his alien patterned pillow under one arm and the two play trucks late into the night, the last sunset of freedom streaking gold and orange across the evening sky. They watch movies until too late, eat far too many sugary snacks, and as night falls, Oikawa snuggles into bed next to Hajime despite the existence of a perfectly good futon and whispers into his neck, “Iwa-chan, I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Hajime mumbles. He knows he’s the brave knight. He knows he’s supposed to protect Tooru, his sweet prince, but he’s scared. And they’re only five. And kindergarten feels like the biggest monster he’s ever had to fight, or maybe the end of the world.

“But I’ll be with you!” Oikawa looks utterly shocked, surprise written all over his five-year-old features, rosy cheeks so endearing, eyes so big and brown and warm. “Iwa-chan will protect me and I’ll protect Iwa-chan.”

“Yep! That’s a good idea.” Hajime feels the smile spreading over his face as the brunette snuggles closer. 

“We’ll be together forever, right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks. His face is all pink and sweet and worried, and Hajime doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t have the words yet to say, of course. I want you with me always and forever and no matter what. Doesn’t know how to say I love you. So he just kisses his best friend on the cheek, short and swift, and hides under the covers.

“Yeah. Go to sleep, Dumbykawa.” He mutters, face flushed.

Iwaizumi is sure of the undeniable truth at that moment– as long as they are together, everything will be okay.

______

Elementary school comes and goes in a whirlwind of time after the two discover volleyball in second grade. 

At first, Iwaizumi is sure it’s another one of Oikawa’s phases that come and go– brief obsessions with constellations, with aliens, with dinosaurs, with drawing, with baking (the shortest, forcefully put to an end by his mother after he almost set fire to the kitchen) but the sport sticks in his life, a new and permanent fixture that changes their friendship in a thousand perfect ways. Time spent wandering through the creeks, Tooru complaining about bug bites, is now spent sweaty and starry-eyed as they both pull off their first decent receives, first basic serves, first sets and spikes that they cheer at, fist bumping as they raucously yell in excitement. Everything about volleyball is new to them both and yet utterly addictive, terrific, fitting into their lives flawlessly like the last piece of the puzzle. Childhoods always pass people by quickly, and theirs is a thing to behold; a thing to dream about in thirty years, a quintessential youth spent finding ways to fly.

But by the end of fifth grade, Hajime is already feeling it– the omnipresent weight of the growth to come, the transition to junior high marking an abandonment of childish freedoms. They have both changed so much since they have met, but volleyball remains, a remnant of a picturesque boyhood to carry onward. Oikawa has latched onto it like a lifeline, and Hajime has to stop him from practicing before he collapses on some worrying nights.

They still have sleepovers often. They practice volleyball constantly, but they still watch space movies at Oikawa’s behest, still share dorayaki and still buy ramune on hot days. But there are other, subtle changes now that they are older; his best friend has begun to sleep on the futon without complaint most nights, and their midnight chatter has become sprinkled with a new topic of conversation: girls.

“Do you have a crush, Iwa-chan? Don’t you think Ishida-chan from our class is cute? She looks at you all the time, you know, I bet she likes you.”

“Knock it off.” Hajime always says, pushing the topic of conversation off before Oikawa can probe too much. The problem with this whole situation is that he doesn’t have a crush. Girls don’t interest him. Boys don’t, either (and it would be sacrilege to admit it if he did). He really doesn’t know what it means to have a crush, anyway. Oikawa has explained it to him before, and he still doesn’t get it.

“It’s like, your heart gets all fluttery and you get excited and you just wanna talk to them! And get to know them. And you think they’re soooo pretty and like to look at them and stuff.”

“The only person I really get excited to talk to is you.” Iwaizumi mutters, voice gruff. “I don’t think I get this whole crush stuff.”

Oikawa looks at him, big brown eyes wide and so, so warm. “Does Iwa-chan have a crush on me?” It’s teasing, but there’s something underneath that Hajime can’t quite place.

“No, Stupidkawa. I don’t have a crush on anyone. You’re my best friend, is why,” He huffs, turning over on his bed. Oikawa sleeps on the futon again and doesn’t whine about being cold, not even once.

______

Tooru gets even more serious about volleyball somehow, once they’re in junior high.

Hajime has to personally drag him home from practice now that they go to Kitagawa Daiichi and are competing. The setter is always grinding himself to dust, trying to be better than anyone else, trying to bring out the best in every player, and trying to beat the Miyagi prefecture’s powerhouse junior high– Shiratorizawa. Oikawa is far from the little kid Hajime met– he doesn’t cry anymore, biting back every feeling instead; refusing to say if he’s hurting, refusing to admit he’s tired or hungry or has any kind of human need, like it would expose a weakness. Every time they have a sleepover now, talk of girls and crushes is a blip on the horizon of Oikawa’s infinite hunger to practice volleyball, get better at volleyball, be the greatest at volleyball, hit a perfect serve, throw a perfect set, c’mon, Iwa-chan please hit it for me just one more time, I want to make sure it’s perfect. It makes so much sense for him and yet is so puzzling to Hajime; the boy who cried in his arms because he saw a bee, not even getting stung, won’t admit when he’s overstretched the ligaments in his knees again, won’t admit when his fingers bleed as he wipes them surreptitiously on the inside of his dark blue uniform. There’s one incident, though, that really cements this new facet of Oikawa’s personality in Iwaizumi’s mind. It’s during a game.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are second years, and Kitagawa Daiichi is playing Shiratorizawa. Tooru is spinning the ball between his fingers, preparing to serve, and his eyes are locked on the enemy– Ushijima Wakatoshi, the left handed freak spiker decked out in purple uniform, eyes narrowed as Tooru goes in for his jump serve. He’s become great at those serves. What once was a cheer-worthy hit as long as it made it over the net is now insufficient unless he scores a service ace, and he’s been practicing for hours and hours, training to perfection, training to the point of injury.

Iwaizumi can feel it from his position on the court. Tooru’s knees are just the slightest bit wobbly as he makes his approach, leaping into the air for the jump serve and his hand hits the ball with a deafening crack, its trajectory poorly aimed but its speed and power immense for a middle school team. But Oikawa’s descent from the jump is wrong. It’s like Hajime can see it in slow motion: his best friend landing on both feet, and then his right knee giving out under his body weight, collapsing to the ground.

There’s some shouting and general commotion but the setter pulls himself to his feet, face screwed up in pain, and continues to move– preparing to set the ball, to score a point, to win the game. Determined to the point of detriment like always. But the color drains from his face when he puts weight on the hurt leg, and he is mid-hobble to a setting position when the time-out is called.

“I’m not hurt, please don’t take me out of play.” He’s begging, pleading, when Hajime walks up to him and grabs him by the arm.

“What were you thinking? Getting back up to play? Stupidkawa!” He’s trying not to shout at his best friend, who’s already in so much pain, but Oikawa just launches himself into Hajime’s chest, finally letting the tears loose. It’s a whispered admission, for him and him alone, into his shoulder that Iwaizumi receives: “Iwa-chan, it really hurts.”

“I know. I can’t believe you tried to keep playing.” Hajime admonishes, pulling his best friend up by an arm around his shoulder, helping him hobble out to the nurses’. Tooru is trembling, trying not to cry some more, but holds onto Iwaizumi like a lifeline. “I want to keep playing.”

“I know.” the spiker replies as he sits him down in the nurse’s office. “But you can’t keep playing if you’re hurt, okay?”

“Shit.” Oikawa mumbles weakly into Iwaizumi’s arm, and the spiker doesn’t know how to tell him: I care about you so much. Please don’t get hurt. I love you too much to see you hurt. I want you to be happy all the time.

So he just says, “Stupidkawa. Take better care of yourself.”

“I know.” Tooru mutters, voice distant. “I know, Iwa-chan.”

______

Hajime doesn’t really get all this crush stuff until he’s a first year at Aoba Johsai.

Oikawa definitely gets it. He’s always gotten it, literally. Confessions left, front, and center, Valentine’s day candy piled up on his desk. He loves sweets, and attention, so he doesn’t seem to mind the overload of girls following him around like lost puppies everywhere he goes. But he never dates any of them, citing he’s too busy with volleyball or some other reason that’s never quite sufficient for his suitors.

There are lots of changes now that they’re in highschool. Like the myriad of girls with one eye always on Oikawa (and by proxy Iwaizumi, because they walk together so much). Like their new teammates and fellow first-years on the team, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who are rapidly becoming their close friends. Like Oikawa growing taller than Hajime, for god's sake. But the weirdest change has definitely been this crush business.

Why does Iwaizumi get a sudden hole in the bottom of his stomach every time Oikawa is getting a confession? Is he worried that he might say yes?

He just doesn’t want to lose his best friend. That has to be it, right?

But the feeling continues. It happens when Oikawa gets excited about a heart-shaped lollipop someone gives him. It happens when Oikawa doesn’t throw away his confession letters and keeps them in a stack on his desk (“It’s not nice to throw them away, Iwa-chan! Just because you’re bad with the ladies doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect their feelings). It happens when Oikawa goes on a cautious first date or two, never committing to a relationship but always dipping his toes in, toeing the line, something, never everything, and never nothing. And it definitely happens when Oikawa has his first real kiss and Iwaizumi feels a horrific twinge deep down in his gut that sounds exactly like, I’d feel gross kissing anyone unless it was Oikawa.

It hits him right then and there. And he doesn’t tell anyone his secret, but he’s always been a terrible liar, and the guilt feels so heavy, like an iron ball sitting in his esophagus whenever he swallows back his feelings: I have a crush on my best friend.

It isn’t a revelation in the sense that the feeling is new. It’s more of an epiphany, finally understanding something lost in translation for the last eleven years since they met, and it makes him a little sick to his stomach to finally know. Surely he had fallen for him, really, at a certain time, hour, day, minute. But the feeling seems to him to just be a natural way of being, an undeniable fact. It hurts around the edges, uncomfortable lodged in his heart now that he’s aware it’s there, but the world doesn’t end as much as Iwaizumi is sure it will, and he could never tell his best friend he loves him, so life goes on unchanged. 

Oikawa keeps saving confessions on his desk, until the pile has to be shoved into a drawer. He keeps rereading them sometimes late at night, when he’s sure he’s unlovable, and Iwaizumi keeps working to make sure his best friend knows that can’t be true. How can you be unloveable if I’ve loved you since the moment I met you? It’s what he wants to say. But he doesn’t have the words, and he doesn’t look for them. It wouldn’t change a thing. Iwaizumi would rather have him, incompletely, his best friend and everything and anything, then lose him to a stupid crush.

So he does his best to forget it.

______

It’s after the last game of an illustrious highschool career. A game against Karasuno. A game that means that Aoba Johsai’s team, and by proxy Oikawa and Iwaizumi, will never go to nationals.

They’ve all cried already. Iwaizumi has already cried into his best friend’s shoulder, wiped Tooru’s tears, compartmentalized all of this as what it is– a childhood dream gone unfulfilled, a good memory to keep nonetheless, and the last volleyball game of his highschool career with his favorite team he’s ever had the joy of playing on. And the last real game with his best friend. But they’re walking home and Hajime knows his best friend’s eyes are too hard to reflect acceptance; he grieves hard and slow and leaves a mark for himself to remember being hurt. 

“You know, you probably won’t be truly happy until you’re really old.” Iwaizumi says, trying to break the silence.

“Iwa-chan! What kind of curse is that!” His best friend’s voice is playful, but it’s off. The loss is still aching. Hajime knows him.

“No matter how many tournaments you win, you’ll still be that annoying guy who chases volleyball forever.” Iwaizumi is trying. He wants to tell him, you’ll be doing this forever. He wants to tell him, you’ll get another chance to win. And another and another and I know you won’t stop until you win everything. And I believe in you– but the words are failing him just like always.

“You always have to throw in an insult.” Tooru rolls his eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say–” Hajime’s brow furrows in frustration, the irritation getting to him. “Keep going without a second thought, anyway.”

Oikawa comes to a pause in the middle of the sidewalk. Does his best friend know how beautiful he looks in the moonlight? The flush in his face, the redness near his eyes from crying, lashes long and still wet, his soft hair swaying slightly as he walks. Hajime wants to tell him all of the most important things. He’s going to lose him soon. They will go their separate ways for the first time in fourteen years. I love you, he wants to say. You’re the love of my life. You’re going to be incredible anywhere. You always are. You’re every star in my sky. Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. But he tries, just like always.

“I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner.” He says. “And you’re the absolute best setter.”

Iwaizumi Hajime does not know how to say it yet, how to say I love you , but he can see in his best friend’s eyes that it reaches him anyway.

______

Everything is changing all over again. Iwaizumi is moving to California for university. Oikawa is leaving, too, but even farther somehow– twelve hours of time difference away from the street with their two houses in Miyagi, to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The setter will train and train, train with José Blanco and train on the beach and grow huge wings that will fly him to the moon and stars. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he won’t need a knight in shining armor by his side any longer.

It’s all happened too soon, and the unspoken confession weighs too heavy, too noticeable in his throat, bleeding all through the spiker’s lungs and skin as the date creeps closer and closer like a scheduled execution– the day his best friend, and possibly the love of his life, boards a plane and disappears to a far-off land to chase stars all by himself.

