#💙💙💙💙 i mean every word

[sherryholmes]

hi I just wanna drop in to say that your tags on our just. That was such a nice thing to wake up to thank u ;-;

Hello! 💘💘

The way my jaw DROPPED when I saw the art! Absolutely amazing, I love everything about it, especially the skin and hair!

The way I can feel the love for Cara... not only in this particular piece but the other too, I am mesmerised...

I will definitely be lurking at the art since I finally decided to try digital drawing 👀.

Sending lots of hugs and kisses! 💙

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

For some reason my brain won't take an answer of that maybe there's no rhyme or reason to why I am so messed up over. Gestures to who I've been posting about. And keeps trying to rack for reasons for why and. One of the thoughts was how some people say that you like/fall in love with whatever you want/need right now. Like if you are feeling low or insignificant you might fall for a character with power or one that is really sappy, if you have financial security problems you might fall for a character that has money, if you need a break from everything you might fall for a silly character, if you're really bad at putting your foot down or get used then you might fall for a more stoic firm character, etc., etc.,.

And that still doesn't answer my question for Strangeglove.

At least I have a free day tomorrow. Another 24 hours to submit over to. The takeover in my brain.

[meetsaja]

I’m Saja from Gaza… and this is my story under war

My name is Saja. I’m a woman from Gaza, married, and a mother to a little girl who still doesn’t understand why we don’t have bread or why we live in constant darkness. I used to study online, hoping to build a better future for my family. But the war has taken that away. The internet is gone. Electricity is unstable. And now, even food has started disappearing from our homes.

Flour is incredibly scarce, and prices are unbelievably high. We wait in long lines, hoping for just a small bag of flour—and often leave with nothing. Everything has become a struggle… even the simplest things: bread, clean water, and safety.

We try to stay strong, to hold onto the little we have, but life in Gaza today needs a miracle.

I write these words with a heavy heart—not seeking pity, but because I truly need your help. I just want to continue my education, provide food for my daughter, and protect the little hope I have left.

Your presence, your support—even a kind word—means the world to us. Every donation, every share, every prayer makes a real difference in my life.

💔 Donation & Support Link:

🙏 Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who sees us, supports us, or simply prays for us. You are our only light in this darkness. 💙

[saja-23]

I’m Saja from Gaza… and this is my story under war

My name is Saja. I’m a woman from Gaza, married, and a mother to a little girl who still doesn’t understand why we don’t have bread or why we live in constant darkness. I used to study online, hoping to build a better future for my family. But the war has taken that away. The internet is gone. Electricity is unstable. And now, even food has started disappearing from our homes.

Flour is incredibly scarce, and prices are unbelievably high. We wait in long lines, hoping for just a small bag of flour—and often leave with nothing. Everything has become a struggle… even the simplest things: bread, clean water, and safety.

We try to stay strong, to hold onto the little we have, but life in Gaza today needs a miracle.

I write these words with a heavy heart—not seeking pity, but because I truly need your help. I just want to continue my education, provide food for my daughter, and protect the little hope I have left.

Your presence, your support—even a kind word—means the world to us. Every donation, every share, every prayer makes a real difference in my life.

💔 Donation & Support Link:

🙏 Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who sees us, supports us, or simply prays for us. You are our only light in this darkness. 💙

[familysaja]

I’m Saja from Gaza… and this is my story under war

My name is Saja. I’m a woman from Gaza, married, and a mother to a little girl who still doesn’t understand why we don’t have bread or why we live in constant darkness. I used to study online, hoping to build a better future for my family. But the war has taken that away. The internet is gone. Electricity is unstable. And now, even food has started disappearing from our homes.

Flour is incredibly scarce, and prices are unbelievably high. We wait in long lines, hoping for just a small bag of flour—and often leave with nothing. Everything has become a struggle… even the simplest things: bread, clean water, and safety.

We try to stay strong, to hold onto the little we have, but life in Gaza today needs a miracle.

I write these words with a heavy heart—not seeking pity, but because I truly need your help. I just want to continue my education, provide food for my daughter, and protect the little hope I have left.

Your presence, your support—even a kind word—means the world to us. Every donation, every share, every prayer makes a real difference in my life.

💔 Donation & Support Link:

🙏 Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who sees us, supports us, or simply prays for us. You are our only light in this darkness. 💙

[amirasainz]

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💙

Her protector

Carlos had always believed that there was nothing in the world more important than the safety and happiness of the woman he adored. Yn, his beautiful, elegant wife, was the very center of his world, and he would do anything to keep her by his side, safe and loved.

It had been a quiet morning in Madrid. The city buzzed with its usual energy, but inside the mansion Carlos had gifted Yn after proposing to her, everything was calm. The sprawling estate had been more than enough to give them both peace. Security was tight — cameras, guards, and walls that could withstand any force that dared to try and breach their sanctuary.

Today, however, Carlos had decided that a little indulgence for Yn was in order. After breakfast, a lavish meal prepared by the mansion’s personal chef, they had made their way to the shopping district of Madrid. Yn’s eyes sparkled when she saw the designer stores — the luxurious brands she had always loved. She squeezed Carlos’s hand, a smile lighting up her face, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for her.

“You look stunning, as always,” Carlos murmured as they walked through the bustling streets. His voice was low and rich with adoration, but the protective tone lingered underneath.

Yn chuckled, the sound like a melody to his ears. “Stop it, cariño. You’re making me blush.”

He grinned. “You should blush. You're a work of art, mi amor. You deserve to be spoiled.”

And spoil her he did. They visited every boutique, and Carlos had his men stationed outside, watching over them. Inside the stores, security guards positioned themselves discreetly, ensuring nothing would threaten the peace of their little outing. No one could harm her — not while Carlos was around.

Yn tried on various outfits, each one more beautiful than the last, and Carlos sat comfortably on a plush velvet sofa, enjoying the view. His dark eyes never strayed from her. She was the most exquisite thing in the world to him. He loved how she looked in everything she wore, but especially in the clothes he picked out for her. They made her shine, and he wanted the world to see that.

“Carlos,” Yn called, emerging from the fitting room in a soft lavender dress that draped elegantly over her figure. “What do you think?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of her. The fabric clung to her curves in all the right ways, and the soft color brought out the brightness of her skin and eyes. “Perfection,” he replied, his voice thick with approval. “It was made for you.”

The shop assistant smiled, clearly eager to please. “I think this one is perfect for you, señora,” she said.

Yn smiled back, clearly pleased with the compliment. “I’ll take it,” she said, before slipping back into the dressing room to change.

Carlos leaned back against the cushions, his gaze still fixed on the door. He was surrounded by his men, who were positioned throughout the shop. Though he trusted them implicitly, his attention was always with Yn. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not even for a second.

It was all about control for Carlos. His empire, his wealth, and his reputation were built on power, influence, and intimidation. He was the most powerful Mafia boss in all of Europe, a man whose name sent shivers down the spines of anyone who dared cross him. Yet, when it came to Yn, all that power meant nothing. She was the one he cherished, the one he would go to any lengths to protect.

Carlos had made it clear from the beginning: his love for her was fierce, and he would destroy anyone who thought of hurting her. She was his queen, and nothing — not even the world’s most dangerous enemies — would ever come between them.

Yn returned to him with a small bundle of bags, her face glowing with happiness. “Thank you for today, cariño,” she said, the words soft but full of meaning.

Carlos smiled, his gaze softening as he stood to meet her. “Anything for you, mi amor. You are the light of my life. Let’s go home, alright?”

They exited the store, walking side by side, but something felt… off. The hair on the back of Carlos’s neck stood up, his instincts kicking into overdrive. He glanced around, noting that several of his men were now positioned at key points, all alert. The streets of Madrid were busy, but the quiet hum of activity felt wrong to him today.

He moved closer to Yn, his arm slipping around her waist protectively. “Stay close, amor,” he murmured, his voice low but commanding.

Yn glanced up at him, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

Carlos didn’t answer right away, his eyes scanning the surroundings carefully. Then it happened. A single shot rang out — loud, piercing — breaking the calm like a thunderclap.

Without a second thought, Carlos grabbed Yn, pulling her into his chest. His body shielded her as he spun them around, pressing her back against the stone wall of the building beside them. His hands moved quickly, steadying her as he dropped to one knee, protecting her as best as he could.

“Stay down, mi reina,” he whispered fiercely, his voice a mixture of fear and determination.

Yn, heart pounding, clung to him as her world seemed to spin. She could hear the sound of shots echoing, but Carlos’s presence was her anchor. He was there, always there, keeping her safe.

His men reacted instantly, moving swiftly to cover the situation. Their training kicked in, surrounding the area and pushing bystanders to safety. Carlos’s men were well-equipped to handle this kind of chaos. They were trained to neutralize threats with brutal efficiency. But nothing mattered more than Yn in his arms.

“Carlos,” Yn whispered, her voice trembling. “What’s happening?”

He lifted her chin gently with one hand, his eyes locked on hers. “Don’t worry, mi vida. I’m right here. I’ll always protect you, I swear it.”

Carlos’s fingers grazed her cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped her eye. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until he touched her. His soft touch was a stark contrast to the violence unfolding around them.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever,” he continued, his voice filled with a deadly promise. “You’re my everything, Yn. No one touches what belongs to me.”

As the gunfire continued, Carlos remained perfectly calm. His mind raced through the possible scenarios, analyzing the situation in mere seconds. This wasn’t just a random attack. Whoever was behind it knew exactly where to strike. And if they thought they could harm Yn… they had another thing coming.

The shots stopped as abruptly as they had started. Carlos didn’t move from his position, his arms wrapped tightly around Yn, keeping her close to his chest. His men had handled the problem quickly — but Carlos needed to be certain.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his hand now tracing small, comforting circles on her back.

Yn nodded, still shaken. “I’m okay… just scared.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “I won’t let them hurt you. Never. I swear it on everything I am.”

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted Carlos, and he raised his head slightly to see one of his men coming toward them. “It’s all clear, boss. It was a distraction, but we’ve handled it.”

Carlos nodded. “Good. See to it that no one gets too close to the area. I’ll deal with this later.”