Iwaizumi has been taking care of Oikawa his whole life. Defending him from ladybugs and holding his milkbread and bandaging his scraped knees and helping him to the nurses’ office. Humming him to sleep on rough nights, spiking every set he throws at him, helping fill out a thousand forms for volleyball team applications. He’s never been good with words, but his love has been spoken through a million actions, a million moments caring, protecting his best friend from bees. Even the ones that didn’t sting. Hajime hopes, prays, pleads, that it’ll be enough. The date of departure creeps closer and closer, and the confession aches as it grows, always too close to the surface to swallow, never close enough to say.

The night before the light of his life vanishes into a memory, though, Oikawa Tooru knocks on his window and ushers him into the muggy midnight of a last Miyagi summer.

Iwaizumi gets out of bed slowly, groggily, rubbing his eyes. They come into focus to show pale, perfect setter fingers pressed up against the glass, cheeks flushed, the prettiest brown eyes on earth staring back at him. He cracks open the window. “What are you doing?”

“Iwa-chan!” His best friend smiles that thousand watt grin that got him so whipped fourteen years ago. It still fills Hajime with that big feeling, a swelling thing that makes him feel invincible, like his soul itself was buoyant, unencumbered by any evil of the world. Light. Free. But Tooru is taller now; there is a smugness in his eyes, muscles rippling along his arms, a full set of grown-up teeth between those pink lips Hajime wants to kiss so badly. His prince has grown beyond where he can reach.

That’s okay. He’s proud of him.

Iwaizumi shoves on scuffed white sneakers and swings one leg, then the other, out of the window and lands in the grass. They’ve snuck out like this hundreds of times before; at six, looking to hunt for fireflies in the stickiness of post-bedtime July; at nine, gazing up at the same constellations they always saw while Oikawa pointed out the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major. Asking if Iwaizumi thought aliens would come and kidnap them if they stayed out too late. Constantly at thirteen, Oikawa throwing set after set tirelessly or practicing his serves until his muscles ached and his knees were scraped on the pavement, Iwaizumi chastising him for his stupidity and holding his hand while they crept home; drinking at seventeen, sharing a secret sip of stolen beer under the light of a half moon, dew catching on the grass, always sharing Iwaizumi’s big green scarf that kept them both warm even if Oikawa had to lean on his best friend’s shoulder to fit. And now, at eighteen; Hajime feels his heart catch and tear on the jagged ribs that cage it. Maybe because it’ll be the last time this will ever happen, and he is not ready to let go.

“It’s my last night, Iwa-chan! Don’t you want to go out with a bang?” Tooru whispers. His voice is hushed and yet so electric; an undercurrent of excitement and passion and the slightest hint of his petulance. So, so easy to love.

“It’s the middle of your last night.” Hajime mutters dubiously. “Doesn’t your flight leave at 10am? Have you even packed?” 

The silence is loud. Iwaizumi looks at his best friend incredulously. “You really are a dumbass.”

“Shut it!” Oikawa retorts, ever so slightly whining, and God, Hajime loves him. “I wanted to go get snacks first! And you can help me pack, Iwa-chan.”

“I am not helping you pack.” Hajime snorts.

“Yes you are. You adore me.”

They walk to the convenience store with those words ringing in his head. They have far too much weight, and they’re so casual, but so true. How do you say I love you to your best friend after fourteen years of knowing it? How can you even start to explain the way you feel? Hajime could tell him lots of things. He could tell Oikawa his stupid hair is so soft and perfect even when he’s slept on it and that it doesn’t matter how much he fiddles with it, his anxiety is pointless. He could tell him that his eyes are warm like milk chocolate and fringed with lashes and that’s what makes all the girls orbit around him like he’s Jupiter, ninety-five moons always circling and never quite touching the planet’s surface. He could tell him that he hates the way he works himself so hard, hates the way he treats himself. Iwaizumi could say that he hates the way that he has to lose him, hates the way that he will let him go, every time, because Oikawa deserves to chase and pin down every dream he could possibly conjure; win everything, all of it, have the world and all the stars in the sky that Hajime dreams of hanging in those big eyes.

Tooru rushes him in the store, proclaiming various things like time waits for no man! and, it’s the last night of my childhood! as they pick out milkbread and pocky and lychee ramune and all the other things Oikawa won’t have in Argentina. They’re still poking around six minutes before closing, and the cashier gives them a withering glare that sends the setter into a fit of quiet giggles. Oikawa’s laughing is pretty, and Hajime resigns it to memory, keeping careful note of it for later– even though he’d really prefer to keep it, to have and to hold forever. They crack the cold ramune open outside and it fizzes sticky all over the setter’s slender fingers. Iwaizumi calls him an idiot like always and everything in the world is right. 

They wash their hands in the Oikawa house upstairs, quietly so as to avoid detection. The setter’s room is a mess– luggage only half packed, Aoba Johsai jersey slung across a chair, glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling from when he was scared of the dark peeling, everything unkempt. Socks aren’t in matching pairs in his suitcase, his Best Setter Award from junior high hanging tilted on the wall, blankets askew. It really only hits when he sees Oikawa’s volleyball shoes tucked neatly into the suitcase: he’s leaving. Possibly forever.

Fuck. Hajime loves him and he’s never gonna know.

Tooru decides after half an hour that packing is boring and also sad and it feels like a sear, red-hot and electric when he grabs Hajime’s hand to pull him outside. Too close. Not close enough. He hops onto his bike, Aoba-Johsai teal, and tells the spiker to get on, right behind him.

“We’ve tried this before. You always get too tired.”

“Iwa-chan, I’m big and strong now and I can totally cycle you to wherever I want to go.” Oikawa protests. He’s right, and Hajime isn’t sure he wants him to be.

“Besides,” The setter continues, “It’s a surprise.”

Despite his insistence, Hajime is the one pedaling uphill with Tooru’s arms wrapped around him within five minutes. His calves ache, burning under tan skin, a sheen of sweat along bare arms. The workout still isn’t enough to distract him from the secret buried inside his voicebox, though, and his best friend’s arms glow pale in the moonlight, fingers pressed into Hajime’s torso. They burn holes right through to his skin, cool through his shirt which is altogether too thick and far too thin. Oikawa’s chin rests on Iwaizumi’s bare shoulder, scorching and distracting, and the setter murmurs a myriad of facts Hajime won’t remember in the morning, pointing out constellations and telling him about the Mars rovers; Iwaizumi is too busy noticing the starlight that catches in Oikawa’s eyes, soft on his skin, reflecting off his hair, to care about anything in the sky. The pair emerges at the top of the hill and Hajime curses as he throws the bike aside, muscles aching, Tooru scrambling off him and the burn of his touch ebbing. Oikawa grabs his face. “Look, Iwa-chan,” he whispers, and tilts Hajime’s chin towards the sky.

He is sure the earth must be a tiny dot. The darkness stretches from end to end and the milky way is sprinkled across it like salt or snow, a trillion celestial suns dotting the cosmos. The moon hangs heavy and cold and Iwaizumi is reminded of the Chinese fairytale of Chang’e, the memory flitting by from a mythology elective. She steals a pill of immortality and is banished to the moon for all eternity. Her husband Hou Yi watches her from earth anyway. Hajime wonders if the trajectory of their lives is the same as his own, Oikawa always chasing things that cannot be held, trapped on the moon for eternity. Hajime will watch him from earth anyway. Hajime will watch him in Argentina from the TV, watch him lose and lose again until eventually he wins, watch Tooru win everything and anything forever and ever and love him all the same from his view on the ground. But just for a little longer, the moon is far, and they can look at it together.

The cicadas are chirping and the two lay in the grass, sipping the last of their ramune, passing the box of pocky back and forth as they stare at the stars. Hajime stares at the empty bottle like it has answers.

“I wanted to take you to the planetarium, before you left.” He admits, voice gruff. “They have all the shit you like, the constellations and stuff. I wanted you to see them.” He does not say, I wanted to see them together. He does not say, I wanted to capture all of those stars and hang them in your eyes. He does not say, I wanted those eyes full of stars to close for a moment so I could kiss you, find a way to say I love you, hold you, never let you go. But all the love he feels is laced into every word, hoarse with adoration, and he wonders if Oikawa catches it. He doesn’t look over in time to see the setter’s face screw up in tears, flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Fuck.” Tooru mumbles, finding his way into Hajime’s arms just like he always does. “I’m so happy I have you, Iwa-chan. I don’t know how to tell you, I just–” He wipes his eyes, cheek burning against Iwaizumi’s bare collarbones. “Thank you for being the greatest best friend in the whole wide world.”

Hajime feels his stomach twist, but his heart still beats warm and steady and certain that he is home.

“And,” Oikawa murmurs, head nestled against his best friend’s shoulder, “We have all the stars anyone could want right here.”

The silence is almost comfortable, almost perfect, with the boy he loves tucked safely up against his collarbone, brown hair tickling his jaw, the warm summer night brushing up against their skin and soaking through. But Iwaizumi’s skin is being burned everywhere Oikawa touches, where his cheekbone sears against his neck, where his chin surely scorches his bare shoulder through his tank top, where his arm wraps around his back and clings to his side, where their legs tangle oh-so-slightly in the grass. The smolder coalesces into a glassy marble, hot on Iwaizumi’s tongue: I love you. It aches. Everything aches, yearning, hungry for just a little more than he can have, insatiable by nature, stinging around the edges. I love you seems serrated now, thorny and caught in the flesh of his tongue, unable to escape and begging to be released. The silence is almost comfortable. But it hurts, too, clawing its way into his flesh with the longing for just a little more.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. Oikawa tries, just like always.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breaks the spiker from his anguished reverie. “Iwa-chan, this isn’t enough.”

Hajime turns his head to examine his face, swallowing the panic that threatens to explode. “Huh? What does that mean?” He says flatly, emotionless, bracing himself for the sting.

“Fuck. That came out wrong, fuck, it’s just, Iwa–” And for the first time, Iwaizumi really sees him. The boy he loves, shaking. Face flushed. Eyes shining. The tremble of his lower lip, moreso on the left side. The goosebumps on his pale forearm even on such a warm night. Oikawa bites his lip, hard, fingers trembling against his best friend’s skin.

“Iwa-chan, you’re the greatest best friend in the entire world, and it’s not enough.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi mumbles after a moment. “Obviously. You have dreams, and there’s Argentina, obviously–”

“No– fuck– I mean–”

Hajime stares at the ground. Hard. “It’s fine, Shittykawa, I get it–” 

He is cut off by a kiss.

Oikawa Tooru crushes his lips into Iwaizumi like he is dying. His fingers find purchase, clinging onto the black tank top, tangling in his hair, finding lines along his jaw, begging, pleading, stay . Let this be okay. His lips are soft against his best friend’s chapped ones and he squeezes his eyes tighter closed than they need to be, too afraid to see. It’s I love you in a thousand ways that neither of them are quite sure how to say. Hajime tangles his fingers in the other boy’s hair, pulling him close, holding all of him, and Tooru is the one to pull away. The one to confess a secret held and kept for as long as he can remember. “Iwa-chan. You are the greatest best friend in the whole wide world, and I don’t want you to be my best friend.” The setter is shaking. Tears threaten.

“I’m in love with you, Iwa-chan.” He whispers. 

Dead silence.

“Tell me it’s stupid.” Oikawa laughs brokenly. “I know it’s stupid, Stupidkawa being stupid, I know, I know– ”

Hajime kisses his best friend again, every cell in his body screaming to pull that boy closer, hold him tighter, cling to him until he never thinks he’s stupid ever again. It’s rough and hungry and confused and scared, and Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words but he’s sure he’ll die if he doesn’t say it, sure he’ll explode.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” Hajime tells him, holding him so close, staring at those big brown eyes. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Oikawa, I love you more than anything.” 

Tooru’s face is pink and sweet and wet with tears and he whispers, “I love you more than anything, too.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Hajime’s voice is rough. He isn’t good with words. He doesn’t know how to say everything he feels and knows to be true. Doesn’t know how to tell Tooru he’s the center of the universe. But he can see in his best friend’s eyes and all the sparkle in them that he already knows.

“Yeah.” Oikawa whispers, and for a moment, everything in the world is right.

So continues the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

The new kid moves away from the house across the street when Iwaizumi is eighteen.

There’s no moving van this time. Tooru hugs Hajime tight in front of the blue Iwaizumi house and they hold hands the whole car ride in the backseat. They both do their best not to cry. Change is a part of life, one they’re both well aware of by now. 

Hajime gives the love of his life one last secret kiss in the airport. Their fingers untangle as Oikawa says goodbye, vanishing into a dream. But he’s never really gone. He’ll be scared of stupid things just like always, work himself to the bone just like always, get stupid confessions just like always. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he couldn’t be prouder. And when Tooru has caught every shooting star he’s ever wished on, won everything and flown to the moon a million times, he’ll come running home. Gold medals will hang from his hands and clank together with the sound of victorious return, that thousand-watt smile on his face even after all this time, his hair still soft and shiny as always, milk chocolate eyes still the prettiest sight in the whole world.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words, but he says I love you at the airport anyway.