His eyes returned to Yn, searching her face for any sign of distress. “You’re safe, mi amor. That’s all that matters.”

She met his gaze, her heart still racing but feeling calmer in his arms. “I know. I trust you.”

Carlos smiled, his expression softening as he gently brushed her hair from her face. “I love you, Yn. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” she whispered back, a small, relieved smile forming on her lips.

As they walked back toward the car, Carlos remained vigilant, his arm around Yn as they slipped into the vehicle. The security detail was thorough, and Carlos had his men close by, ensuring their safe return to the mansion. The world outside may have been dangerous, but as long as they were together, Carlos would face it head-on. For Yn, he would risk everything.

And no one — not even his enemies — would ever be able to tear them apart.

[cuteandhughesy]

‘I Knew They Didn’t Actually Hate Each Other!’ ╰┈➤ LD29

summary: lauren and connor mcdavid have very different reactions when finding out their best friends don't actually hate one another.

[word count] 2.8k

warnings: kissing | swearing | mature dialogue

a/n: a requested follow up part to couldn’t make it any harder! this is short and sweet but i’m absolutely certain this is how these interactions would go down if this was real life situation. ENJOY MY LEON GIRLIES 🧡💙

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

lauren knew.

okay, well, no she didn't know. but your best friend had a good incline that you were seeing some one.

it started with the smaller details. there was always fresh flowers—beautiful, expensive ones at that—on your kitchen countertop, accompanied by one of those little card holders. the note is always missing, meaning that you've put it somewhere. to which lauren says, suspicious.

less movie nights at lauren's because 'you're swamped with work.' more like swamped with sex. and you're always smiling, even when everyone is out together.

which unless lauren is fucking crazy and is completely remembering the past 7 years or so incorrectly, that was totally unheard of—especially when leon draisital is in the vicinity.

and lauren's pretty sure that she saw a hickey on your boob when your tank top shifted during hot yoga two weeks ago.

the math was just mathing, okay!

it started after the wedding. where as lauren was hungover and still wearing what felt like a million pounds of makeup from the night before, you waltzed into the room with a glow and a smile on your fresh face.

she'd honestly brushed that incident off until everything else starting falling into place like the perfect puzzle—but then lauren got to thinking. did you meet someone that night?

lauren has spent the past two months racking her brain for answers—answers to a question she wasn't going to ask you yet, because obviously she was determined to figure it out on her own before all else.

it was like the damn bachelorette in her head as lauren mentally assessed every single guy she and connor had at their wedding—trying to pinpoint which ones would capture her best friends attention enough for it to stick.

but no matter how many times lauren tried to work it all out, she came up short for answers.

you and this secret relationship are a mystery to her.

so it was this random september afternoon that lauren mcdavid decided she was going to get her answers—hold you down and physically pull them from your tongue if she has to. because your best friend is sick of being in the dark, especially when she knows….something is going on.

she can feel it in her damn gut.

so with an extra tight ponytail and her purse swinging loosely at her side, lauren knocks on your apartment door—so loud and aggressively that she almost scares herself. it's rather comical in the way she jerks her hand away from the wood at the sound.

she knows your home. wednesday's are your half days, meaning you only work in the morning. this time of year, just before the hockey season really starts up, connor's days are similar. and that’s how lauren remembers said information.

lauren was tempted to wait for her husband to get back from his suit fitting and make him come with her to your place—because like the whole good cop, bad cop idea sounded really appealing in her head—but lauren was too impatient.

she knocks again after a beat passes without any sound or sign of movement. it's only then that she hears your shaky voice through the door.

"sorry, one second!"

she squints incredulously at the door, even though you can't see her, her arms crossed over her chest like an impatient child. and sure, maybe she is impatient, but lauren feels that it's justified if you're keeping damn secrets from her like a freak.

finally, the apartment door is hastily pulled open, a gust of air pulling in the space between you and your best friend like the beginning of a storm. and perhapes lauren should've taken that as a sign.

at the sight of her, your eyes widen slightly, a wave of panic settling over your already frantic tainted features. you're slightly breathless, tank top a little askew like you've only just pulled it over the black bra lauren can see adorning your chest.

"hey," you greet, running a hand through your tousled hair, "I wasn't expecting you."

lauren's gaze narrows as she takes in your state, "I know. thought i'd drop in."

"oh," you swallow before giving a short laugh, "i'm actually just about to head out." another laugh, "yeah i'm just...I need eggs."

"eggs?"

"yeah!" you nod with seemingly panicked enthusiasm before giving a quick glance over your shoulder. you think it's discrete enough, but lauren catches it. 

she gives you a once over again, eyes trickling all the way down to your bare feet. it's then that lauren notices the shoes left hazardly by the front door. men's sneakers—men's sneakers that have been seemingly removed in a hast to be exact.

her lips part in shock, a tiny strangled gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes dart back to yours. "you're seeing someone! and he's in here right now, isn't he?"

this time, it's your turn to gasp. "i'm not seeing anyone!"

lauren raises a brow, "oh yeah?"

"yeah."

"okay, then who got you those flowers on your island?"

your jaw goes slack, mouth opening like you want to rattle off some sort of excuse, but the words never come.

lauren continues once she sees the little beige envelope still perched next to the beautiful arrangement of florals—pushing her way into your apartment like a woman on a mission. and that she is. "if you're not going to tell me, i'll just take a peek at that little card, mhm?"

"no!"

you dart past her, snatching the note before she has a chance to grab it.

and that’s the moment lauren’s knows that’s she’s been right all along. she makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh, dropping her expensive handbag to your barstool roughly. "okay, fine. i'll just find him then. 'cause I know he's in here."

"trust me when I tell you, this is not the way you want to meet him."

she stops walking, spinning on her heels as her inspector gadget brain starts up again. all half sarcastic hostility leaving her body as straight curiosity takes over—"so I haven't meet him before? because I've been trying to work out for the past few months if it was somebody at the wedding."

your eyes widen, "you've been sitting on this for months?"

"yeah! and it's been a damn uncomfortable seat because you didn't have the gut to just tell me about him," she trails off, "is he like a criminal or something?"

"no." you're quick to answer, "i'm pretty sure we'd both know that by now if that was the case." your slip up has your tongue going dry, eyes widening to a certain point that it looks painful.

"ha!" lauren points an accusing finger in your direction, "so I do know him."

"yes," you croak out, "but seriously let's just sit down and talk about this before you start searching my place like you're a FBI agent."

lauren doesn't even wait for you to finish before she's walking through your place, opening and closing closet doors on her way down the hall like a search dog. much to her dismay, the linen closet is empty, as well as the space you keep your holiday decorations.

the lack of man makes her scowl.

you're hot on lauren's heels, a blabbing mess of half strung together pleas falling on deaf ears as lauren pushes open your bedroom door.

there's a pair of jeans on the floor, half kicked under the bed like you—or whoever this man is—tried to hide them in a hurry. "is he in here?" lauren shoots you a pointed look. you wince, and she gets her confirmation. "is he in your closet?"

"i'm telling you right now, lauren, don't open the closet."

"i'm definitely going to open it."

and she does. and the sight before her immediately ignites a sound that can only be described as a wail. lauren shuts the closet door, a hand over her mouth while she blinks in a half shell shocked way.

a tense beat passes with lauren just staring off into space, and you anxiously biting the skin around your thumb nail, nervous gaze never once flickering from your best friend.

leon slips out between your closet doors a moment later, dressed in only his boxers. he has an awkward smile on his face and a hand cupping over his semi hard junk—trying to conceal all that from his teammates wife.

"hey lauren, how's it going?"

"what the fuck!" she gasps, looking between you both.

"you?"

you grimace, but nod.

"and you?"

leon nods.

“oh my god,” lauren fans her face, a dramatic flare that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing. “I think I'm going to pass out.”

you, used to and recognizing her said dramatics, don’t respond. but leon fully begins to freak out, eyes widening as he eases towards your best friends pacing form—large hands that minutes ago were down your pants, held out cautiously.

“you need sit down.”

lauren holds her hand up, halting your boyfriend in his tracks. “no, I can't—this is too much.” she begins fanning herself again, “when did this start happening?”

“what part?”

you shoot him a half stern look, “leon.”

“how many parts are there?”

“well we kissed when you locked us in your bedroom.” leon says often handily, like he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on this entire situation.

lauren gasps again—because what do you mean you guys kissed before the wedding? before today. “what?!” she all but squawks, big blue eyes darting between the two of you like you’ve just committed a crime.

she pauses, thinking back on that moment when she’d let you and leon out of her bedroom that day many weeks ago. were your lips swollen? was leon’s hair a mess? were you guys kissing when the door was opened?

it’s hard for lauren to recall when leon’s deep, gravely voice continues—“and we hooked up in muskoka.”

another gasp, louder and sharper than ever as lauren spins on her heels, focusing her attention solely on you—which really works in her favour considering leon is still half naked.

“I knew it started at the wedding! god, I didn't even consider leon. and for good reason! I thought you guys hated each other.”

“we did!” you confirm.

“actually for the record,” leon interjects cautiously, “I never hated her.”

“of course you didn’t.” lauren lets out a disbelieving sigh, running a small hand over her makeup free face while digesting the flurry of emotions coursing through her.

she looks between you both once again, a softer expression beginning to take over her sharp features. “so you guys are..?”

you swallow, “dating.”

“like dating dating.”

you cringe at the highschool tone of it all, giving leon a wtf squint. “were in love,” you elaborate after a second, eyes slowly falling back in line with your best friend.

she makes a noise, “oh god, this is like straight out of a romance novel. I kind of feel like i've got whiplash.” lauren rolls her lips together, “why did you guys hide this from me?”

the vulnerability lacing her words makes your heart squeeze, and the way her eyebrows draw upwards like a sad cartoon character only amplifies the feeling.

regardless of the guilt rattling your bones, you and leon had good reason for keeping the beginning stages of your relationship a secret—not just from lauren, but from everyone. reasons you immediately begin rattling off, and this time the panic is in your voice.

“it was your wedding! and for the first little bit we didn't know how to navigate everything.”

leon chimes in before you can blink, coming to your defense like he’s been doing for years—since before you even realized he was doing so. “and we spent years bickering and fighting and we just wanted to keep everything in the down low until we found our rythym.”