And, goodbye.

And, I can’t wait to see you again.

______

I hope u guys liked it! I got so obsessed with telling their story over time and it ended up being thirteen pages long on google docs, font size eleven in the span of about 24 hours lmao.

Also, I'm not 100% sure it's technically six of anything. six ways to say you're my everything just sounded like a cool title. roll with it pls

Thanks for reading !!!

[iwaoiness]

Japan is one set ahead of Argentina, and if they win this fourth set, they'll make it to the final. However, Argentina isn’t making it easy for them, returning every point and applying pressure, especially with their blocking. Each play becomes more intense, faster, and overwhelming.

The players move with the fluidity of a river, functioning like a perfectly synchronized machine, not a single misstep. Oikawa Tooru takes a glance at the opposite side; two seconds are all he needs for his mind to plan the next move. As his libero delivers a perfect pass, Oikawa rushes under the ball and leaps into the air to set it. Hyakuzawa stays in front of him while Ushijima and Suna handle the Argentine ace. Tooru grins hungrily, drenched in sweat, and in the last second, changes his stance, sending a powerful spike that cuts through the air like an arrow.

The crowd erupts into wild cheers as the point secures the victory in this set. Oikawa is quickly swarmed by his teammates, ruffling his hair and patting him on the back in congratulations. Surrounded by his team, Tooru glances over at the Japanese bench, his lips curling into a teasing smile as his eyes lock with Iwaizumi’s, who stands with his thick arms crossed. Iwa rolls his eyes but can't hide the soft smile tugging at his lips.

A whistle blows, signaling the short break before the fifth and final set. Everyone heads to their benches, Oikawa nearly jogging with his hands clasped together. However, he stops right in front of the opposing bench, his smile widening as Hajime meets him.

"This isn’t your team, Shittykawa"

Tooru wants to send all hell, jump on him, and kiss him again until their lips ache.

"Can't my Iwa-chan handle having a VNL finalist in front of him?" he gasps dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes with a snort.

"That remains to be seen, idiot"

"Oh! Speaking of seeing," Tooru leans in, tilting his head as his grin stretches wider, alerting Hajime because he knows that smile all too well. "Did you see the foul in the third set?"

The athletic trainer blinks, frowning slightly in confusion.

"The fuck are you talking about? What foul?"

"You know," Oikawa purses his lips for a moment to keep from laughing, "that foul."

“Tooru, I’m sure there wasn’t any foul.”

Oikawa sighs, pouting adorably.

"Wrong! Just ask me again, Iwa-chan!"

This time, Hajime raises an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Just ask me!" Oikawa repeats, practically vibrating with excitement.

"I swear if this is one of your stupid tricks, I’m going to—"

"Come oooon, ask meee!"

"Ugh, fine," Hajime groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What fucking foul?"

And like a tulip blooming open to the world, Tooru’s toothy smile blossoms on his face, sweet, serene, and loving.

"Fouling in love with you!"

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, and for a second, he feels his heart stop completely before it bursts into a pounding rhythm that shakes his ribs, roars in his ears, and flutters in his stomach.

"You... You are—" Hajime, with flushed cheeks and ears, tries to say something, but he’s left opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. "How... Just... Argh, fucking damn it!" he finally curses, covering his face with both hands while Oikawa stands in front of him, laughing, loud, childlike, and affectionate.

"Don’t be shy, Hajime-chan!" Oikawa teases a little more, moving in to wrap him in a warm hug, forgetting entirely about the cameras, the fans, their teammates, the coaches, and the fact that they’re going viral (again) on social media.

...

silly thing of my silly boys cuz i need dopamine and serotonin bc my laptop decided to die 3 days ago and i had to take it to the technician and im still waiting for him to tell me if it has salvation and i HOPE it does bc in there are SEVEN years of my life (and my haikyuu fics im crying dont touch me)

but at least i've my phone and can write little iwaoi drabbles for yall #positivism

thank u so so so much today and every day for reading and supporting <33

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[earthtooz]

𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗜𝗙𝗧 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥

in which: oikawa surprises you with the best christmas present you could ask for.

warnings: 2.1k words, fluff !!!, reader is called 'beautiful', gn!reader, established relationship, lmk if there are other warnings!

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this one <3 by far the cutest i've written :(

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

When Iwaizumi invited you to a Christmas party with fellow Aoba Johsai graduates, you thought nothing of it. It was going to be on two nights before Christmas, just a small thing amongst your closest friends and an invite that you accepted pretty readily. 

It would be a good distraction from missing Oikawa too much considering how four days after would mark six years of dating since third year. Although you wish he could be in Japan to celebrate the holidays with you as he’s done every year since leaving, he seems to be busier this time around because he’s got a match to play on Christmas to celebrate some sort of ‘tradition’. At least he’s given you the livestream link to watch, promising to wink at the camera with each service ace he gets.

“Hi, pretty,” Oikawa’s voice rings out from your phone which was currently propped up against the wall of your kitchen. You’re scrambling around, trying to find the appropriate ingredients needed to make dinner.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, not paying much attention to your phone screen that your boyfriend was currently dominating in all of his drowsy glory, having just woken up from a good night’s rest.

“What are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Without me?” You can hear the pout in his voice as he peers at you with his tired eyes that were still slightly swollen.

Brushing aside the obvious that he was in another country, you place your chopping board in front of your phone so he can hear your response clearly. “Yes because you should be asleep instead of waking up to call me at 6:50am.”

That earns you a whine. “But I love spending time with you! I can’t do that whilst asleep.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you don’t dream of me,” you set out to cutting up some carrots, decidedly making a curry for tonight’s dinner.

“I do! But when I’m not dreaming of you I wake up so I can spend some time with actual you,” Oikawa points out, his confession making your insides gush with adoration and warmth. You wish he was here so you could actually kiss him for it. “Don’t you dream of me too?”

“All the time. Even when I’m not asleep, you’re always on my mind, Tooru.”

His lips become wobbly and a sudden shine glosses over his eyes, was he about to cry from that small of a comment? A sniffle that he let escape answers the question for you. “You’re so perfect, I love you so much,” he mumbles, slightly muffled when he wipes his eyes. There’s urgency in his next demand, instructing you to ‘tell me you love me too.’

“I love you too, Tooru,” you reassure. “I really hate that you’re not coming home these holidays.”

“I know, love, I hate it too, I even tried crying in front of my manager but she wouldn’t budge!”

“Good. Someone has to keep you in check when I’m not there. Send her my best wishes.”

“Not you too! Even the love of my life is cruel to me.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

He humphs, watching you work in silence. No matter how much you berate him for waking early, you will always appreciate his company, even if it’s over a phone screen that leaves you constantly yearning for a physical version of him, but at least the emptiness can be mended with video calls, messages that update you about his day, and selfies to match.

Although the feeling of an empty bed, unused mugs, and untouched books that weren’t yours will always haunt you, no matter how hard Oikawa can try to mend it, it just isn’t the same without your other half by your side. You could be selfish- well, you already are, it’s just that you’re not inclined to act on your selfishness because watching him soar and flourish in Argentina was a real blessing. If he’s happy, then you are too.

“You’re not mad that I’m not coming back, are you?” He asked, voice suddenly a lot softer and timid.

Pouring some water into a pot, you huff with contempt. “I’m not, I promise, it’s just- I really miss you. It’s been a while since your last visit to Japan as well and it feels a little empty in our apartment without you. My life feels a little empty, too.”

“You’re gonna make me actually cry, I hate it when you’re sad,” he mutters, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest as his frown deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all, Tooru. I don’t want you apologising for things like this because I’ll support you no matter what, you know that.”

“I’m apologising because you’re too good for me. You could’ve left me whenever you wanted to find a ‘better’ man- if he exists, but he doesn’t because I’m already the best! Yet you’ve decided to stay with me only for me to put you through all this.”

You scoff. “You also could’ve left me to find a ‘better’ partner-” 

“-no such thing,” he says with a wink, but the mischief doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Yet you’ve decided to stay with me as well, Tooru. You put so much into our relationship that I don’t have anything to complain about, which is good because otherwise Iwaizumi would throttle you on my behalf.”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with you, you’re the one for me. I figured that out before I even left for Argentina.”

“You’re the one for me too, Tooru,” you confess timidly, making a ‘heart’ shape for him with your hands. Although this is far from your first time being vulnerable with one another, it’s always going to be a little cringey expressing your feelings for one another, no matter how comfortable Oikawa may get with you.

The conversation dwindles a little as you transfer your phone near the stovetop, waiting for the vegetables to boil whilst preparing the curry roux you purchased earlier. Under the kitchen lights with the sound of appliances in the background, you’re content to just exist with your lover through the familiarity of your device. 

As the vegetables soften and the rice cooker is operating the background, Tooru has gotten up and done his morning routine- shirtless because he was generous enough to keep you in mind, before showing you the beautiful landscape of Argentina from his apartment. It’s outside on his balcony that you continue the conversation.

“Iwaizumi actually invited me to a Christmas party with our Seijoh friends,” you tell him once you leave the pot to boil.

His eyes widen a little in curiosity, leaning closer to the phone in interest. “Are you going?” 

“Yeah, I am. I thought it might be fun.” Tapping your fingers on the kitchen bench, you raise your phone closer to your face so you can see his pretty face clearer. “I’m excited to catch up with the friends I haven’t seen in a while which is easier because I won’t have your annoying ass around me all the time.”

Putting his hand over his chest and clenching it, he acts as though he’s been fatally wounded and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how dramatic he is.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you relent.

Oh what a miracle, Oikawa has been healed. “Can I help you find an outfit?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face. When you nod in agreement, he continues. “You should wear that one outfit you love that I got for you. You haven’t worn it at all and I think you’d look really nice in it,” he mutters with a small pout, putting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not even gonna be there to see it!” 

He raises his hands in defence. “You can always send photos! It’ll be like I’m with you through the dress because I bought it and so technically, that’s me showing off how beautiful my partner is.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, denying his compliment with a shy expression. Your humbleness pisses Oikawa off.

“Don’t be like that. You know how pretty you are,” he reaffirms. “I hate that I’m not there in person to remind you.”

You soften a little, trying not to let sadness plague your expression again. You truly are miserable without Oikawa, feeling incomplete unless he’s here with you but that’s how you know you’re soulmates, you suppose. Such a painful way of realising something so beautiful. 

The call ends twenty or so minutes later because he needed to go on his morning run, but this routine is performed daily. He calls, asks you about your day, you tell him then ask him about how he is, and what he has to do later. It’s a nice routine and one you’ve been sticking to very frequently, a balm to the burn of longing.

But when you’re preparing for the Seijoh Christmas party, you’re about to call Oikawa to show him how you look, only for him to not answer your call which was very unusual. Maybe he was still asleep? He did mention how training was draining him and that it hurt to walk so you chalk it to that explanation and let him rest for a little longer. He deserves it for how much he gives towards being a volleyball player.

Leaving the house at exactly 7:30, the address to the place you were told is only twenty-five minutes away. Although you find it weird that even though it’s a friend-organised party, the venue was a professional and proper hall for celebrations. Looking on the website, there were even full-length windows acting as walls that gazed at the scenery outside but you brushed it off, thinking nothing of it before going on with your day.

But now that you’ve arrived, managing to find a spot in the relatively filled parking lot, you can feel your gut brewing in scepticism and uncertainty. Were you at the right place? Surely, the fairy lights are on and beautiful, there’s cars so there must be people, but why was there no music? No Mariah Carey to tell you that you were in the right place?

Then, the familiar face of Iwaizumi stepping outside calms the turbulence of anxiety you previously drowned under. He waves at you with an excited grin, helping you up the small stairs with a gentle hand.

“You look nice,” he compliments upon exchanging greetings. You smile gratefully at him, thanking him for his company and for his compliment. 

“Thank you, Oikawa actually picked this out for me, it suits me quite well!” You gushed. “You look nice tonight as well, Iwa.”

“Thank you. Should we go inside? A few people are already here.”

Nodding, the dark-haired quickly leads the way, ushering you inside through the halls which were much nicer than you expected. The reception is beautiful, there is so much art decorating the walls but it gave a refined and sophisticated vibe, and the gentle lighting only pulled it all together. 

Whoever is hosting this party must have gotten a raise. No, maybe a promotion instead.

As your shoes clink against the marble floor, Iwaizumi opens the door for you and you thank him with a grateful nod before abruptly stopping.

The room is enchanting. The decor is beyond comprehension, the lighting is subtle but glamorous, and the windows indeed gave a beautiful view of snow coated trees, gently lit up by fairy lights.

But, the most marvellous sight of all was Oikawa Tooru himself, looking as dashing as ever whilst standing in the midst of an empty room.

Your feet take you to him without thinking and you don’t have time to think before you’re embracing him in a bone crushing hug, a gesture he returns with just as much fervour and passion as he places a lingering kiss on your temple. Melting into each other’s embrace, there’s a shared feeling of relief, warmth, and content as you breathe him in.

“My love,” you whisper into the crisp fabric of his button-down. You’re too overwhelmed with happiness to be confused on the logistics of how and why he was in Japan. “You’re here.”