“yeah, and it just felt good—we were just ours.” you exhale loudly, running a hand over the flat of your stomach as if to soothe the wave of nausea, your eyes never once parting from your best friends. “i'm sorry, lauren.”

she nods, a natural glint in her eyes. “you guys are some of my best friends. i'm not mad...I just wish you felt like you could've told me.”

“I was a shitty friend,” you admit gently, chewing the skin of your cheek anxiously.

it’s instantly that lauren waves your comment off, padding on the carpeted bedroom floor to close to space between you. and she just hugs you, so tightly that it almost hurts, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“no, you could never be,” she mutters, “and this will definitely take me at least a week to digest but...i'll get over it.” the playful tone that lauren usually possesses eases back into her voice. “you guys look hot together.”

you practically snort, “thanks.”

she hums before her eyes drift back towards your boyfriend. “now leon please put your pants back on.”

“don't have to tell me twice,” leon breathes, already retrieving his discarded jeans from under your bed frame, tugging them up his thick legs in a way that makes you drool.

lauren pulls back from the hug, her small hands still holding onto your arms as a excitable grin pulls at the corner of her plump lips. “okay, now, tell me how leon confessed that he loved you.”

“oh god.” leon groans from behind the material of his t-shirt, only half way over his head.

but you just match her grin, thinking back to the night under the stars and the warm muskoka air. “you're going to die!”

—

it’s only a week after lauren forcing her way into your apartment and quite literally exposing you and a half naked leon into spilling the beans about your relationship, that connor finds out.

which, you’re surprised lauren didn’t spill the beans before then, especially considering her and her husband are still in that lovey dovey newly wed phase that makes them literally do and share every single thing with one another.

not that you can really say anything about being in a honeymoon phase, because you and leon are so deep in it that it’s almost embarrassing—you can’t recall a day since that night in muskoka that you haven’t been touching or kissing leon in some way.

anyways.

you and leon both decided that telling connor needed to be more of a formal conversation—compared to the way lauren found out, for example. so, you planned a dinner at leon’s condo and invited the happy couple over.

lauren, obviously sitting on this secret was practically buzzing on the way over in the passenger seat—connor sending his wife curious looks at every red light. but lauren only just grinned back at him like a cheshire cat.

it was kind of freaky.

and you and leon tried—really tried to get it right. dinner was in the oven on the keep warm setting, consisting home made chicken and veggies and potatoes that you drizzled with an amount of butter that would have the oilers nutritionists frowning, while you waited for them.

but it all started when leon reached above you to grab the plates, his hand enclosing around your hip and giving it a firm squeeze. half hard against your ass.

so really it’s your boyfriends fault, because soon enough you were making out on the kitchen island like horny teenagers.

you’ve got your legs wrapped around leon’s thick waist, hands running through his hair while he paws at your ass and legs. kissing like it’s the oxygen you need to keep breathing. and in a way, that’s what it feels like.

because this version of leon drasitial—hell, even the version you thought despised your guts just as much as he did beer nuts—is truly your lifeline. and yeah, he is the air you breathe. he’s the sun and the moon and you love him more than anything.

and leon loves the colour red now. especially when it’s your red nails tickling his arm while you watch a movie together. when it’s your red lips kissing his cheek in the lazy morning light. your red sweatpants that you always leave on his bathroom floor.

too wrapped up in one another to hear the door open, you’re completely oblivious to the sound of lauren and connor toeing off their shoes, only a half wall between you.

all you can hear is your thumping heart.

all leon can hear is your little breathy sighs.

until—"I knew they didn't actually hate each other."

lauren half laughs, half gawks as you and leon separate. she eyes her husband in disbelief—connor doesn’t even look phased. no, if anything he looks content.

like he knew. and not in the way lauren knew. but like, actually had a real gut feeling about their best friends.

"was I the only clueless one?" lauren questions, watching as you slip off the counter top, adjusting your frilly top as you do so—previously roughed up from leon’s wondering hands.

you send her a look, wincing at her question. clearly, that means yes.

but connor just shrugs, walking further into the delicious smelling kitchen. the oilers captain picks a grape off the vine sitting in the large fruit bowl, popping it in his mouth.

"nah, they were both clueless about each other's feelings for like…7 years. you pale in comparison to that."

[soloveyko]

Russia invaded Ukraine.

Any "deal" which rewards Russia in its mass butchery, rape, and slaughter of Ukrainians is not a peace plan, it is a capitulation. It is a green light to Russia that they are free to murder their way through Ukraine as much as they please down the line, bringing 19th century style colonial warfare forward to the 21st century. This behavior by Russia has historical precedence stretching back centuries--longer than the U.S., in fact, has been a country. Ukrainians understand this. They have lived it, generation upon generation. They know what happens when you make a "deal" with Russia.

For any Westerner, and this includes the President of the United States, to lecture Ukrainians about peace is an abject disgrace to the sacrifices Ukraine has made for democracy and freedom. We in the U.S. should be thanking Ukraine, lest our soldiers be the ones dying in the fields for freedom. To those Americans who object to us supporting Ukraine by sending our decades-old tech, which sits unused in bone fields, to Ukraine so that they might survive another day, ask yourselves: Would you rather pay with your blood? Every civilian butchered, every Ukrainian child stolen, and every inch of Ukrainian land torn away incurs a debt to both justice and righteousness. What we don't pay in dollars now, we will pay with bodies later. Ask the Ukrainians what that means, for they have already been paying the ultimate price for over ten years straight.

I have been to Ukraine before and after the war; I have seen their beautiful town squares filled with flowers replaced with the long bulletin boards of portraits of soldiers who died defending liberty. There is no American alive today who bears the tired eyes of Ukrainians waking up to the sound of sirens every day, for three years straight, because their homes are under threat of bombardment and destruction. What happened to the America of my grandfathers, the lauded "Arsenal of Democracy", who would have stood unflinchingly behind a people fighting for their freedom and ours and been proud of it? Are we truly okay with voting alongside the real murderous, bloody dictators like Vladimir Putin, Alexander Lukashenko, and Kim Jong Un, who achieve their goals in this world by crossing mountains made from the bodies of slaughtered innocents?

To my Ukrainian friends, I'm so sorry. I'm ashamed beyond words to watch the President of my country berate yours in what is supposed to be the People's office. Please know that millions of Americans do not stand for this: We stand behind you and we stand with Ukraine, even if our country has abdicated its role in defending liberty. May America rediscover her priorities and recover from the disgrace of the words said today by men who have no shame, and may Russia lose this bloody, murderous, genodical war. It could end today if Russia simply went home. It is that easy, it always was, and it always will be, no matter how the powerful may try to rape the truth.

Слава Україні, until the very end. 🕊💙💛

[readerforexiao]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃: 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader | romance, angst, fluff | childhood friends to lovers, denial + unspoken feelings + mutual pining, hurt / comfort, canon universe, emotional vulnerability and isolation, trauma ... tba

⌗ "I am human regardless of the power running through my veins. It lies within my heart, my human heart which feels ever so deeply, that I am bound to feeling emotions such as fear, hatred, greed, and love"

⌗ Word Count: 3.3k

⌗ Synopsis: Despite knowing that everything given demanded a price, and everything taken had a cost, Jinwoo would have done everything for you, relinquished all he had. But when granted power without end capable of continuous growth beyond that of limitation, he feared before he reasoned, and in his panic had he pushed you away. Still, you could love him no less even as his presence thinned into absence. Eventually, Jinwoo realized he could only run as far as you'd let him.

⌗ A/n: been working on this since feb. i am as hopeless with my writing as i am hopelessly in love with Jinwoo 💙

THEY MADE, AND IN THEIR MAKING, THEY UNMADE. And it became their legacy retold in history.

For the greatest of empires had they built upon the spine of the land, upon the hum of the earth’s uneven breaths and the shifting of its sands. But as they raised them into lofty castles of grandeur, into bridges that crossed ravines and forded gushing rivers, they had brought them to ruin by the thirst for more. Even the alliances forged by the blood of sacrifice— meant to be immortalised in legend— were cleaved apart with the blade of mistrust wedged deep between the scapula.

Once, when the fields of flowers had been kissed by the sun and caressed by the moon. When forests of old sheltered life beneath the canopy of their trees, and streams of pure birth coursed outward, nourishing all they touched. Light felt softer then. And time must have moved without urgency, too. For even the silence was sure to have been alive, full of meaning, full of breath. Until their petals were plucked and their rivers bloodied.

Trees were splintered. Wings clipped. Skin carved. And it had been such that nothing ever remained untouched. For the blame worthy were indeed beings of flesh— mortal… frail. Frail in what lies inside unspoken of. What mattered most.

They trample and are trampled by what lies beyond their control. And they break and are broken by the hands of those they love, envy… fear.

When the gates appeared and hunters rose from among the panic with powers beyond their grandest desires, disaster had been mistaken for salvation. Hunter Guilds were established to combat the monsters. But beneath their banners, division grew. Subtle at first, then swift, accelerating the downfall of what was already fraying at the seams.

In a cruel game where the strong preyed upon the weak, the greedy devoured the humble, and the wicked turned their blades to the innocent. Sins were repeated, not repented. For the power that descended upon them, disastrous in their hands, would be their undoing.

And so it was to be, as if writ by fate’s hand— humanity were forever doomed to become the ruin of every story. A final chapter none could ever rewrite.

❝𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙼𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜❞

❝𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎.❞ - 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚜

— 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

THE SUN TOOK LEAVE OF THE WORLD, bequeathing to the veil of shadow. The traffic lights turned green, engines stirred, and wheels began rolling. Uproar hurled through the streets as a motorbike wove between the blurred cars, its growl reverberating down the asphalt vein.

In the merging of headlights, you had seen his eyes; the speckle of blue within the grey that surfaced when caught in the gleam of luminosity. Those eyes sought you out, flicking from face to face with urgency, like a caged bird who mourned for the sky. He moved through the world shaped by his tragedies and misfortune, brave yet labelled weak and mocked as a coward.

Life altered him more times than one could count, wearing him down in the most horrid ways. He was the boy who knew pain too intimately, considered it a companion even if it had never been a desired one.