“I am,” he responds, separating from you to cup your cheeks, looking at you with so much love and adoration, eyes going down to admire the outfit you’re wearing. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my beautiful, beautiful Y/N.” 

You hide away from him slightly, shying away at his boldness.

“I’m finally home. But, there’s something I need to do first.” Oikawa then sinks to the floor on one knee, pulling out a velvet box with a stunning ring as he looks up at you with doe eyes that brim with hope.

[xkaidaxxxx]

Kuroo x Reader x Oikawa

Mentions: Breakup, Pregnancy, Nsfw, fluff

sorry for any errors

“Momo no sir! Get back here!” kuroo yelled, calling out to his dog and chasing him, while Momo was chasing you. Kuroo eventually managed to catch him by the leash and his collar. “I’m so sorry, miss. He’s not like this at all.” He said. When he looked at you he understood why Momo tried attacking you. You looked kind of like his ex-omega. “I can make it up to you. Let me take you out one day,” he said. You exchanged numbers and went about your day. You found out he was a famous volleyball sports promoter in the States and Japan. You liked how we kept in touch with you when he traveled with the team he was promoting. You and Kuroo dated for 2 years and a half. “ I can’t do this anymore y/n.I’m tired of you. It is about time I broke up with you. Sorry.” he spoke as he set a large box that contained things you had left at his house. You cried as you watched him leave. After 5 months he found himself a new omega. You wondered how he was able to move on so quickly. Before you broke up he had gotten his rut. He knotted you. Both of you had no idea. You were fucked stupid and he was out of control. You were both drunk on sex. “ Alpha! Do-Don’t stop! S’good. Ju-ah!” you said as he pounded you. He couldn’t control himself. You were fucked stupid. “Omega.” he groaned. You can feel him grow. He knotted you. The following month was when he dumped you and after another month, that's when the signs started showing you were pregnant. You called him and gave him the news. He refused to believe you. You called many times and every time he rejected the fact. You gave up and moved on with your life. You moved out of your apartment and stayed in the house your grandmother had left you. The pregnancy was difficult for the first 5 months, however, you stayed strong for your wonderful baby. You're a blessing. Oikawa came back from Argentina for a break. You told him about the baby and he helped you through the pregnancy. He helped with chores. Helped you when you wanted a bath. He went to every doctor's appointment. He even took care of the bills. You eventually wondered why he hasn’t gone back. He said he wanted an extended break. Truth is that he didn’t want to leave your side. During the pregnancy you fell in love with each other. He spread his pheromones around the house and on you. 

“It’s going to be okay, baby.” oikawa said holding your hand. You gripped it hard as you pushed. You were yelling and whimpering. He would wipe your sweat away and peck your forehead. “ Good baby. You’re doing amazing. I love you very much.” He continued.   “I..I can't go no more!” You said feeling like you might pass out. The nurses were getting everything ready for your baby boy to be born. “Yes you can love. You’ve got this.” he encouraged you with a smile on his face. “One last push. He’s almost out.” the doctor said. She’s so nice and patient. He released pheromones to calm you down as much as he could. You gave one last big push. You heard the baby’s cry. You smiled with everyone else in the room. “You did amazing baby, so great.” Oikawa said wiping your sweat away. You both suddenly kissed and felt instant relief. About 30 minutes later the nurses came back with baby Aoki and after a week you were finally allowed to go home. Time went on so fast. Aoki was 3 when Oikawa proposed to you. 

“I’ve been in love with you since our 2nd year of High school. I love you more than life. My beautiful omega. My y/n will you marry me?” he proposed with tears slipping. “I love you too! Y-yes!” you responded loudly. You kissed passionately. The wedding was big. He couldn’t believe he married the woman of his dreams. You marked each other during the honeymoon.(Aoki stayed with his grandparents).

2 months after you both decided to change Aoki’s last name to Oikawa since you gave him your last name when he was born. During Aoki’s birthday week you guys took him anywhere he wanted and bought him whatever he wanted. On the last day of his birthday week you all decided to go to the park and hangout. That day you all bumped into Kuroo. The exact same day,time and month you 1st met him. He walked over spreading his pheromones towards you. You were stressed,worried,nervous,scared and sad. Oikawa picked on it immediately. He quickly carried Aoki and walked over to you. You rubbed your bump. “Hey..It's been a long time.” Kuroo spoke to you. “Hey babe it’s time to go.” Oikawa said and helped you stand. Aoki grabbed his Mommy’s purse. “Yes it has.”you replied. Kuroo looked at his son. Aoki looked more like kuroo if you pay more attention to his facial features. “ Is he-” you interrupted him. “Yes.” you replied. You didn’t want to lose Aoki from him. Kuroo noticed your bump. He was sure you must know the gender. You’re having another boy. “I’d like to see him more. He’s mine as well.” He said to you, Aoki’s was placed in this carseat and got buckled up by Oikawa. “You haven’t been here for 4 years. Fuck off Kuroo. You’re a piece of shit.” You responded. 

A week later Kuroo was standing at your door with a lawyer and a cop. “ I have the right to be with my son,” he spoke. The lawyer handed you a folder. Oikawa took them instead. “I’ll see you in court.” he said and left. You started crying. “ Hey, better together, remember. We have to stay strong.” Oikawa held you. Thank goodness Aoki was in his nap time. Otherwise you’d probably lose your mind if he witness what just happened. 

You and Oikawa got yourselves a great lawyer. 

“ This is my decision. Mr. Kuro Tetsuro is allowed to see his son 3 times out of the week. He’s required to pay 7k as child support since you don’t work. Case closed.” the judge said and left the room. Kuroo was so happy. He’s able to be there for his son. 

A month later you told your son about kuroo. His real father. He knew because he looked nothing like Oikawa. As time went on he was happy to have 2 great fathers and an amazing mom.

[i-like-their-uniforms]

notes from straight after the Blur concert on 9th July Wembley (feel free to add to this in reblogs or comments):

Damon kissed graham then went and kissed Alex in cheek. Crowd said aww for both but Alex’s was louder, possibly cause the crowd had caught on by then. Graham then said ‘why did he get a bigger reaction..’

Damon braking down crying after under the west way

‘Forget that just Fucking get in with it’ before song 2 as Dave had been playing for a while and Alex’s go pro or tuner thing was taking ages to get fixed

Damon telling the story of ‘Wembley’ how Wember plotted out some of his land and ley means laid out, or something?? And how if centuries ago, eating mushrooms and stuff he might’ve dreamt this up, Wembley, and us all there.

And look at us now. Look at where we are. Damon saying look, how are we here to graham. Damon saying they were 12 and 13 at school and now they’re both still together in Wembley. And then them both doing a cute little celebration waving their arms in the air looking at each other haha

Early on, before the Wembley story, Damon asks crowd if they don’t mind if he takes a sip of his chai tea. It’s in a teacup. He gets it then drinks a bit. Graham then asks ‘can I have some chai tea?’ Suggesting it’s not tea in that cup…

Damon’s was like yeah ‘lab coat guys name’ make gray some chai tea will you, or one thing like this

Graham balancing a cup of drink beer? On his head. Damon saying bet you won’t start the song like that, go on I dare you, bet you do it’ or something. Graham goes to play to pretend to start the song off, and stops quickly and takes drink off his head

Alex with his cigarettes and hip out, classic low camera angles making him look taller than he already is

Damon’s jacket - which I’ve found is custom made for him by Fila as he couldn’t find the original

Damon shouting out all the country flags he could see. One of them, he points out a flag which I didn’t see, and saying ‘what’s this one, [mumbles some country names] Estonia? Is it Estonia? No? Oh dear I got that one wrong. I don’t know that one’ and moving into the Mexican flag. Getting mexicos one wrong at first (which is why he said muchas gracias at some point I think). Seeing Argentina flags later on and going ‘Argentiiiinnaaa’.

Damon praying on his hands and knees in thanks during a song

Damon being very emotional in general throughout

Graham throwing his guitar in the air and catching it to carry on playing until the end of the song without the guitar strap on

Damon saying ‘thank you, muchas gracias’ after a song

Lots of Damon holding crowds hands. One point he hugs a fan and she screams high pitched which gets picked up very clearly by the mic, makes the crowd laugh. He pulls away and as he walks off points to a guy a person down from her and says ‘it was you who made me cry!’ Or something. Man smiles

Graham just being a legend on guitar. Sometimes laying on the floor playing. Doing backwards rolls, throwing his guitar in the air and catching it etc

The crowd cheering for coffee and tv and from what I remember singing it especially loud. Support of grahams one sing song!

Graham walking off the first set of songs leaving the guitar on the stand making noise

Graham being cute before and after coffee and tv, saying hello into his mic before, and saying thank you after

Damon singing lovingly to graham in an emotional love-y song (and graham not looking back as he didn’t see Damon looking at him (cousin’s observation who doesn’t know much about them individually/ their friendships or which song)

Damon before Sunday Sunday saying since it’s a Sunday we have to sing this

Damon at the start of the set saying I know it’s a Sunday and Monday the worst day for majority of us is upon us but let’s just forget about Monday shall we? And the crowd cheered.

Damon at the start saying Saturday was amazing and Sundays crowd won’t beat that surely… later on saying Sundays crowd may be better.. I guess just playing with the crowd

Saying more towards the end, ‘I’m getting used to this now you know? Yeah it’s only Wembley, done this before’ or something similar, joking that he’s already over the awe of Wembley

Not the concert but as everyone was queueing in the Main Street to leave Wembley to the tube, while we were waiting to be released in smaller groups some legend security guard started to play blur music from his tannoy/megaphone for us all to listen and sing to while waiting. Was fun and very nice of him!

[yovrstruly00]

hidden desires | tom bennett

“Stop it Tom, can’t you see I'm busy? What a fuckin’ bastard.” You complained as you crumpled the letter on your table. You heard Tom chuckle, making you throw the crumpled paper at him. “Who are you even writin’ to? That lad from the diner? Wasn’t he in the army?” He asked continuously, hovering over you as you started rewriting your letter. 

“Yeah. Unlike you, he’s noble. Had to go with your sister to get you out of jail. Don’t you have an ounce of decency in you?” You retorted, making him step away from you, raising both of his palms in the air in defeat. 

Lois and his dad, Mr. Bennett, as you call him, were nice enough to let you reside in their home. You’ve been staying at their place for a few months now since your dad was deployed. You share a bed with Lois, which you were hesitant at first since she’s roommates with her brother. Tom is your best friend's brother. You despise him a lot because of his cocky and brash attitude. You hate interacting with him, you always avoid him, but he lives there too, so there’s nothing you can really do about it. But Tom wasn’t home most of the time, and he comes home during the day, just a few minutes before you leave for work. But for these past few weeks, he’s been staying at home more, bugging the hell out of you if his sister is absent. 

‘How are you James? It has been six weeks since you last wrote. I am getting a bit worried-’

Your writing was interrupted when Tom jerked the paper from you. You stood up quickly to retrieve the paper, but Tom is tall. He raised his arm and tiptoed so you won’t be able to reach the letter. You stomped in annoyance and smacked his chest which made him whine. 

“You’re still writin' to him?” He asked as he looked down at you and gave you a questioning look. You rolled your eyes and returned to your seat with heavy feet. You sighed and groaned. You leaned back and took a sip of your tea to ease yourself. 

“I’d like to assume that he’s dead cold as we speak, or fuckin’ some whore somewhere in Argentina. Maybe that’s why he won’t write back to you.” He teased which was your last straw. You had enough of him. You stood up and faced him, making him smirk. “You blithering son of a bitch. I had enough of you Tom!” You exclaimed but he just shrugged. You palmed your face as you let out an exasperated breath. 

“I need air.” You told him as you strode away to grab your coat near the front door. 

“It’s late and cold already.” He simply said. 

"I want to be away from you!" You yelled. With your narrowed eyes on him, he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "Quit pestering me will you!? It has been weeks! You’ve been infuriating me with your presence! I feel bad for your family for having to put up with your intolerable personality." You took a step back when he strutted toward you. He was too close for your liking. You retreated, but your back met the door. He pursed his lips and appraised you. Getting dizzy, you blinked a few times to process how close he was. 

“Go on love, run your filthy mouth again.” He taunted you, making you break eye contact with him. He tutted at your action, you heard him let out a scornful chuckle. “Eyes on me sweets.” He instructed, but you chose to ignore him, still looking away. “I said, eyes on me.” He repeated, but with more authority in his voice, making your heart palpitate. You can feel his hot breath near your face. You’re nervous, you’re scared, you don’t know what’s going on, it’s the first time he acted like this with you. You looked up at him nervously. 

“Told you to run your mouth again didn’t I?” He said, maintaining his eye contact with yours. Your dumb pretty doe eyes making him weak in the knees and there's the growing ache in his trousers. Blinking almost every second to stop a tear from coming out. You were about to cry.

Your soft features were a feast to his eyes. You didn’t know about the way he ogles at you every time you walk out the door. The way when his eye quickly glances at your sleeping figure, your nightgown riling up to your thigh. When he looks at your lips after you drink your morning milk. How he imagines your red lips staining his white shirts. How he imagines you riding his cock, making a mess on his sheets. How he imagines you moaning his name every night whilst he sucks on your tits like a hungry calf. You didn’t know how much he wanted to fuck you. 

“Hmm, quiet now aren’t we?” He teased. You let out a heavy sigh as he gets closer to your body. It makes your knees weak. The boyish look on his face and his cockiness, it irritates you. But now, you couldn’t even utter a single word. He looks down on your lips before looking at your eyes again. He slowly leans forward, giving you time to push him away. His arms caging your body beneath him. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips on yours. You tensed, making you hold your breath. He pulled away because of your reaction. Wide eyes narrowing on him. You kept quiet, making him groan in frustration. He brought his other arm down to place it down on your hip, pulling you toward his hard cock, making you gasp. 

You felt his lips on yours again, but this time you kissed him back. Messy and needy his kisses were. Nibbling your lips as he gropes your backside, making you moan in his mouth. His other hand on your soft locks to deepen the heated kiss. He pulled back so you can both catch your breaths. Your doe eyes hazy and your glazed lips parted, the sight makes him want him to take you right there now. “P-please Tom.” You pleaded before you pulled him back. While his other arm was still grasping your hair, he placed his thigh between your legs and his strong arm on the wall to support his weight. He groaned once you rocked your pelvis on his thigh. The hand on your hair went down to your breasts. Pulling the fabric down to release your mounds. His lips moved to your tits, sucking it while molesting the other.

"Fuckin' heavenly tits." You heard him mumble under his breath. Making your cunt ache mucu more.

“Please Tom”. You whimpered. He postured himself up, leveling his face with yours. “Please what love?” He sneered. “Please please touch me.” You begged.

He crashed his lips into yours once again. Fondling with your tits made you moan. His hand moved down to your skirts, ruching it up to cup your cunt. He glides his fingers over your damp underwear. 

“Soaked for me huh? Only my cock can shut you up eh?” His kisses went down to your neck, just below your jaw, sucking on it enough to leave marks as he pulled your underwear down. “F-fuckin’ hell Tom!” You whimpered once he inserted two of his fingers. His thumb circles your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you. Your knees weaken at his actions. You looked at him, but he was already looking at you. Submissively staring into his eyes as you rock your cunt into his slender fingers.

“Want your cock in me Tom please.” Your pleads were enough to make him go feral. You shuddered at the emptiness when he pulled his fingers out of you. Fastly undoing his belt and zipper, his angry cock sprung free. He spat on his palm to lubricate his member. He hooked up your thigh on his arm and positioned his cock near your entrance. He leaned his face against yours and kissed you. You moaned once he entered you. He was big. He pulled away from the kiss to look at you. Months of dreaming about you, how your cunt tastes like, your body squirming beneath him, begging him for release. Tom was filled with ecstasy.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" You cried out as he harshly thrusted into your throbbing cunt. The door squeaking from the powerful thrusts. The pleasure making you vulnerable beneath him. Your moans corrupting him completely. Squeezing your bouncing tits.

“What a tight cunt you have eh? You'll let me cum in you love? Make me a dad? Hm? Want me to fill you up nice and round?” He thrusted harder. Making you lean back completely on the door, holding onto his shoulder for stability. Tom’s mind was hazy. All he could think about at this moment was how warm and tight your pussy is. His cock moulds your pussy to fit his. He placed both of his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock. Your fucked out state was enough for him. 

“Did he fuck you too? That bastard leaving my pretty girl desperate and heart broken?" He asked. Jealousy was evident in his voice. “A whore huh? You’re too tight to be a whore. You're enjoying my cock too much.” Tom snickered. His hard thrusts are consistent, making you moan his name repeatedly. You placed your hand on his nape to pull him in for a kiss. The angle makes your knees weak. You moan loudly as you fondle with your tits. The sight before Tom made him weak.

“I-i’m close Tom!” You exclaimed. His thumb circled your clit as he returned to your neck. 

“Cum for me my sweet.” He whispered in your ear, the endearment making you clench around his cock. You gasped aloud as you released, making Tom pull out. Tom wrapped his arms around you so he could catch your weakened body. You looked at him with hooded eyes. Tom tidies your shirt and skirt and gropes your backside after.

“Y-you haven’t cummed yet Tommy.” You spoke in a husky tone. Tom adored the new state he was witnessing right now. You were weak and all over him. He pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Who told you that we're finished? Upstairs now.” Those sentences are enough to make you hurry upstairs with Tom behind you. Both of you were glad that Mr. Bennett and Lois were away for a week. Tom was already thinking of ways he’s going to fuck you through the night, and hopefully to fuck out that bastard James out of your mind.

[mania-sama]

Trick or treat!!! 😁

hello, dear! welcome to my humble abode! dig into this bowl to get some candy… ah! you’ve got a fanfiction line explanation! a rare gem indeed.

this excerpt is from if you need me, dear, i’m the same as i was:

He’s on the court before Sakusa is. He’s across the net before Argentina can celebrate their victory. He’s grabbing Oikawa’s shoulders tightly before anybody else can get to him. Iwaizumi stares into his estranged best friend’s glassy, confused, uncomprehending eyes. He’s shaking Tooru’s shoulders, desperate as he yells: “You are having a heart attack!” And Hajime is fifteen and three-quarters, learning emergency CPR for his new part-time job as a lifeguard. He thinks that it could come in useful. He thinks that saving people isn’t a job he would mind. And Hajime is sixteen, watching Tooru recover from his surgery, and he realizes he will never play professional volleyball. He wants to help people like Tooru forever — people who want to dedicate their whole life to a sport but have a body that strives to prevent their goal every step of the way. He can’t do that as a player on the court. And Hajime is seventeen, trying to convince Tooru to eat a sandwich even though he is adamantly insisting he isn’t hungry. He discovers sports medicine isn’t just about the physical ills and pains. To be a good athletic trainer, he has to see every aspect of a player’s well-being, and that includes their mental health. And Hajime is eighteen, standing alone in the airport and experiencing loss for the first time. In order for Oikawa to grow as an athlete, he has to cut away the weed strangling his roots. Hajime lets him without complaint. This is part of his new career, after all; if he helps athletes succeed, they would all, one day, leave his medical care. And Hajime is twenty-seven, losing his best friend for a second time at the end of the first set of chest compressions. At least three ribs have cracked under his pace and pressure. He pinches Tooru’s nose, pries his jaw open, and breathes air into his lungs twice. His ring and pinky finger automatically find his pulse point. Nothing. Seeing that no medical equipment has arrived, he starts the second set of chest compressions. Oikawa’s bones creak and give way under his desperation. He knows CPR like the back of his hand; if the ribs are breaking, that means it’s working. It doesn’t get rid of the panic and pain at the thought of how much damage he’s doing to Oikawa’s body. The paramedics are a second too late with their LUCAS device at the end of the last compression. He dives down for another round of mouth-to-mouth, recognizing, faintly yet viscerally at the same time, that Oikawa’s soft skin is pale and rapidly cooling. At the junction between his neck and jaw, Iwaizumi searches for a heartbeat. Breathe. Nothing. Breathe. Nothing.

this entire segment, as i intended, is meant to be read completely out of breath, gasping and choking on every single word. it’s meant to feel like the world is rushing and crumbling around you. it’s meant to be read at the speed of lightning, each word cackling and breaking. the periods in the paragraphs are merely suggestions; every paragraph starts with an and because the last sentence, the last paragraph never really ended.

it’s meant to be, in all intents and purposes, to be one continuous run-on sentence. unfortunately, that would be rather bad form for me as a writer. i don’t have the skill to pull it off just yet.

when you get to the “breathe. nothing. breathe. nothing.” it’s not supposed to be a gentle breathe. it’s supposed to be a gasp, panicked and hurting and desperate. it’s a cry, a sob of pain. medically, he’s doing a very measured recovery breath to force oikawa’s lungs into the action of breathing. mentally, it’s everything but measured. the “nothing” is crying. the actual sob with tears. nothing! he is screaming, knowing that his best friend is fucking dead, but he is saying nothing as he dives into another breath.

it should be read, more accurately, as: “gasp. please, please. don’t leave.”

and this all really stems from the line directly before this excerpt:

“Holy shit,” Iwaizumi whispers, all of the air leaving his lungs.

everything just rushed out of him. he has nothing left. and then, the buzzer sounds with this:

Sixteen to fourteen. Team Argentina wins Olympic gold.

that’s the last line of clarity before everything shatters. literally, the sound breaks with the buzzer as the entire world falls away and rushes at the same time.

this is probably my favorite part of the entire fic, one of my favorite things that i have ever written to date. i put a lot of care into this. everything i wrote came from the heart, and i hope how i intended it to be read translated well.

[katiascraft]

˚⋆𐙚｡“Pueden más que el amor y son más fuertes que el Olimpo” | FC43𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚

Parings: franco colapinto x argentine!female!reader.

Sipnosis: Dating Franco Colapinto as an Argentine university student is like riding a rollercoaster with your best friend: exhilarating, unpredictable, and occasionally terrifying. And was also never part of her life plan, but somehow it feels like it was written in the stars—or perhaps on a chaotic karting track. From laughing at his chaotic personality to sharing mates in the pitlane, their relationship is a blend of silliness, deep connection, and shared Argentine pride.Their bond is a mix of unfiltered laughter, deep admiration, and that unmistakable Argentine fire. From awkward family dinners to heartfelt moments away from the spotlight, their chemistry shines in every interaction. Here’s how their love story unfolds, the chaos they bring to the F1 paddock, and why she’s become the favorite WAG for her wild energy that matches Franco’s unhinged antics.

Your bond is bigger than love and stronger than the Olympus. ᯓᡣ𐭩

Now playing: “11 y 6” by Fito Paez.

Word count: +3k.

Warnings: dialogues in Spanish but translated. Language. Argentinian slang. Just fluffy fluff I’m not good at writing smut but I guess I’ll have to try someday. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Face claim: Tuli Acosta.

Author’s note: okay i'm stuck with this trope. I AM SORRY NOT SORRY ACTUALLY. but i hope you like it and enjoy it <3. MAYBE it doesnt make any sence but IM TRYING. There will be mentions of artists/people from Argentina if you wanna look them up. Don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

A Bond Beyond Words

From the beginning, you instantly had this electric connection. At 16 years old everything is intense but not at this level you thought. It's an indescribable feeling. almost as if you were two magnets pulled together by fate. Franco, with his unshakable optimism and cheeky smile, is the perfect foil to your grounded but equally fiery personality. Growing up together since you were kids, realizing when he was gone in Italy how much you loved him, how traveling during the summer breaks was heartbreaking knowing you couldn't see him until the next recess of the year - 4 months in the future. And when you get to university it gets a little bit more tricky but you try to make it work. No one in the world was more than worthy of your sacrifice studying anywhere at any time just to spend even a few hours with him on the other side of the world.

One night, after a long day of university classes and Franco’s sim racing practice, you decide to call each other. Where he was, it was winter, where you were, it was still summer. He was freezing and you were too hot. When he answered you could see him getting cozy on his bed with the heat on and the hoodie you bought him at a Tan Bionica concert you attended last year. You loved that band. You wanted to cry in that moment of how much you missed him. When he saw you on the other side of the world, in your home, surrounded by books and the sunset illuminating your gorgeous face, he wanted to cry. He missed you like crazy. You looked so beautiful, he only thought about kissing your whole face. You were drinking mate and eating facturas while studying on your balcony in Buenos Aires city. He missed his country so much, especially you and his family. While talking about your days you see his sister in the background that has arrived from paddle practice. His little sister Martina joined the conversation. He felt so full at that moment. How natural it was for you to blend with his family. How deeply and vulnerable and intimate that was to him. He trusted you blindly.

“Sabes que?, [you know what?]” Franco says, getting comfy on his bed, a little sleepy, his voice deep, “yo sería un desastre en la facultad. Como haces para memorizar todo eso?” [i would be a disaster at university. How do you do to remember all that stuff?]

“Probablemente no soportarías ni cursar 2 horas en esta materia o en ninguna en realidad,” [probably you wouldnt last a day] you reply without looking up in a smirk. “Pero lo bueno es que no lo necesitas. Y además, estás demasiado ocupado manejando a más de 250 km por ahora así que” [but good thing is that you dont need to. You are too busy driving cars at 250km per hour so] you finally meet his gaze through the screen. You hear him giggle between his sheets and pillows. He looked so cute. You heart felt so happy and full in that moment. You couldn't be more in love with him.