His smile had always held too much apology, stretched over a face that had forgotten genuinity. His shoulders drew taut and his spine locked in rigidness beneath a jacket worn and torn by responsibility and fight; the posture of someone taught by repetition to brace for the worst and never expect anything better, for the clothes on his back and a growing stack of unpaid bills were all he had.

Like a shadow, he carried himself, bowing his head as if he might offend the light. And though he had tried to stay small, to slip by unnoticed, mockery found him like a breath upon his neck all the same, as if daring him to think he deserved even that.

Their words cut deeper than any beast ever did. The sharpness of their laughter and ridicule hollowed him out, but he did what he had to do, even if it made him fold into himself and apologise for being weak and a pathetic stain on the world.

Your hand, cold against the heat of skin, held your neck where the phantom ache of his name still echoed alive.

You remembered the night the call came. When the hospital’s number flashed across your screen and how it hadn’t startled you at first because he had been in and out of emergency rooms enough times for it to feel like a routine. Bruises, fractures, and the occasional concussion, but he never stayed long. He had always walked out alive in the end. But that night had been different when Jinah’s voice, strangled by apprehension, threaded through the call.

The memory became one impossible to shake, for you had leaned close to his motionless body and inhaled the scent of ash and iron until it could not be forgotten. The image of him, every inch of exposed skin buried under gauze and wrapped so thickly it seemed he might disappear beneath it, burned into your mind.

"You idiot... stupid… stupid…" You hadn’t meant to say it in anger, but the words slipped from your quivering lips anyway, too heavy to hold back because so foolish, he was. Always so stubborn and persistent to a fault.

You couldn’t call it strength— what he did. Could not deem such reckless behaviour noble, even if he had done it all to provide for her, to ensure she had what she needed. To carry a burden that should not have been his alone. There was nothing noble about the way his body lay there, broken and unrecognisable beneath the bandages. Nothing admirable in the way he hadn’t stirred for days, no sign that the man you knew was still fighting to come back while his sister, whom he had done it all for, was left with nothing but the unbearable routine of waiting.

She had spent her days running back and forth between the hospital and home despite your protests. Nights were lonely, though she had grown accustomed to it. She always had her phone nearby as she waited for you to call with any change or any sign he would wake. She didn’t have the luxury of giving up. Not while her brother lay there, just like her mother. Not while he had made sure she wouldn’t have to.

Neither of them deserved this. And yet, here they were.

Red lights blinked overhead and as the cars rolled to a stop, you stepped off the curb, swept into the tide of pedestrians, moving like rain dissolving into the ocean, loose, unbothered, flowing with the kind of ease that comes from having somewhere to go but no urgency to get there. But you moved differently, slipping between them, quicker, with purpose. A single note out of tune. Your pace outmatched theirs. You couldn’t walk slowly— not tonight.

Bit by bit, the press of bodies thinned and the noise of car horns and voices had fallen away like smoke in the wind. Eventually, only the quiet rhythm of your breath and your footsteps remained.

Your knuckles struck wood, once, twice, then once more, until after a pause, the door creaked open.

“You're late."

“Work ran overtime," the warm ambience of her home welcoming you as you entered.

"You don't have to lie, you know." She wiggled her brows, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Jinwoo will be happy to see you"

“Dumbass” you muttered more to yourself than her, closing the door behind you.

Jinah went back to her show, drawing her knees up beneath her on the couch. The hum of the program filled the room but your attention drifted elsewhere, onto the shelf where dust clung faintly to the edges of picture frames, untouched for who knew how long. One in particular caught your eye. It was of Jinwoo and Jinah, years younger, caught mid-laughter, their faces bright and unburdened with a joy that no longer visited, a kind that did not belong to the present.

The second frame held a photo of Jinwoo and his mother. He couldn’t have been more than five, clinging to her with the easy trust of a child. His small chin rested against her shoulder as his feet dangled behind her, a supportive hand keeping him steady and sure, as if she’d always known exactly how to hold the weight of someone else’s world.

She was beautiful. Truly beautiful. Touched by the rare grace that only motherhood could shape. Time had aged her in each photo, but not unkindly for she wore her maturity well, like silk and aged wine, bearing those marks with pride. You saw a woman who lived, perhaps not perfectly, but wholly. A woman who had loved deeply, lost deeply, and still found a way to keep going.

When your eyes opened, the memory had receded. Still, her eyes sought yours in the familiar blur of your vision. But as your focus returned fully, you realised you had mistaken Jinah for her mother. Had come close enough to forget just how long it has been since.

You ruffled Jinah’s hair, like her mother had once done to you and she swatted your hand away, urging you to her brother’s room before you could do it again.

You made your way down the hallway, where the walls had been lined with so many memories, some of which you could only vaguely recall. Crayon drawings curled at the edges, left untouched since their mother fell ill. Neither of the siblings had the heart to take them down, despite how much they grew to hate them, for she loved those scrappy stick figures and food-stained paper. Above those childish doodles there hung a neat row of school certificates tucked into tarnished gold frames. Jin-ah’s name had stood out in bold across them, impossible to miss. Achievement after achievement. You loitered there in search of a name that never appeared and never would, and you moved on… what else could you do.

The door to Jinwoo’s room stood ajar. You peered inside. Livid greys and a gentle white light bled from the computer screen where he sat hunched over, his shoulders slouched and his spine curved in a way that suggested he’d been sitting there for hours staring at the monitor yet not really seeing it.

You didn’t knock. You hardly ever did. You offered the door a cursory nudge with your knuckles at most, but even that was rare. More often, you pressed it open the rest of the way and slipped inside if he hadn’t already been the one to draw you in first.

The creaking hinges might as well have been a greeting.

“Jinah was right…” you walked in, “You are brooding."

The mattress dipped beneath your weight with a muted groan, but still had he yet to acknowledge you. For a bated breath, nothing changed.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, swivelling his chair to face you. When his voice came to be, it came with the faintest brush of retraction and you were caught off guard by the low timbre.

Caught in a moment of process, you hadn’t replied, but your attention directed elsewhere, and Jinwoo followed your gaze to his desk where the clutter offered an unmistakable answer to his own question.

He understood immediately.

You wouldn’t have come all this way, at this hour by choice, not when he had made his distance so glaringly evident. He thought.

His eyes faltered on the cans of beer strewn across the surface, then moved to the one in his hand. A fleeting twitch of his fingers betrayed the desire to sweep them aside, out of your view, but he reined it in and tilted his head back, his throat working with practised ease as took a large gulp.

There had been no visible sign of intoxication on him, nothing in his posture to suggest the careless abandon of too much drink, and his movements, too, were steady and unshaken as he lowered it and settled it amongst the rest, making you pause because you knew something hadn't been quite right; you just couldn’t prove it beyond mere speculation.

“… You always had a bad sense of timing,” he said, blinking in short intervals until the distance in them fled, and he'd been something other than what was in front of him.

For some reason, discomfort slithered up your spine at the way he looked at you, the way he said that, as though a centipede had begun its crawl with a thousand legs prickling your nerves and seeking to burrow beneath your skin.

“I wasn’t planning on coming”, you confessed reluctantly, unable to voice what troubled you. Only that it had been marked in the fringe framing his eyes and in the finger tapping against the second-hand clock on his thigh.

“Then why did you?” he prodded.

“Because I gave you two weeks”

So you had known.

Part of him felt relieved, but the rest simmered with frustration. “So it’s not because Jinah called you?”

“She did, yes,” you admitted, “but I would have come around sooner or later”

All this time, Jinwoo believed he was successfully avoiding you when really you had only been allowing him that.

He stared at you.

You had always managed to complicate things for him and all along had he known your presence to be too much for him to resist, that a second in your company and he’d be bound to your every whim and tied to a mess of emotions he spent too long pretending he could move beyond. But in truth, he hadn’t because he knew he could not. Not really.

He lifted the can to his lips when your hand came upon his and stilled his movement. He smiled then, behind the metal. Though not with joy or relief or even bitterness, but because your touch aroused what he knew he was at present and perhaps for much of his life he would be undeserving of.

“You never ask,” He uttered in a breath almost missing, a breath nearly lost.

“Would you have answered?”

Fair enough.

He’d give you that.

Still… You never pried. Never pushed him into corners where he had to confront things he wasn’t ready to face, as if you perfected the balance of letting him come to you while at the same time knowing when to pull him by the ear and rein him in, and that frustrated him as it did attract him.

You took the can from him.

Although he hated it, he knew you were right. There was no use pretending anymore. No use keeping up the act. You had obviously caught on, and Jinwoo, astute and self-aware, knew better than to waste time on futility. He couldn’t push you away any further. And honestly, he no longer wanted to.

Annoying. His head fell against your stomach. Did you always have to be so... you?

“I would have answered,” he affirmed, “If only you had been the one to ask.”

Jinwoo’s hands encircled your wrists, his hold gentle and his touch almost pleading, like someone drowning alone for far too long. As if he had weathered shifting tides that pulled the shore from beneath him, endured squalls that reshaped the very landscape around him.

Like a man who clawed for the surface, desperate for the blaze of the sunlight in his eyes, for the agony of breath to tear through his lungs and burn the salt from his throat, he needed proof that he was still alive. That the scars and shattered bones, torn limbs and bloodied tears, all meant something.

Then again, it’s not like he gave you the chance to ask.

With your heart racing ahead of your breaths, your palm smoothed over his head. He hummed low in his throat, pressing closer to your abdomen. Close. Maybe too close. But not uncomfortable. Not awkward. You were still the same to him, in all the things that stirred his memories with fondness.

“I like the haircut, by the way,” you remarked, still threading gently through his hair, curling at the ends, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way you knew he liked.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he said flatly, leaning back.

“I’m not, you look good. Like you aged overnight in a cool, ‘I’m a reliable older brother who has his act together and is single-parenting his teenage sister while somehow managing not to emotionally combust’ kind of way.”

You tried to ruffle his hair, but he caught your wrist, slightly irked. “That was oddly specific and sounded much like an insult”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. You look the part of a mature young man, put together and all. Girls like that sort of thing.”

His grip tightened slightly in warning, not enough to hurt.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, tugging your hand back. “But seriously, how many poor souls fainted?”

Jinwoo was unimpressed. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s not a number,” you replied in a sing-song.

He exhaled through his nose, the closest thing he ever got to a laugh when you really pushed him. “You are worse than Jinah”

“High praise,” you grinned.

Jinwoo dropped onto his bed without ceremony, back hitting the mattress with a soft thud, one arm tucked behind his head. “That wasn’t a compliment”

Oh, but it was. You sank into his chair.

Jinwoo turned onto his side to face you.

The fear that had gripped him each time death pressed so near he could taste it always ended the same: with a final prayer. For himself. For the ones he’d leave behind. His mother and father would never see the boy who had raised himself into a man worthy of their pride. Only Jinah would remain to walk a path alone, chasing dreams they might never witness unless some cruel mercy woke their mother from her endless sleep, or brought their father from wherever he had disappeared to.

And you… whom he had loved longer than he had dared to breathe it aloud.

Back when, in the muck and dust of your childhood, your small fists had burrowed into the sand, not knowing the handfuls you threw found their way to him. He could only stand there taking it, his eyes wide but in awe, as if the hole you dug were a hundred-dollar bill placed into the hands of a struggling man. He had known it then, even. Perhaps not as love entirely, but as something precious to him.

The tide rose and washed into the holes he carved out since the disaster of the double dungeon, and further, into the fissures time had hidden and never healed. The fear of losing you had kept him at bay as he grew because it was better to remain your friend than to gamble and lose what little joy life had given.

Jinwoo exhaled, long and dreary, letting the dolefulness fall with the breath, he called your name so softly, so full of care and affection.

“I missed you”

You swallowed hard, blinking like it might steady the way the room tilted around your heart.

It wasn’t fair!

The way he said things like that and didn’t seem to realise they landed like an arrow between your ribs. Like he could just drop a quiet I missed you after pushing you away and not expect the ground to shift under your feet and unsettle you.

But that was Jinwoo, wasn’t it? Never loud about what mattered, but never careless either.

“I missed you, too” you whispered.

And he smiled.

He smiled. His eyes fluttering close, lashes falling against the tops of his cheeks, and for once, there was no tension in his brow, no shadows carved beneath his eyes. Just the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing as sleep found him.

All rights reserved | Copyright @readerforexiao | Do not copy, steal, or repost to any other platform💙

[ghostlyferrettarot]

✨Pick a card:⋆｡‧˚ 🩵ིྀ ˚‧｡⋆ How Your Next Partner Will Pursue You ⋆｡‧˚ 🩵ིྀ ˚‧｡⋆

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🦋🩵If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🦋🩵

⭐️🫧 💙Masterlist⭐️🫧 🫧 💙Masterlist 2⭐️🫧

₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟPile 1:

Hi Pile 1! This person will not enter your life through Instagram or TikTok, not anything like that, I feel like they kinda hate it honestly, maybe they dont even have social media; they have quite an unique energy tbh. They have a look that makes you turn your head and think "Who's that?", but with such an enigmatic vibe that you don't even know if they even realized you existed. But they did. They observe. They take their time. They're not much of a talker, but when they do, every word seems really important, everything has a meaning with them. You don't know if they're flirting or analyzing you, which its kinda funny, i see you all confused about them and it can make you a little bit stressed (in a good way). They leave you confused but wanting more. And then the chase begins. Not with flowers or grand gestures. With details you don't even know how to notice: they remember you don't like cilantro (if you dont like cilantro for real, shout out to you bc thats what im getting) , they save you the last piece of cake, they help you with something without saying anything, and then they disappear as if nothing happened. At first, you think they're very cold. You tell yourself you don't want to get involved. But when you get to know them better, you realize: they're someone with a lot going on inside. They don't show it out of fear, habit, trauma, whatever. But with you, things slip out. Long glances. Overly personal comments. Confessions that spill out unintentionally, i feel like thay are someone who is more private but with you they find themselves sharinh things without even noticing, you have something about you that makes them just drop their trust issues. And you start to see something that intrigues you more than any cheap chatter. They'll be constant, but in their own way. They'll make you feel seen, cared for, protected, without shouting it out. Until one day, without realizing how you got there, you're sitting across from them, looking at them as if they were your longtime best friend, and you know that they're just as scared as you are about this feelings. But they will stay with you right there, and a really beautiful realtionship will blossom <3. They are so sweet, honestly, its giving Edward Cullen in the best way possible, twilight might be important too.

₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟPile 2:

Hi pile 2! This energy is just so light, Pile 2, this person its so fun. It starts off easy. Chatting, laughter, support. You tell them your romantic dramas, they listen without judgment, and laughs when you say that no one's worth it anymore. You two may start out as friends, but they'll be thinking about you ALL THE TIME, believe me. And one day everythings changes, i feel like it will be so CLEAR for everyone that you two are in love, except for you two. Ayways, they give you a hug that lasts half a second longer than usual. They look at you as if they don't see you the same way anymore. And you feel it. But you get scared. Because if they were your friend, what do you do with this now? They start making comments they didn't say before. They take a little more interest in your personal life. They offer help without you asking. They listen to you as if you're the only thing that matters. And without saying it, they start showing up everywhere you are. Not out of necessity. Out of choice. Because they want to see you well (this oerson is honestly an angel pile 2, soo good for you). Because they're starting to like the way you laugh. The way you think. The way you live. When they finally decide to take the plunge, it won't be with a picture-perfect romantic declaration. It'll be something simple, almost casual, on an ordinary day. But you'll be ready. Because you've been wondering for a while. Because deep down you knew this wasn't "just friendship." And when you kiss for the first time, you feel that this is IT, that finally, someone truly knows you and still chooses you. That love doesn't have to hurt. That sometimes, they're right there next to you, making you laugh like it's nothing <3. This person is giving me Jim Halpert from the office vibes, you two can have a Jim-Pam kind of story, i honestly loved channel this so much, im wishing you two the best, send the weeding invitation pile 2!

₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟPile 3:

Hi pile 3! Oooh my dearest pile 3, this story starts just when you think it's over. When you say "I'm not looking for anything else" and the universe laughs in your face and sends you this person who appears as if you had manifested them by accident (you could have tho, i feel your manifestation skills are on point). Suddenly you're going about your life, relaxed, and boom: someone speaks to you with such fresh, joyful energy that you don't even realize you're already liking them in two seconds. And it's not that they're coming with a plan to win you over. They're just who they are. They make you laugh without even trying. They say lovely things to you without even realizing it. They look at you with a frightening honesty because there's no ulterior motive, just desire. A desire to get to know you. A desire to share. A desire to be with you. And you, who were comfortable in your bubble, start to open up without realizing it. This person pursues you with authenticity. They invite you to random things. They send you beautiful songs. They tell you what they think without a filter, and they don't hold anything back. They're the kind who writes "I like you" and isn't embarrassed to death. They tell you they miss you and mean it. They don't need to make a fuss to keep you interested. They just make you want to stay. And when you see them interact with life, with their friends, with their family, with you, you understand that they're not faking. That it's not a mask to fall in love. It's simply them. And that kind of truth, that kind of light, is what makes you trust again. And just like that, without looking for it, without planning it, without expecting it… you fall. And you say thank you. Because finally this person feels like exactly what you needed, when you most thought it no longer existed (btw im so sorry if you had bad romantic expiriences before, non of them were your fault and you deserve all the love in the world pilr 3, sending you my love <3). You will be glowing with this person pile 3, and they will worship the ground you walk in, LITERALLY.

˖°𓇼💙⋆☁️🫧Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!˖°𓇼💙⋆☁️🫧

[thebarneschronicles]

The Barnes Chronicles Masterlist

Welcome to The Barnes Chronicles Masterlist!

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve found your way to my little corner of the internet. Here, you’ll find all of my writing for Bucky Barnes stories, conveniently organized in one place. Whether you're in the mood for fluff, angst, or something a little spicier, I hope you’ll find something that speaks to you.

I also accept requests! If you’ve got an idea for a fic, feel free to send it my way— I'm always looking for new ideas to bring to life. Thank you for all the love and support; your reblogs, comments, and likes mean the world to me!

Now, go ahead and explore The Barnes Chronicles. 💙

ONE SHOTS The Edge of Patience

Word Count: 1.8k

You’re no stranger to the overprotective nature of your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes. After a heated argument about wanting to join him and Sam on their missions, you knowingly push his buttons until his patience snaps. What starts as a battle of wills turns into a raw, unrestrained encounter—punishing, heated, and entirely irresistible.

A Quiet Escape

Word Count: 6.3k

During a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it.

Stuck With Me Word Count: 3.3k When Bucky returns home after a mission, his unexpected transformation leaves you speechless and you can’t help but tease him about it. As playful banter shifts to deep, tender moments, your desire and frustration collide in an encounter that leaves you breathless, unable to resist the pull of a love that refuses to age. Nine Lives Word Count: 9.4k

Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

Out of Depth, Into You

Word Count: 8.3k

Bucky Barnes was supposed to get in and out. Simple. Clean. But Hydra had other plans.

An ambush leaves him broken, bleeding, and barely standing—and you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Trapped in a safehouse, patching him up with shaking hands, you realize the truth you’ve been avoiding: you almost lost him. And that scares you more than anything.

Because Bucky isn’t just your mission partner. He’s yours.

And maybe… just maybe, he’s known it all along. --

SERIES

Closer To Home Series A shared universe of Bucky Barnes x Female Reader stories exploring love, trust, and the journey of healing.