“igual,” his voice softer, “Sos incredible amor. Like... verdaderamente increible. Que puedas balancear tu vida con el estudio y mi locura de agenda, mi terrible talento en la cocina—” you giggled at his comment flustered". [You are amazing love. The fact you can balance your life between my agends and your university schedule, and my terible talent for cooking-]

You interrupt, smirking. “Y terrible asador. Muy decepcionante la verdad. Esperemos que no se filtre a la prensa porque te van a cancelar por decepción a la patria.” [you are the worst at cooking barbecue. Very disappointing for this country]

He laughs, resting his head on the pillow wanting to rest it on your chest and give you a tight hug. Distance was absolute shit. He couldn't wait to see you again in 2 weeks in Las vegas. “Bueno bueno ya se entendió. Pero posta, no se como haces y/n. Tengo mucha suerte de que me ames y me elijas y me soportes.” [alright alright. But for real, I don’t know how you do it. I’m really lucky that you love me and choose me and that you keep up with me] His eyes were hearts and his smile was bright. You blushed by looking at him. You adjusted the laptop. “Te amo fran” you knew, and he knew what those words ment. “Y la verdad que es fácil soportar esto, Franco. Porque sos el amor de mi vida. No importa los malabares que tenga que hacer para que esto funcione. Se que vos harías lo mismo en mi lugar. Ya quiero verte. Que sigas persiguiendo tus sueños. Cómo podría no amarte amor? Te admiro muchísimo, loquito. Estoy muy pero muy muy orgullosa de vos. Me encanta verte brillar y ser feliz. No importa lo que tenga que hacer, lo haria mil veces más si puedo verte ser lo que siempre soñaste y ver como te brillan los ojitos de felicidad” [and ti be honest, it’s so easy to keep up with you. Because you’re the love of my life. It doesn’t matter how much juggling I have to do just to make this work. I know you would do the same for me. How could one not love you? I admire you so much. And im really proud of you. I love to see you shine and be happy. It doesn’t matter what I have to do. I would do it a thousand times if I can see you be the thing you dreamed about and see you shining]

“Te amo boluda, me haces llorar” [I love you, you make me cry] he said teary and even dropping a few tears making you giggled completely down for that man. But how could you not? He is the most amazing person you know.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername made a post

liked by francolapinto, landonorris, yourbff, marcolapinto, and others.

yourusername: me reporto desde el mundo universitario triste y lleno de estrés para decirles que estoy bien pero quisiera estar como franquito la verdad (te extraño mucho @/francolapinto 😭)

[here I report myself from the university world very sad and stressful to tell you I’m okay but I would really like to be like franco to be honest (I miss you so much franco)]

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francolapinto: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

francolapinto: no podes hacerme esto no ves que recién me levanto y ya estoy llorando otra vez 😭😭😭😭 lo que te extraño lpm [you can’t do this to me. Don’t you see I just woke up and I’m crying again? I miss you so much god]

↳ yourusername: fran 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

francolapinto: Veni dale no seas mala no hace falta que estudies yo te mantengo!! [come with me. Cmon don’t be mean. You don’t need to satisfy I can spoil you!!]

↳ yourusername: ya tuvimos esta conversación 🙄 [we already had this conversation]

↳ yourusername: déjame ser independiente así después soy yo la que sea millonaria en nuestra relación let me spoil you babygirl 🫦 [let me be independent. So I can be the millionaire one and spoil you baby girl]

↳ francolapinto: hace falta que me expongas públicamente????? Te recuerdo que tu Instagram es público!!?!?! [is it necessary that you expose me? Do I have to remind you your Instagram is public?]

↳ yourusername: upsi

marcolapinto: Venite a casa reinita que te cebo unos mates mientras escuchamos María. Dale que aprobas!!! 🕯️[come home queen that we will drink mate while listening to Maria becerra. You’re gonna do good!]

↳ yourusername: 🏃🏻‍♀️

user366: I must say you are GOALS wtf ur so pretty wtf wtf

user890: FRANCO CAN U FIGHT??????

anibalcolapinto: ❤️

landonorris: hola mujer bonita, cuando vuelves al paddock? Che boludo quiero un mate

↳ franstan: omg not again

↳ y/nstan: the no rizz guy is back

↳ francolapinto: DELETE THIS

↳ georgerussel: I’m sorry bro he just a kid

↳ francolapinto: kid las pelotas [he is not a kid]

lewishamilton: my fav couple

↳ yourusername: KABSKXOHWJSODNS WTF LEWIS TE AMO WTF WHAAATTTTTTTT

↳ francolapinto: conmigo nunca te emocionas así ????? [you never get this excited about me]

↳ yourusername: ACASO SOS 8 VECES CAMPEÓN DEL MUNDO??????? Y TE LLAMAS LEWIS HAMILTON?????? [are you an 8 time world champion called Lewis Hamilton?]

↳ maxveratappen: he is a 7 world champion

↳ yourusername: OMG MAX I DRINK RED BULL EVERYDAY 🧎🏻‍♀️

↳ francolapinto: I can’t take you out anywhere 🤦🏻‍♀️

landonorris: WHY I AM BEING IGNORED GHOSTED BURRIED ALIVE ??????

↳ oscarpiastri: bro

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Chemistry and Admiration

Their chemistry between you two is palpable, and it’s the kind that makes people stop and take notice. You don’t just laugh together— you challenge each other, push each other to be their best. And to be fair, that's what makes you both so obsessed with one another. The love you felt for each other was like a drug. 

At the Williams hospitality building, during practice days your older brother playfully teases Franco about a mistake he made during his last race.

“Boludo, que paso en la curva esa? Te dormiste para frenar. Cuando quieras te reemplazo, en los kartings siempre ganaba yo” [bro, what happened in that corner? You slept on breakers. Whenever you want I can replace you. I always used to win in go karts in our time, anyway] you rolled your eyes at his tease. He was the reason you met franco in the first place back in summer 2019.

Before Franco can reply, you jump in. “dejate de joder. No te das cuenta que la skills de pro se las reserva para ganarte al truco?” [fuck off. Don’t you realized that his pro skills are reserved to win you at truco?]

your brother laughs, but Franco takes your hand under the table, squeezing it. He was laughing as well. Your brother can be a pain in the ass sometimes. 

Later, when you were finally alone, he says, “gracias por cuidarme y defenderme incluso cuando la cago y merezco que tu hermano se cague de risa de mi en mi cara” [thanks for protecting me and defending me even when I fuck up and I deserve your brother making a joke out of me] he says funny and exaggerated. You laugh, shaking your head.

“Para eso estoy fran, la única que se puede meter con mi hombre soy yo misma” [that’s what I’m here for. Me and only me can joke around about my boyfriend] you reply teasing, making him giggle but bring you closer by your waist planting a kiss on your lips. “ a veces te odio” [sometimes I hate you] he joked in your lips making you giggle once more like all the time you are together. “creo que asi funciona, no?” [that’s how it works, right?] you told him to stroke his hair with your fingers wrapped in his arms. You looked at him innocently making him laugh and kissed your cheeks with a million little soft and full of love kisses.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

francolapinto made a post

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francolapinto: pese a algunos errores obtuvimos un gran resultado. Gracias a todos por bancar como lo hacen,están sorprendiendo al mundo! Orgulloso de ser de donde vengo 🇦🇷 momento de festejar y enfocarse en la siguiente carrera! Vamoooosss

[even tho we committed a few mistakes we got a solid result. Thank you everyone for the support, you are surprising the world with your passion! I’m so proud to come from where I come from. Time to celebrate and then focus on the next race. Let’s go!]

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yourusername: mi país mi país mi país 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

yourusername: podes parar de ser tan perfecto???? Dios lo que te amo 😍 [can you stop being so perfect? God I love you so much]

↳ francolapinto: vos sos perfecta mi amor te amo gracias por apoyarme y acompañarme siempre [you are perfect my love. Thank you for your support always]

↳ yourusername: siempre juntos [always together]

↳ francolapinto: siempre [always]

williamsracing: vamos franco!!! was a pleasure to have you @/yourusername !!

↳ yourusername: my pleasure!! You guys are so cool!! Next time we need to play some duki songs! You’ll love them!!! Great to work out!! Like a bad bitch!!! 🤪🥵

↳ williamsracing: 😳

↳ wandanara: you soy una bad bitch!!! Te adoro nena!!! [I am a bad bitch! I adore you girl!]

↳ yourusername: OMG WANDA TE AMO

↳ francolapinto: el crossover del año [the crossover of the year]

↳ yourbff: y vos porque no la estás escuchando gritar me voy a quedar sorda [you wouldn’t believe how loud she is screaming because of this. I will be deaf qny sec]

↳ francolapinto: she’s just a girl

↳ yourusername: girls just wanna have fun!!!!

dukissj: flow carbon el tuyo amigo [serving looks bro]

↳ francolapinto: gracias jefe aprendí de vos [thank you boos. I learned from you]

↳ dukissj: a ser el mejor de todos los tiempos? [to be the best one of all time?]

↳ francolapinto: a ser un novio gansta [to be his gangsta lover (Emilia mernes: novio gangsta)]

↳ yourusername: te amo mi novio gangsta 😍

↳ emiliamernes: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

↳ dukissj: 💀

landonorris: if I comment will I still be ignored?

↳ oscarpiastri: bro

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

University Chaos and Long-Distance Struggles

Franco is your biggest cheerleader just like you are of his. He always remembers your exam dates - you didnt know how but he did - always making sure to send you a good luck message and asking how it was whenever he can take his phone back after a really busy day at the simulator. Long distance is not easy at all but somehow you make it work. You know that when you two see each other again it will be all worth it. 

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername uploaded a story

[transcription: fisically here]

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francolapinto: mentalmente pensando en mi y en cómo te podría hacer sentir si no estuvieras del otro lado del mundo [mentally thinking about me and how I could make you feel if you wouldn’t be on the other side of the world]

yourusername: POR QUE TENES QUE HACERME ACORDAR DE ESO CON LO QUE TE EXTRAÑO FRANCO COLAPINTO [why do you have to do this to me knowing how much I miss you?]

francolapinto: definitivamente necesitas de mi magia para relajar, estás muy estrasada bb [definitely you need my magic to help you relax, you’re so stressed babe]

yourusername: te odio [I hate you]

francolapinto: 😇

francolapinto: cuando vengas tráeme 10 paquetes de don satur dulces y otras 10 saladas. Y pan dulce!!! Sin fruta y con chips de chocolate [when you fly here could you bring 10 packs of sweet don satur cookies and 10 salty ones? And brin pan dulce!! Without fruit I like it with chocolate chips]

francolapinto: NO ME DEJES EN VISTO FLACA [don’t leave on read girl]

yourusername: ESTOY ESTUDIANDO FLACO [im studying bro]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Chaos in the Paddock

When Franco made his way to F1, you became an instant hit among the other drivers and teams. Unlike the polished, camera-ready WAGs typically seen in the paddock, you're refreshingly candid, often seen wearing jeans and an oversized Boca Juniors or the Argentinian national team of football jersey. Your style was just relax and at some point not giving a fuck about royalty and money and status. You felt so much more beautiful with your vans on and baggy clothes. 

But you didn't only stand out because of your “so different” style. Reality was you were as unhinged as your boyfriend. You became the favorite WAG on the internet and the paddock as well. You were sweet to all of the fans and received all of the gifts for Franco you could take in your hands. Always sharing mates with everybody who wanted to join. Taking pics to social media and being hilarious roasting your boyfriend in front of the world. But that was just the way you showed love to each other. It was your code secret language. After the jokes vanish, only love remains between you two. Everyone was obsessed with your interviews just as any fan of the sport. People loved you because you read everything on social media regarding not only your boyfriends but the rest of the drivers. You became an f1 wag voggler on your instagram stories. 

All people at the paddock loved you. You were always there for everyone and anyone who needed a hand at anything. You liked to listen to people when they needed to. Franco knew he had the best comforting person in the world next to him and that made him feel really proud of himself. 

Also, you became a sensation when you started taking to races your pomeranian son called “polito”. You joined Alex and Kika at wags and mothers of dogs. You loved being part of the gang to be honest. 

All of the drivers' girlfriends were so welcoming and fun to be around. You always felt scared to not fit in his world or this world. You were a really private person but you pushed that aside the moment franco got into f1. You wanted nothing but supporting him and if that came along with being not so private anymore you’d take the risk anyway. And so far it worked out perfectly. You feel really comfortable with the life you have now. What scared you it didn't anymore. You were happy. 

One infamous moment happened during a race weekend. You were caught on camera yelling at Franco over team radio after he missed a breaking point in practice. Of course, it went viral.

“¡Qué hacés, boludo! Are you driving or playing Mario Kart?!” You were so competitive as well. You grew up watching and being involved in karting. You desperately wanted Franco to do more than good and that pressure and anxiety also made you iconic for people watching at home. 

The radio went silent before Franco’s sheepish voice replied, “Sorry, babe.”

The fans dubbed you the “Queen of Roasts.” Even Lando Norris couldn’t resist chiming in on media after the race:

“Franco, mate, you’re getting roasted harder than my starts.”

To which Franco replied teasing him, “At least I have someone to roast me, Lando.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername made a post

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yourusername: Era mi crush y ahora está conmigo, amor platónico. 'Toy robando, qué afortunada soy. Nunca tuve un novio tan hegemónico. Nadie me hace sentir esta satisfacción. Espero que mi padre nunca escuche esta canción 🎶

[he was my crush and now he’s with me. Platonic love. I’m really lucky I got him. I’ve never had such an hegemonic boyfriend. No one makes me feel this good and satisfied. Hope my dad doesn’t listen to this song]

tagged: dukissj, francolapinto

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emiliamernes: se juntaron nuestros novios gansta ‼️ [our gangsta boyfriends reunited!!]

francolapinto: yo te quiero presumir. nunca nadie me ha querido así 😍 desde que la conocí le cure la cicatriz por que ella es mi novia gansta 😍 [I want to show you off to all the world. No one ever loved me his way. Since I met her I healed her wounds because she is my gangsta girlfriend]

↳ yourusername: TE AMO

user752: omg OMG they are so cute 😭

User1: I must confess I don’t like her at all

user67: clout chaserrrrr zzzzzz

yourbff: que fácil me cambias por ese chiruzo 😔 [you replaced me so easily with that muppet]

↳ yourusername: nunca te cambiaría MI REAL [I would never you’re my real one]

↳ yourbff: nunca nadie te va a amar como yo [no one ever is gonna love you like I do]

↳ francolapinto: ??????? Queres que compitamos? [are you proposing a competition?]