As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think. Closer To Home Closer To Home II Closer To Home III

Closer To Home IV Closer To Home V Closer To Home VI

CTH Blurbs Navigating the Ordinary What starts as a lunch invitation quickly spirals into an unexpected errand to the local CVS, where playful banter about modern absurdities and a deep dive into his dating history lead to unexpected revelations. For Science Science demands answers. And when your boyfriend happens to be a genetically enhanced super soldier, well… some questions are simply too intriguing to ignore.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

What ab tenjiku guys with a yapper gf⁉️ and I mean like, after the boombayah she'd stare dead at the ceiling and be like "that feeling you get on your tongue when you eat a pineapple is actually the pineapple trying to eat you" and go on a whole rant til she falls asleep. Plssss do this my glorious queen Kaz 🙏🙏😁😁😁😜🤭😍😝🎀😜😭🤭😝🤝😝🤝🤭😁🤭😁♥️♥️♥️

Tenjiku x Talkative!Girlfriend!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, fluff, kinda smut on Mochi's, post-sex convos, random facts, questions, and workplace drama ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mochi, Mucho, Shion

note: glorious queen is crazy 😭 pls continue tho lmao

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 He's not trying to hear that yapping

"Zana, did you know that cats basically brainwashed humans into loving them?"

"...what?"

🎴 He'll roll over and ignore you until you shut up

🎴 Yap enough and he'll leave the room and sleep on the couch

Kakucho

🩷 He loves listening to you talk, but it's late at night and he's tired

🩷 He politely asks you to be quiet

"Kaku, do you ever think-"

"Babygirl, y'know I love listening to you yap all day, but please lemme get some sleep."

🩷 Cuddles you and buries your face in his chest so you'll shut up

Ran

💜 This man values his beauty sleep, so he hates the rants fr

"Ran, if you had the power to stop time for as long as you want, what would you do?"

"I'd get some damn rest, now go to bed princess."

💜 Puts noise cancelling headphones in to block you out

Rindou

🩵 Happily listens to your yapping

"Then the lady started going off, calling my boss out of his name and shit."

"Oh really?...Then what baby?"

🩵 Falls asleep while you're talking, your voice is soothing for him

🩵 He's the type of boyfriend to fall asleep on calls too

Mochi

🍡 Doesn't mind the yapping at first

"Then the guy started traveling through time to save his childhood friends and-"

"Darling I'm gonna stop you right there, because if you got time to yap, then you have energy for another round."

🍡 Prefers you whimpering and moaning rather than talking his ears off

Mucho

💙 Doesn't even let you start yapping

"Baby if-"

*Covers your mouth with his hand* "It's time for bed love."

💙 I swear he'd be like an old man, going to sleep early and shit lol

Shion

♥️ Listens intently to every word you say

"Did you know some sharks eat their siblings in the womb?"

"That's fucking vicious...tell me more."

♥️ Stays up all night talking to you until you fall asleep

♥️ He hates when you fall asleep before him, he doesn't like the silence or the absence of your voice

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

[iheartsophie]

Surprise!!

Harry Lewis (W2S) x Fem!Reader (3.6k words)

Summary: Reader surprises Harry during the Sidemen’s “$20,000 VS $200 HOLIDAY” after not seeing eachother for a month

Warnings: Swearing, PDA, small panic attack, NOT PROOF READ!!!!

Author note: i linked “I Got U” as a song because i feel like that is the most summer feeling song i know and im missing summer rn

So a bit of backstory, Josh has planned a $20,000 vs $200 holiday an he called me around two weeks ago asking if I would join in the video and surprise Harry as well as the other lads- of course I said yes! I’ve currently been away on a business trip for the past month and I haven’t been able to see Harry, the only way I’ve seen him is on FaceTime which isn’t the same as seeing and hearing his voice in person. Every week when the boys have been recording they���ve secretly been messaging me and sending me photos of Harry moping around and complaining about how he won’t see me for an extra week due to the holiday video. The only people who do know are Josh, Kon, Kirsty, Cal and Freezy. Cal and Freezy are also tagging along to surprise the boys.

As soon as my last business meeting was over I rushed out of the doors and directly onto the train home because I needed to pack as soon as possible because I would not have time to in the morning because Mr. Josh Zerkaa decided to book the earliest flight in existence, Cal and Freezy were fine with it; me on the other hand, I was fuming… because that means I’m missing out on my beauty sleep!

(The night before surprising Harry… )

After the excruciatingly long train ride from Manchester to London I was finally back home at mine and Harry’s shared apartment, it was weird walking in through the doors and not having Harry greet me at the door was a hug and a kiss.. but I reminded myself I would be in the same country as him in just short of 17 hours. I headed towards our bedroom and threw on some pjs which consisted of one of Harry’s t shirts and some shorts. Packing was a nightmare, let’s just put it that way. I had not been on holiday in so long and I had forgotten how stressful it is making sure you have enough necessities to last you the time you’re away and also making sure you have not forgotten anything… So I just grabbed all of my clothes that were in my “summer side” of the wardrobe and tried to stuff it into one suitcase and that did not work, so I ended up with two family sized suitcases almost bursting at the seams full of my things.

As soon as I had finished packing I went to make a quick pot noodle in the microwave as I knew I wouldn’t tend to the dishes in the morning and I don’t want to come back to messy dishes after the holiday and I definitely don’t think Harry would either. As I was eating my pot noodle my phone started buzzing, I looked at the contact “Bog 💙” - I answered straight away

(Italic- Harry)

“Hello (y/n/n)”

“Hiya babe you okay? How’s the trip so far?”

“Could be better… The trip is alright , I’m on the good team so that’s good I guess, could be better if you were here”

“Aww I’m missing you too, don’t get yourself down love, only 5 more days left! Then you’ll be back home and we can go see that movie you wanted to see if you’re up for it”

“I know and of course I want to go to the movie are you mad! My all time favourite movie franchise ever”

(I giggled as I heard JJ, Tobi and Josh in the background telling harry to get off the phone and go to the sauna with them)

I shouted down the phone

“Oi you lot shut your mouth we are talking over here! Anyways, I best get going I need to call Cal and Freezy to make sure they’re up and ready early in the morning tomorrow”

Shit, I’ve slipped up…

Harry frowned at me through the phone

“What do you mean? Why do you need to do that?”

What do I say? Think y/n. Think!

“Oh! Did I not tell you? We’re going on a hike tomorrow, yeah! To the Lake District?”

“Ohhh okay, yeah best let you go then. Love you!”

“Love you too, bye!”

That was close… I can’t believe that just happened. How did I manage that? Anyways, I put my empty pot noodle in the bin and put the fork in the dishwasher to deal with later. I went into the bathroom and completed my night routine and got into bed, and quickly messaged Cal and Freezy to have their alarms set and where we will meet at the airport in the morning. Soon after that I dozed off…

(Time skip to the getting off the train)

As I was getting off the train I got a message from harry:

“Bog 💙: Have a nice day with the boys, please don’t push them off the mountain🙏, love you”

I sent a quick message back:

“I’ll try my hardest, love you too”

I somehow bumped into Cal and Freezy at the train station instead of at the airport, they both brought their cameras to get footage of us on the way their so the editors can put it in and we have our own little segments in the video. “Look who we have here…” Cal teased, “Mrs. Harry Lewis”. “Not a mrs yet, I’m still waiting” I corrected while holding up my left hand beholding my empty ring finger. After that small segment they put their cameras away and we caught a taxi and made our way to the airport. Getting out of the taxi was a struggle not for the boys, just for me, because of my two huge suitcases it was hard trying to pick them up and out of the boot of the taxi. And instead of the boys ,who are meant to be like brothers to me, helping me get them out they just filmed me while laughing in the background and caught a clip of my tripping over the suitcase which was behind me. “You’re both such dicks, wait till I tell Harry”, “What is Harry going to do? Cause I can bet you £100 right here that he will laugh too.”

We finally made track down the road to the airport and Freezy started filming a little bit with Cal next to him and me behind them still struggling with my suitcases, which you can imagine is causing me some unneeded anger. “As you can see y/n finally got her suitcases out and we are on the way to the best holiday, we are going to the best destination. Thank you sidemen for this holiday, we really appreciate it”, “Bro you’re such an arse licker, you just want to be on the good team if you’re invited again!” I pointed out, Cal turned around to me “Now, now, y/n don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing.” I stayed silent and they both laughed.

“We are on our way to meet- surprise them, they have no idea that we’re going I’ve been playing tricks with Harry all week, y/n told us that she nearly slipped up on the plan”, “I didn’t mean to! I feel so bad lying to him, he told me to have a good day in the Lake District and to message him when we get there.. he’s going to be so worried when I don’t message him.”

(Time skip to when we’re in the airport)

Poor Cal is not having a good time, he’s left his phone on the train and now his bag has been chosen for a search and I know this isn’t about me but I just want to get on that plane now, and all of this messing about is causing me to stress so bad and I can’t talk to harry about it because it will give away our secret so I just keep to myself and put my headphones on.

We’re finally on the plane, at last! But the only problem is I haven’t told the boys I’m scared because whenever I’m on a plane I’m usually with Harry and he can just sense my worry and comforts me without me having to tell him or ask him to. Though only Freezy is aware because of when I went skiing with him and Harry and started crying when that plane took off. When plane started to move my breathing started to pick up and I leat my elbows on my knees and looked down. Unbeknownst to me Cal and Freezy looked at each other over my body and mouthed to eachother “Is she alright?” Cal asked, “She’s terrified of flying” Freezy pointed out. Freezy tapped my shoulder for me to look at him and when I did he opened his arms for me to go into and he hugged me while I cried into his shoulder, and whilst I did he was rubbing my back and trying to soothe me the best he could.

It took me a few minutes to calm down and when I did Cal let me watch a movie on his laptop, which lasted almost the whole flight. We finally landed and all three of us made sure we turned out locations of for the boys, whilst we were doing that all the messages that didn’t send because we were on the plane we’re coming through, all of mine were from Harry and a few of the boys..

Bog💙: message me when you arrive so I know you got there safely x

Bog💙: and don’t forget to tell me if Cal slips up the hill again

Bog💙 hello? It’s been 3 hours now surely you’re almost there by now

Bog💙: why aren’t my messages going through are you okay?

Bog💙: babe please tell me you’re okay

Tobi: Harry’s freaking out are you okay? Please let us know

JJ: Fam what are you playing at, are you alr??

(Time skip to getting to the harbour)

I quickly replied to them all reassuring them I’m okay and that I forgot about telling Harry I arrived. Josh messaged us to tell us to meet at the harbour with our suitcases because we can leave them on the yacht when we get to it. So while we were waiting for Josh to get here we found a British bar and we ordered a nice English breakfast each, though while we were waiting I went to the bathroom and got changed into a bikini and put some denim shorts over the top and some of my nice sandals on. We finished our breakfast and Josh arrived outside the bar.