↳ yourbff: como te gusta arruinar momentos felices 🙄 [how you love to ruin good moments]

↳ francolapinto: ya perdiste xd [okay, you already lost]

mariabeccera: con lo que te quiero diría que VOS sos la verdadera NENA DE ARGENTINA bonita [in my opinion you are the real it girl of argentina, babygirl. I love you]

↳ yourusername: dm asap

↳ francolapinto: inviten [invite me]

↳ rei: 🤨

bizarrap: el príncipe y la princesa de argentina 🇦🇷 [the prince and princess of argentina]

↳ yourusername: te amamos gonza ❤️‍🩹

y/nstan: where’s the no rizz at all guy?

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Other Drivers Weigh In

The F1 grid is both entertained and baffled by your relationship. Max Verstappen once remarked, “They’re like a Netflix comedy special. You can’t take your eyes off them.” in one interview. You became the sensation of formula one. It was odd but you followed along just having fun with it.

Charles Leclerc added in his interview after qualifying, “She’s the only person who can keep up with Franco’s energy. Honestly, she’s scarier than his driving.” making the reporter laugh.

Meanwhile, George Russel took every opportunity to tease them. After one race where Franco crashed out, G joked, “Bet she’s gonna give him a lecture in the paddock. Poor kid’s already sweating.”

Yeah we can say you were really passionate and Franco absolutely adored it. 

In another race Oscar Piastri was asked about you as well “well, she is a really good teacher to be honest it's really nice to have her around”

“What did she teach you, oscar?”

“Che boludo, me das un mate? I don't remember what it actually means but something around mate” his accent made the interviewer laugh. Franco, who was being interviewed next to him, laughed so hard. 

“It sounded amazing mate. I will tell y/n to congratulate you” he teased making oscar roll his eyes. 

“And they are both a pain in the ass,” Lando said, coming out of nowhere on Oscar's mic, making everyone laugh.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Family Dynamics

Your families are an integral part of your relationship, and it’s clear that love and respect flow both ways.

Your parents were skeptical at first. A racing driver? That lives on the other side of the world? Really? But Franco won them over the first time he showed up at their house with flowers for your mom and a bottle of wine for your dad. He even attempted to join in on their family’s Sunday asado tradition—though his lack of grilling skills became a running joke.

“A esto le llamas asado?!” [this is what you call barbecue?] your father had laughed, shaking his head as Franco sheepishly handed over the tongs.

“Okay, okay, me dedicare solamente a correr, ya entendi!” [alright, I’ll stick to racing I got it] Franco replied, earning laughter from the whole family.

On the flip side, you’ve become a favorite among Franco’s family. His mom adores you, often calling to check in on your studies or sending care packages from home. His younger sister thinks you’re the coolest person alive and is always pestering you for fashion advice.

“creo que tu mama me ama mas que a vos”, [ I think your mom loves me more than she does love you] you tease one evening.

Franco grins, wrapping an arm around you. “No la culpo. Es impossible no amarte la verdad. Mira esa carita” [I don’t blame her. It’s impossible not to love you. Look at that pretty face] he said grabbing your face and squiz your cheeks playfully.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

francolapinto made a post

liked by yourusername, sangrejaponesa, bocajuniors, and others.

francolapinto: argentina, boca y mi mujer pero en el orden inverso 😇

[argentina, boca and my woman but the other way round]

tagged: yourusername, bocajuniors

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bocajuniors: gracias por venir franco! Te esperamos de vuelta! Vamos piloto! 🫡 [thank you for coming franco! We wait for you to come back! Let’s go!]

yourusername: 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

yourusername: BOCAAAAA BOCAAAAAAA

user34: que hace la china acá???? 🚩🚩🚩🚩 [what is la china Suarez doing here??]

user54: que suerte que tiene esta mina [how lucky she is]

landostan: BEST WAG TO EVER EXIST

cavani: franquito te esperamos!!! Dale campeón!! [franco come back!! Let’s go champion!]

↳ francolapinto: LPM TE AMO

↳ yourusername: gracias por cumplirle el sueño al nene 🥹 [thank you for making the kid’s dream come true]

la12: chifla que te pasamos a buscar!

↳ yourusername: 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

↳ francolapinto: 🙃

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

yourusername uploaded a story

[transcription: he doesn’t like his smile but for me it’s the most beautiful smile in the world]

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francolapinto: boluda me haces llorar 😭 no me quiero ir mañana lpm te voy a extrañar muchísimo [baby you make me cry. I don’t wanna go tomorrow I will miss you so freaking much]

francolapinto: vos para mi sos la más hermosa del mundo [to me you’re the most beautiful girl in the world]

francolapinto: te acordas cuando me traías flores para cuando ganara las carreras? 🥹 sos la más linda del mundo. Siempre fuiste la más linda del mundo para mi [do you remember how you always brought flowers for me at the race kart just in case I won? You’re the prettiest]

francolapinto: podes salir de la clase y venir a darme un abrazo? Estoy sensible [ can you get out of that zoom meeting and come and give me a hug?? I’m sensitive]

francolapinto: te amo mucho [I love you so much]

francolapinto: TE NECESITO MI MUJER 😭 [I need you my girl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Moments of Quiet Connection

Behind the loud laughs and teasing, there’s a deep, quiet love that anchors your relationship.

After a particularly tough race weekend where Franco didn’t finish, he’s unusually quiet. Back in your hotel room, you find him sitting on the bed, staring at the floor.

“Hey,” you say softly, sitting beside him. “Queres hablar, Fran?” [do you wanna talk?]

He sighs. “Siento que decepcioné a todos. Al equipo, a los fans… a vos” [I feel I let everyone down. The team, the fans… you] his voice shaky and his eyes teary.

you take his hand, squeezing it. “Franco, no decepcionaste a nadie. Y Menos que menos a mi Fran. Está bien equivocarse y tener días de mierda. No siempre se puede ganar y hacer todo bien. Es mejor darse contra la pared mil veces que ganar siempre. Lo que paso hoy solo te va a hacer más fuerte. No te presiones, ser perfecto es aburrido. Ya vendran dias mejores. El talento está en vos y eso es todo lo que importa, si?” [franco you didn’t let anyone down. It’s okay to commit mistakes and have shitty days. It’s not about winning all the time and be perfect. Better is to lose so you can learn from it and keep growing. I know the better days will come. You have talent and that’s all that matters okay? You’re good my love]

He looks at you, his eyes glassy more than before. “Solo quiero que se sientan orgullosos de mí. Que te sientas orgullosa de mi, no quiero decepcionarte” [I just really want them to feel proud of me. I want you to be proud of me, I don’t wanna let you down]

“Amor, estoy mas que orgullosa de vos, no digas eso” you say, voice steady. “Desde el momento uno. Todos los días de mi vida. Me explota el corazón de orgullo por vos franco. ¿Viste dónde estás? Este es tu sueño y lo lograste. No hay sentimiento mas grande que sienta que el que siento cuando te veo en ese auto. Cada vez que te pones ese traje y tu nombre sale en la pantalla. No tenes idea de lo orgullosa que estoy de vos y de lo que te admiro y te amo” [babe, I’m more than proud of you. Since day one. Have you seen where you at now? This was you’re dream and now it’s your reality. There’s not a bigger feeling in me than the one I feel every time I see you get in that car and drive, every time you fit yourself in your suit. You don’t really know how proud I am of you and how much I admire you and love you fran] his face now with tears. His arms wrap around you in a tight hug hiding his face in your neck looking for comfort that you gave for sure.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

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francolapinto: feliz cumpleaños a la persona más hermosa que la vida me presento. Gracias por existir y encargarte de hacerme el hombre más feliz del mundo, cuidarme y asegurarte de que estoy bien. Gracias por apoyarme en esta locura de carrera que elegí. Gracias por entender y no juzgarme, por escucharme y limpiarme los mocos cuando lo necesite. Por ser tan empatica y amorosa. Nunca dejes de ser quien sos y de brillar más que el sol. El mundo tiene mucha suerte de conocerte, de que hayas nacido, de que ames como amas. Gracias por ser la mejor mamá que nuestro hijo polito podría tener jamás. Para mi sos la mejor del mundo. Tu calidad humana supera cualquier estándar. Te amo con todo mi corazón y/n. Espero que tengas un día lleno de amor y risas. Y que te den los mil abrazos que yo muero por darte pero no puedo. Gracias por aceptar las bases y condiciones de mi vida y aun así hacer que lo difícil parezca tan fácil. Gracias por subirte a cada avión y estudiar en los hospitalities. Gracias por las flores que me llevas desde que nos conocemos. Quiero que seas la más feliz del mundo porque es lo minimo que te mereces. Gracias por ser lo amorosa que sos con toda mi familia, con mis amigos, con cualquier persona que se te acerque. Sos increíble. Te amo te amo te amo te amo. Ya quiero abrazarte. Prontito nos veremos mi amor. Feliz cumple

[happy birthday to the most beautiful person life brought me. Thank you for existing and taking care to make me feel the luckiest man alive, looking after me and make sure I’m okay. Thank you for supporting me in my crazy career. Thank you for understanding and not judging, for listening and be the shoulder to cry on. Thank you for your compassion, sympathy and warmness. Don’t ever stop being so you and shining more than the sun. The world is really lucky to have you in it. We are all so lucky you were created, born, and by the way you love. Thank you for being the best mum our son polito could ask for. To me you are the best in the world. You human quality as a person breaks any standar. I love you with my whole heart y/n. Hope you have a great day filled with love and laughter and the million hugs I’m dying to give you but I can’t. Thank you for accepting me and making the longs distance shit be so easy. Thank you for the flowers you always bring for me. I want you to be the happiest in the world because that’s the minimum you deserve. Thank you for being so lovely with my family and friends and any person that meets you. You are magical. I love you. I want to hug you so bad. We will meet soon again my love. Happy bday]

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yourusername: FLACO 😭 lo que te amo no lo puedo ni expresar. Gracias por amarme como lo haces. Con vos soy la mas feliz del mundo ❤️‍🩹 [I can’t not even express how much I love you. Thank you for loving me the way you do. With you I’m the happiest in the world]

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‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

How Franco Talks About Her

Franco is unabashedly in love, and it shows in how he talks about you —whether it’s to his family, teammates, or the press.

During a team dinner, his engineer jokes, “How does she even deal with you, Franco?”

Franco grins, not missing a beat. “She’s the only person who can out-chaos me. And trust me, that’s saying something.”

In interviews, his admiration for her is evident.

“She’s my anchor,” he says, his voice tinged with pride. “I can have the worst day on the track, and she’ll find a way to make me laugh or remind me why I love racing. And the way she balances her own goals? It’s inspiring. I don’t know how she does it, but she makes me want to be better—on and off the track.”

Everyone was in love with him. But fortunately, he was only yours.

And you were the best team of the paddok.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

The Future

Though your lives are hectic, you’re already dreaming of the future. Over mate on a quiet Sunday morning back in argentina, Franco muses, “un dia, cuando todo esté sentado, me encantaría quetengamos una casita acá cerca de mis papás y tus papás. Para estar tranquilos. Podriamos darle un hermanito a polito tambien. qué te parece?” [one day, when everything it’s already settled, I would love to have a house here close to our parents. You know, a place where we can relax and be ourself, what do you think?]

You look at him, your heart swelling and smiling widley. “Obvio que sí. Pero yo decoro, tu depto si no fuera por mi podria ser una sala de enfermeria” you tease. [of course I would love to. But I will take care of designing and decorating because if it wasn’t for me your apartment could be a nurse room]

“dale,” he says, grinning. [deal]

Your love is a testament to the beauty of finding someone who matches your energy, celebrates your victories, and holds your hand through the challenges. For Franco and you, life isn’t about the finish line—it’s about enjoying every chaotic, beautiful lap together.

Your love is bigger than love itself and stronger than the olympus and everyone could see it.