Josh took us to the yacht they had rented and where we were going to surprise the boys, and we chose were we were hiding and a code word Josh will say for when we were to jump out which was “chips”, though they told me to come out a little bit later as an extra EXTRA surprise for harry. Cal and Freezy hid behind the seat were the wheel was and I was at the bottom of the stairs on the lower deck, enough to hear Josh but also enough so Tobi, JJ, and harry walk last and don’t suspect anything.

Everything was in place and ready to go. Now we were just waiting and anticipating the boys’ arrival. Josh mumbled that he could see the boys and I slightly looked over the steps to make sure Cal and Freezy were hidden and I couldn’t see them so I did I little nod to myself and ducked back down because they finally listened to something for once. I could started to hear the boys, I could hear Tobi repeating “you’re a king, you’re a king” to Josh and JJ saying “oh my god” and the nervous laugh I could recognise anywhere, harry. I started to get butterflies in my belly coming to terms that I’m seeing harry for the first time in a while.

“I’m buzzing to eat these chips”

All you could hear on the yacht was cheering and laughing. And Harry’s infamous screams. All the boys ran to hug each other and tackled each other. When it all calmed down Harry went silent as if piecing things together, “Whats the matter Harry?” Tobi questioned, “If Cal and Freezy are here, where’s y/n then?” and I took that as my queue to come up the stairs with a tray of drinks. “Hello? Special delivery” ( yes when I was in the lower deck I found the bar and made everyone drinks) Harry just stood up and stared at me, while Tobi and JJ ran up to me, I was quick to put the drinks on the closets surface to save them from being spilt everywhere. I welcomed Tobi and JJ with a hug. When they let go Harry had finally took it all in and realised I was here and ran towards me and tackled me onto the large sofa and gave me the biggest hug and repeating how much he had missed me.

The boys went up to the other side of the boat to give me and Harry some space to speak a bit and catch up, I told him about how my business meeting went well and how my brand is expanding and he was telling me about how the shoots were. We sat in comfortable silence after our conversation and I looked down at his legs and realised he was wearing sweat shorts and frowned, “You know I don’t think those are the best shorts to swim in”, “Don’t worry I’ve got some swim trunks with me”, “Where?”, He reached to his shoulder to prove that he has them and that they’re slung over his shoulder, I started laughing “I think you’ve flung them off the boat in excitement. We both looked over the side of the boat and low and behold there they were, bobbing along in the water. “Oh for fucks sake”

(Time skip)

It was soon time to have a bit of a feast on the boat me and harry sat next to eachother. Cal, Freezy and I weren’t that hungry considering about an hour and a half ago we had a full English, so we just stuck to some picky bits. There were many laughs and stories exchanged at the table mainly questions towards me cal and Freezy about how long we knew about this and how I managed to keep it a secret from harry.

Josh excused himself from the table to answer a phone call from Ethan which we all predicted was him complaint about the conditions he was currently in, we all told Josh to put it on speaker phone so we could hear his complaints and we were all creasing in laughter, at one point I wheezed which all the boys could recognise anywhere. Ethan picked up on it and shouted down the phone “Oi! Was that y/n? What the fuck, traitor! You said you would never go to the good team.” , “I fear you heard me wrong Behz, I said “I would never go to the good team if you were on it” “, my answers errupted in laughter and screams of shock from the boys. I then left and walked away to go a sunbathe and enjoy myself for a while.

With my headphones on and music playing I spent at least an hour sunbathing, unaware of the carnage going on around me. So when I took my headphones off and heard screaming and jet ski engines blaring I was very confused of how they did all this without disturbing me. I got up out of the deck chair and the whole top deck was soaked in wet foot prints and discarded towels, I watched over the side of the boat as the boys were jumping into the deep blue sea. Though all of a sudden I heard wet feet plodding behind me and I turned around to harry creeping up on me. “Harry, no!” “What are you talking about? I’m not going to do anything” I was then picked up and thrown into the water, harry still clinging onto me, “Harold! Why would you do that!” I scolded. “Just helping you cool off,” he shrugged. While all this happened the boys were looking down at us pointing and laughing.

I stayed in the ocean for a while until they started circling me with jet skis and trying to peer pressure me into going on the surf board, which i declined straight away and also the fact I was getting tired from the travelling and then sun beaming down on me. So I climbed back up the ladder and propped a nice parasol up to give me some shade and I decided to have a nap. A couple of minutes later I was woken up by Harry sitting next to me, “Why aren’t you laying down?” I asked, “I didn’t want to wake you and get you wet because you’ve seemed to have dried off and caught the sun already!”, “Don’t be silly come here.” I told him and opened my arms for him to cuddle into, and I started to play with his wet and tousled hair which he hummed in reply to. We both dozed off in each others hold, I did hear a camera shutter near by though I thought nothing of it a just thought it was Kirsty taking pictures of the boys on the jet skis. I jolted awake when I felt this large weight on top of my body and opened my eyes to see all the boys piling on top of me and harry, “what are you doing!” I exclaimed, “we’re basking in the love!” One of them replied and started making kissing noises to eachother, which me and harry both laughed at.

(Time skip to the villa)

Freezy pulled out his camera and started speaking “Lux, y/n this is the first time we’re gonna see it [the villa], we know it’s sick though because we know we’re in the good team.”

We got out of the car and I held Harry’s hand and walked up to the gates, waiting for them to open. Me and harry stayed behind the group because we haven’t had much alone time together since I arrived so we just distanced ourselves a little. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, “You tired?” Harry asked me “oh my gosh yes, I can’t wait to go to bed.” I groaned. When the gates opened my jaw dropped, this place was stunning, I want to live here!

“One thing is though these aren’t filled with water,” harry pointed at the small fountain at the front door, “I may have to leave a four star review because if this.” I slapped Harry’s shoulder jokingly “Don’t even start!” We walked through the front doors and me and JJ looked at eachother and immediately knew what to do, and I let go of Harry’s hand i quickly stood next to JJ and we started to sing the halo theme tune together in the large foyer. As we finished the boys laughed and and Freezy said “Ayy that’s the halo soundtrack!”

The boys started to give us a tour round the place and I was shocked at the size of the kitchen and the the large living room that looks out into the garden and also there’s a lift! They took us to the garden and told Cal, Freezy and I to face away and then turn around. JJ counted us down from 3 and when we turned around my eyes widened- the view was breathtaking…”you’ve got a mountain, in your back garden!” I exclaimed. The tour lasted awhile which I wasn’t surprised about because look at the size of this place. When they mentioned the poker table, mini arcade and the sauna I decided to find mine and Harry’s shared room and unpack my things because those things don’t interest me at all.

I had to memorise the route to mine and Harry’s room and started to unpack and when i finished I plopped myself onto the bed and let out a large sigh out of exhaustion. I heard the bedroom door open and close ,but I was too tired to lift my head up, and I felt the bed sink next to me and someone started to play with my hair. I opened my eyes to see Harry smiling down at me, “Did you see Freezys instagram story?” Harry questioned, “No not yet why?”, “Look..”

Calfreezy posted an instagram story…

“Aww they’re so cute! - even though I’ve been here for half a day already I’ve had so much fun.” I told harry, “I’m glad, because I’m really happy you’re here because you don’t know how much I’ve missed you, it’s been so boring and lonely coming home to no one for a month!”, “Don’t worry I couldn’t handle it either, I even told them at my meeting that from now on I’m working from home, so I can be with you more often.” Harry smiled and kissed my forehead. “Shall we get a shower and into some pjs and chill downstairs or do you want to watch a movie up here?” He asked me. “I think I want to watch a movie with you!” We went and got our shower and into some pjs which mine -again- consisted of one of Harry’s shirts and some shorts. We got tucked into bed and chose a movie that we both enjoy and I laid back and cuddle into harry and laying my head on his chest. We both fell into a deep slumber, not without saying “I love you” to eachother.

[lila-lou]

✨Folded✨

Summary: Your first time with Ben lands you in the ER and in the middle of his chaotic, possessive version of love.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, kinda fluffy, kinda funny

Word Count: 2721

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room buzzed above you, a headache forming right behind your eyes. You shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair, wincing as the movement sent a sharp reminder through your body of exactly why you were there. Ben sat slouched next to you, arms crossed over his chest, radiating pure impatience like a human space heater.

"You’re fine", he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "You’re just… delicate or something".

You shot him a look so sharp it could've cut through the damn walls. "Oh, I’m delicate now? You just threw me halfway across the bed like a goddamn frisbee".

He smirked, and you wanted to both kiss him and punch him at the same time. "Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve braced yourself better", he said, shrugging like he hadn’t nearly snapped you in half an hour ago.

"You’re unbelievable", you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe next time you should come with a warning label: Caution — may cause serious bodily harm during sex".

Ben leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a low laugh. "Please. You loved it".

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Loved the part where you folded me like a lawn chair? Sure. Best moment of my life".

Despite everything, the pain, the embarrassment, the fact that you were sitting in a hospital gown with an ice pack pressed against your ribs, you felt your mouth twitching into a smile. Ben caught it immediately, his own grin growing wider, the cocky bastard.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, injury and all. "You’re tough. You’ll survive. And when you do…", he paused, smirking again, "you’re gonna be begging for round two".

You scoffed, elbowing him lightly, careful this time not to hurt yourself further. "In your dreams, Soldier Boy".

"Every night, sweetheart", he said without missing a beat, reaching out to squeeze your hand with a surprising gentleness that made your heart stutter, even now.

The nurse finally called your name, and as you stood up, wincing again, Ben stood too, towering over you, close enough that you felt the warmth rolling off him. Despite all his bravado, he stayed glued to your side, steadying you without saying a word.

Maybe he wasn’t great at apologies, hell, maybe he barely knew the word existed, but right now, you figured actions spoke louder anyway.

The exam room was colder than the waiting area, and the thin paper on the exam table crinkled loudly as you tried to settle onto it without grimacing too obviously. Ben stood nearby, arms folded, looking like he owned the damn place despite the fact that he was clearly the problem.