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hope you liked it guys! if you have any ideas just send them straight into my inbox! thanks for reading. Feedback is always very welcome!

mwak mwak mwak 💌 -cate

[ampersandbastille]

as someone who used to be a (mostly) one direction blog (and a liam girlie back in the day) i am understandably not doing well.

i haven’t been posting anything related to it because frankly, i have been grieving. seeing him and all the beautiful tributes make me cry, the awful realities of what happened make me cry, seeing his dad and paul in argentina makes me cry, having old friends reach out to me and check on me. seeing the boys’ posts, their families, etc. and then…i opened twitter to the leaked photos of, well, his d*** body (don’t even get me started on my absolute anger and disgust over that entire situation, i am very genuinely traumatized and will be talking through it in therapy this week). i cannot express in words how much and how many feelings i’ve felt the last handful of days. my hope is to reblog posts related to the statements from folks, some of my old posts, and just in general the wave of positivity that i’ve been seeing on here since it happened.

if you scroll back enough in my blog, i was defending liam way back during the 1d days, because there were always times liam wasn’t treated fairly. i’d like to mention, it should go without saying that certain situations with liam in the last few years were not situations i was okay with defending, and instead welcomed the apologies he’d give and NEVER ever took part in the dogpiling and bullying. criticism, concern, and respectful discourse, sure. the apologies weren’t mine to accept though, and i genuinely just welcomed them in hopes he could conquer the struggles he faced so publicly. i was rooting for him to get the help and support in his personal life that he needed and deserved. addiction and mental health are not issues so easily helped. it is heartbreaking. none of us can ever know the worst or in fact the best of him…we weren’t in his life and we didn’t know him.

that being said, i have absolutely no interest in discussing those matters here. i respect everyone’s opinions on those fronts and how they feel. it truly is complicated. all i would like to say is that here on this blog, i want to at least have a moment to briefly remember the parts of my life that one direction greatly improved: giving me friends for life, memories i hold dear, strength and solace during dark times, unbridled joy, community, and etc. etc.

anyone who needs someone to talk to, i am here. this community has been nothing short of chaotic over the years, but the love and care has always shone through, and those who were there just get it. we always wanted to protect the boys and i know they know that we have always wanted the very best for them. liam loved one direction the way all of us did, and he flat out showed up for and supported his brothers in their solo endeavors. he loved the music, the joy, the shows, the fun, US, and all the good parts of one direction. and that’s what i will keep reminding myself as i continue figuring out how to grieve.

long live one direction.

≫≫≫≫≫

[gaybananabread]

I'd like Carmen Sandiego, with Carmen and Shadowsan for Days #13 and #22 . If you could include a character death and some angst of sorts in one or both of these it would be great! Please have fun! Ty! 💗🩷💖

TickleTober Day 13 - Win

~Fuuuuuudge, angsty request =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) There was no way I could handle writing one of the main babies dying, but I did get in some sort of death. There’s definitely angst in there for you, though. The TT day is very loosely woven in, but it’s there. I’ll be sure to tag you when Day 22 is posted. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Carmen Sandiego

Ler: Shadowsan

Summary: After a less-than-ideal conclusion to a caper, Carmen is in need of some comfort. Shadowsan does his best to help, bringing back an effective method almost as old as he is.

Warnings: background character death, lots of angst! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Carmen raced through the rooftops on the edge of Rosario, Argentina, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Each step brought the sound of his voice back to her ears.

“¡Señora!”

She wasn’t fast enough.

“¡Señora!”

She should’ve been there, should've stopped the shot.

“¡Señora!”

She could’ve saved him.

“¡Señora!”

She could’ve-

“Carmen!”

The redhead gasped as she was yanked back from the edge of the building. Even with her training, she could never clear a jump like that.

“I…sorry.” Carmen was out of breath, panting both from the run and her increasing panic. She was stuck in her own head with no clear way out.

“We can slow down from here. We’ve left their jurisdiction, and VILE is not known to pursue when risk is involved.” Shadowsan’s level, base-sounding voice pulled her momentarily from her thoughts. Right. They’d been running from the police – not her guilty conscience.

“Right. Slowing down.” Backing away from the ledge, she checked her phone. Player had sent her directions to their plane; they had around three hours to get there, which was far more than enough time. “Airport?”

“We have time. I would like to talk first.” The noble ninja sat on the roof, waiting for her to join. His gaze let her know a discussion wasn’t up for debate.

“Talk? About what?” Carmen sat across from him, leaving a healthy foot between them. The older man wasn’t always in the mood for contact.

“About tonight’s…misfortune.”

Carmen’s body went rigid at the mention of it, though she tried to play it off with a cough. Of course he’d wanna talk about that…

“Are you alright, Carmen? I know how you feel about death. This…” Shadowsan paused, searching for the words to convey his thoughts. He needed to console her. “It was not your fault.”

Feeling her eyes begin to sting, Carmen held her breath; she couldn’t cry. There was no point in it.

“We won. We got the artifacts. That’s what-... It was a success.” She needed to get away, run from this. La femme rouge stood, already prepping her glider.

A strong hand clamped on her shoulder, stopping her from fleeing. “Carmen, please. We both know this is bothering you. If you would just-”

“An innocent man died, Shadowsan!” Her voice was mortifyingly shaky as she shouted. “He died, and I couldn’t stop it! I…I failed.”

As the tears finally spilled over, Shadowsan stepped forwards, wrapping her in a strong, secure embrace. He wasn’t used to seeing her upset in any sense of the word, aside from anger; he wanted to help.

“It’s alright, Carmen. There was nothing you could have done.” The man ran a hand up and down her back, trying his best to console her. He really wasn’t great with emotions, but he was trying.

“The operative was apprehended by law enforcement. With the…uncommon charge, they will not slip away so easily.”

She knew he was right. The operative was yards away from her, and the man had come out of nowhere. It wasn’t her fault the operative had chosen violence, though it definitely felt like it. It was hard to get past that guilt.

“What if he has- had a family? What if…how would they support themselves?”

“You have funds, do you not? I am sure any family would appreciate a boost. Player can wire them in.” Shadowsan did his best to reason with her. He wasn’t lying; they could absolutely provide any financial support necessary. It was just hard to accept that there was nothing they could do to truly fix what happened.

“I know, but…” Carmen sighed, allowing herself to lean into Shadowsan’s embrace. She was so tired of failing. Even when they won, they lost. “It’s just hard to think about. I’m tired of feeling so…helpless, when it comes to Vile.”

“Would you like me to…cheer you up?” The words felt awkward leaving his mouth, but he was trying. Shadowsan thought back to her early days at the academy, thinking of how Coach and the tutors would get her out of a rotten mood. It could work…probably.

“I guess? I’m not sure if that’s possible, teach.” She tried to lighten the depressing words with a joking tone, but it didn’t help much. She just wanted to feel lighter, though some burdens were unfortunately unliftable.

Shadowsan’s hands settled on her sides, making the redhead quirk a brow. “What’re you- kshh!”

Carmen bit her lip, wiggling in Shadowsan’s arms as his nimble fingers gently pressed into her sides. It was just firm enough to tickle, sending the long-forgotten sensation buzzing through her nerves. Of all the things Shadowsan could’ve done, tickling was the last thing she expected.

“I remember you liking this as a child. It would get you out of your little moods.” Shadowsan tried to tease, though he wasn’t very good at it. He’d witnessed Ivy using the method to take Zack down a few pegs; she was a master with the teases.

“I-I guess, but- mmph! Shadowsahan!” Carmen tried her best not to giggle or laugh, but it was awfully difficult. Years without the feeling had left her vulnerable and weak to it. It was probably the one thing her endurance training didn’t cover.

“There was one spot that always made you squeal. I think it was…” He hummed before moving his hands up, kneading the area right beneath her underarms. “Here.”

Carmen did indeed squeal, making her face burn as brightly as her coat. The red hue blended with her rakuda-brown skin, making a lovely cedar color. Since squirming away wasn’t an option, she just pressed into him, muffling her laughter in his shoulder.

“SH-SHAHADOhohowsahan!! Thihis ihis chihihildish!” Carmen practically whined, sounding almost nothing like herself. It had been so long since she’d been tickled; her more kiddish side finally came out after years of being repressed.

“Sometimes, childish things are exactly what we need to feel whole.” Shadowsan only kind of knew what he was talking about. His emotional wisdom was mainly conjecture, but it felt right. Carmen deserved some thoughtless fun.

“Thahat dohohoesn’t mahake any- NOHOHOHO!” Carmen arched her back when his hands traveled, landing in her underarms. It was – embarrassingly – her worst spot. She’d never really gotten over her sensitivity there, even after all of the Coach’s maternal teasing.

“Oh? Is this a bad spot?” Shadowsan felt silly saying it, but he had to admit: it was rather fun. Carmen almost never laughed like that around him, possibly not even around her friends. As her…well, as whatever complicated family role he’d been assigned, he felt it was his job to make her laugh again.

Carmen could feel her knees getting weak, her intellectual mind drawing a blank; she couldn’t think of anything with the tickles occupying her thoughts. It was completely foreign to her, but…wasn’t unpleasant.

Eventually, she did feel her cheeks start to ache from all the wide smiling and laughter. Carmen tugged at her mentor’s wafuku, hoping he’d take it as a sign of her surrender.

He did, thankfully, stopping the tickles to instead hold her. Carmen just sagged against his frame, giggling off the endorphins in her system.

“Thahat was…unexpected.” Carmen sounded strangely giddy as she spoke, unable to stop the happiness from bleeding into her tone. “But it worked. Thanks, Shadowsan.”

The older man just chuckled, patting her back twice before pulling away. He knew that his actions hadn’t fixed the tragedy of the night, but he’d helped Carmen cope. The next step was finding out if there was any family and making sure the artifact was returned to ACME. For the time being, however, they were allowed to feel light and happy.

“You are welcome, Carmen. Now, I believe we have a plane to catch.”

[heavens-angels]

Oops, she let it go

A secret fan, but her boyfriend plays for a mentioned rival team. Can she keep her facade when the team she swoons for wins infront her boyfriend?

Type : Mini story (fluff)

A/n : First time writing here, please be gentle 🥲 Also lmk if yall want some more stuff like this. Cliche fluffy story btw, read at your own will. Enjoy! Its not perfect i know, but give me a break never wrote fluffy shit before fml. ALSO CONGRATS ARGENTINA I LOVE YOU BB.

She had been a fan of Argentina since she was a little girl. Well she got introduced to being a fan because her father was a die hard himself, but she truly enjoyed watching Argentina. Especially, magical Messi. Her magical Messi.

She was sobbing, looking at the tv and see Messi kiss the golden ball as he achieved an award of his own. What a beautiful sight, and what a tight match. Her heart was outside her chest the whole time.

Her boyfriend on the other hand stared at her, amused and impressed of her loyalty. They met in her working place, her being an English speaking assistant to someone who works under her boyfriend. A long chain of hierarchy if you will.

“Bebe.. you know your boyfriend play for Brazil right?” He asks her.

She looks at him, mascara all over her face and nose and cheeks tinted pink from crying so much. “Umm yes I’m not stupid.” She tried to put out an understandable sentence as she huffs for air.

His confused eyes went away as he smiles, bringing her closer to him. He put her head on his chest and she feels comforted as his warmth from his hand on her head soothes the ache from crying too much. “Ayay, you always shock me amor.”

“I know how this looks, but I swear I love you. But Argentin_” and she can’t complete the sentence because she starts crying even harder.

He brings her closer and kisses her head whilst trying to hold in his laughter but oh man what a sight this was.

“Okay next time remind me to bring you Messi jersey and not mine.”

She looks at him with big old guilty eyes, “No neymar! I support you, I love you! But Arge-” And the water works just got bigger.

He laughs out loud this time, he was having a great time teasing her, borderline bullying her.

“Ney I promise I prayed for you and Brazil. I even acted like I didn’t care for Argentina, but today all the memories from childhood came back t-to my head and I can’t stop thinking of this win. I wanted this for soooo long.”

Neymar listened to her intently, not understanding a few words, but understanding her love was enough. It was true though, she gave no reaction for Argentina for their matches. Never bothered to look at Messi whenever he and Neymar were together, tried gaslighting herself even. That it looks odd to anyone, her boyfriend PLAYS for Brazil, but she supports Argentina, a rival team. But why would she have to throw away her love for one thing for another, is it that impossible to love both?

Neymar was understanding, and someone very caring, so he tried his best to support her. He even took a secret picture of her that he definitely was going to send to Messi later, he’ll prank her for sure.

She covered her face, embarrassed, supporting the opposing team, a rival team, him finding out this way, him losing a few days prior, and her facade coming undone, ugh, it just didn’t feel right.

She looks up to tell him something when she sees him smiling down at her, eyes gloomy from his eye smile, lips parted and pink, and damn his beauty all over. She blushes instantly. God this was not the time. So she snaps herself out of his trance.

“Ney.. don’t think I take you or supporting you as a joke okay? This is just a childhood thing.” She speaks slowly so that he can understand every word. He smiles even deeper.

“(Y/n/n). It’s okay. Loving me is not equals to loving Brazil, yeah? Infact, it’s good that you are supporting Argentina. Means next time I will play to win your love to Brazil, means I play extra hard, and I will win.”

Her little sobs fade away as she hears him say something so sweet, and proud he could explain something so heart felt with such little words. Just hearing it can swoon anyone.

This time she puts her hand on his face, kissing his cheeks slowly, feeling his long lashes bat against her cheeks. “I will always support you, win or lose. No matter where you are, or where you go. I am here, for you.”

He pulls her in, pecking her with soft motions to calm her down. “Te amo, princess.”

She laughs hearing such cliche sweet words, “I love you too, king without a crown.”