The door swung open with a soft knock, and a tired-looking doctor, mid-forties, glasses, no patience left, stepped in, glancing between the two of you and your chart.

"Alright", he said, glancing down at the clipboard. "Looks like you’ve got some bruised ribs, maybe a minor strain. We’ll get a scan just in case. Can you tell me how this happened?".

You opened your mouth, you really did, but Ben beat you to it, his voice loud, confident, and absolutely unapologetic. "Yeah, so we were fucking", he said bluntly.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Ben kept going, completely ignoring the way you shot him a wide-eyed look of horror. "I mean, she was on top at first, right? But then she said she wanted me to take control, and I thought, ‘Hey, no problem, I’m great at that’, so I flipped her over. Maybe a little too hard… she kinda bounced—".

"Ben", you hissed, trying to stop him, mortified.

He waved you off, like you were interrupting the most important TED Talk ever. "—then, you know, I was giving it to her good", he continued, nodding proudly, "and I guess I got a little too into it. She sort of folded in half like one of those camping chairs. Heard a little pop. Not a sexy one, like an actual pop".

The doctor blinked at him, utterly deadpan.

You covered your face with your hands. "Please kill me", you muttered into your palms.

Ben, undeterred, barreled right through the awkward silence. "Anyway, she finished, I finished, it was great. Five stars. But then she couldn’t really move after, so here we are".

The doctor cleared his throat loudly, scribbling something on your chart, probably 'Patient dating an idiot, but in love with him'.

"Right", the doctor said, voice carefully neutral. "Well, thank you for the… thorough explanation. We’ll get those scans done. In the meantime, maybe consider… pacing yourselves".

You groaned loudly, letting your head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk.

As soon as the doctor left the room, Ben turned to you, still looking ridiculously pleased with himself. "What?", he said, smirking. "You want me to lie? I’m not ashamed of blowing your back out".

You glared at him, cheeks burning hotter than a furnace. "Next time you get me hospitalized", you snapped, "you’re paying for dinner and flowers".

Ben laughed, reaching out to gently brush your hair behind your ear. "Done. That pussy is worth it".

A few minutes later, after some paperwork shuffling and an excruciatingly awkward wait, a younger doctor stepped in, not the same one as before. This guy couldn’t have been more than thirty, clean-shaven, fresh out of med school, and way too friendly for Ben’s liking.

He glanced at the clipboard, then smiled at you.

“Alright, Y/N”, he said brightly. “We’re gonna need to do a quick physical check, make sure nothing else is damaged. I’m gonna have you slip out of the gown so I can take a look at your back and sides, okay?”.

You nodded, already reaching to undo the ties at the back of the thin hospital gown. Standard, right? No big deal. Until you heard a low growl behind you.

Ben straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall, his whole posture shifting, shoulders squared, chest puffed out. Every part of him suddenly screamed territorial caveman. “She’s not gettin’ fucking naked for you”.

The young doctor blinked, taken off guard. “Sir, it’s medical. I’m a professional”.

Ben stepped forward, looming way too close for hospital etiquette. “Don’t care if you’ve got ten degrees and a stethoscope made of fucking gold. Find another way”.

You sighed heavily, shooting Ben a glare over your shoulder. “Ben. It’s fine”.

He ignored you completely, never breaking eye contact with the poor doctor, who now looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that led him to this moment.

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly debating whether arguing with a super-powered, pissed-off Soldier Boy was worth his medical license. Wisely, he chose the path of least resistance. “Alright”, he said carefully, backing up a step. “Maybe you can help her adjust the gown so I can check without… full exposure”.

“Yeah”, Ben said, flashing a grin that was all teeth. “Thought so”.

Muttering under your breath, you let Ben come over, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he helped untie the gown just enough to expose the parts the doctor needed to see.

The examination was quick — a few pokes, some prodding, the doctor muttering notes — but Ben never moved from your side, hovering protectively, eyes sharp and watchful.

When it was finally over and the doctor left, Ben immediately retied the gown, his fingers brushing your skin with careful touches that made your heart race for an entirely different reason.

“You’re insane”, you said, half laughing, half exasperated as you turned to face him.

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Maybe. But no one gets to look at you but me”.

You shook your head, pretending to be more annoyed than you actually were. “Possessive much?”.

Ben leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You love it”. And the worst part was, you did.

You didn’t even make it halfway off the exam table before the nurse came back with the final report, a sympathetic wince on her face.

“Looks like you’ve got four sprained ribs”, she said, handing you a packet of instructions you weren’t about to read. “You’re gonna be sore for a while. Bruising’s already setting in… lot of internal swelling. Ice it, rest, no heavy lifting, and definitely no… strenuous activities”.

Her eyes flicked awkwardly to Ben, who was standing there looking like a kicked puppy and a thunderstorm rolled into one. “Yeah, yeah, we get it”, Ben muttered as the nurse left the room.

You pulled the gown tighter around yourself, trying to breathe through the ache that flared in your chest every time you moved.

Ben scowled down at you, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Sprained ribs”, he grumbled under his breath. “Geez. I was aiming for you to feel me somewhere else, sweetheart. Not in your goddamn ribcage”.

You gave him a look, deadpan. “Trust me. I do”.

Ben’s mouth opened, probably to fire back something cocky, but he paused, really looked at you, taking in the way you winced even shifting your weight. Some of the swagger bled out of him then, replaced by something quieter, heavier. Guilt, sharp and obvious even under his usual bravado.

“You should’ve told me”, he muttered, softer now. “If it hurt”.

You snorted lightly, regretting it immediately when it made your ribs throb. “Ben. At the time, I couldn’t tell if I was dying or just having a spiritual experience”.

He cracked a reluctant, crooked grin at that, the edge of it tinged with worry. “Yeah?”, he said, stepping closer, his voice low and rough. “That good, huh?”.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. “You broke four of my ribs, genius. Congratulations. New personal record”.

Ben chuckled under his breath and reached out, his massive hands careful as he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were made of glass. “I’ll do better next time”, he murmured, something fiercely earnest in his tone. “Promise”.

You leaned back slightly, giving him a teasing smirk despite the dull, throbbing pain in your chest. “No next time”, you said lightly, your voice a little raspy from the effort. “You’re officially on a sex ban until further notice”.

Ben’s eyebrows shot up like you’d slapped him. “A what now?”, he barked, genuinely offended, like you’d just told him Christmas was canceled.

You chuckled under your breath, hissing slightly as it pulled at your ribs, and tried to wave him off. “Doctor’s orders”, you said, smug. “I’m fragile, remember?”.

Ben muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Bullshit”, but he didn’t argue, not really. Instead, he shook his head, grumbling as he grabbed your clothes from the chair and crouched down in front of you.

You gave him a withering look, but he was already helping you, his hands surprisingly deft as he started easing you back into your clothes. Every touch was gentle, careful in a way that made your heart ache worse than your ribs.

He tugged your top down carefully over your shoulders, frowning in concentration like he was disarming a bomb, muttering under his breath the whole time.

“This is bullshit. You’re tougher than half the assholes I fought in World War II”, he grumbled. “Sprained ribs my ass”.

You couldn’t help yourself, you grinned through the ache. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I sprain a few of your ribs next time? See how you like it?”.

Ben snorted, brushing your hair out from under your collar with a tenderness that made your chest tight for an entirely different reason. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you tried”, he said, flashing you that cocky smirk, the one that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once.

You narrowed your eyes. “Wanna bet?”.

He let out a low laugh, then leaned down, his forehead bumping gently against yours. For a second, he just stayed there, breathing you in, grounding both of you in the middle of the sterile hospital chaos. “Nah”, he murmured. “You’re dangerous enough already, doll”.

About an hour later, you were sprawled out carefully on Ben’s leather couch, one of his shirts hanging off your body, way too big, way too soft, and an ice pack balanced awkwardly against your bruised ribs.

You sighed, shifting slightly to get comfortable, wincing at the dull, deep ache that pulsed with every movement. The apartment smelled like whiskey, leather, and Ben, a scent so familiar and stupidly comforting that you almost forgot how much you hated being injured in the first place. Almost.

Footsteps echoed from the kitchen, heavy and sure, and then Ben appeared, a glass of whiskey clutched in one hand and a determined look on his face like he was about to win a war. “Here”, he said, handing the glass over with a kind of gentleness that would’ve shocked anyone who didn’t know him better.

You raised an eyebrow as you accepted it, feeling the cool glass against your fingers. “Pretty sure alcohol isn’t in the medical pamphlet, Nurse Ben”.

He snorted, dropping heavily into the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, one arm slung lazily over the backrest. “Yeah, well, they also said no ‘strenuous activity’, and we both know that’s bullshit too”.

You gave him a look, taking a slow sip of the whiskey — it burned down your throat, warm and sharp, but it did take the edge off the pain a little.

Ben watched you the whole time, gaze sharp and calculating. Protective. Like he was mentally trying to will your ribs back together just by glaring hard enough.

You settled back against the couch with a soft groan, cradling the ice pack against your side. “You know you don’t have to babysit me”, you mumbled, closing your eyes for a second.

There was a beat of silence. Then the couch dipped under his weight as Ben got up and sat right beside you, his knee brushing yours, his presence so big and solid it made you feel safer instantly. “You’re outta your fucking mind if you think I’m leavin’ you alone like this”, he said gruffly, voice low. “You’re hurt ‘cause of me. I’m not goin’ anywhere”.

You peeked up at him through your lashes, warmth curling low in your chest, unrelated to the whiskey this time.

He caught you looking and smirked, reaching out to tug at the hem of his shirt hanging on you. “Looks good on you”, he muttered, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

You shook your head, smiling tiredly. “Sap”.

Ben let out a soft chuckle, one hand still idly tugging at the oversized shirt you were wearing like he couldn’t help himself. "Shut up", he teased, flashing you a boyish smirk that would've been disarming if he weren't such a giant menace most of the time. "You like it. Don’t pretend you don’t".

You snorted, trying not to jostle your ribs. "Yeah, I just love being broken and babied".

He shrugged unapologetically. "You should. Not everyone gets the honor of my excellent bedside manner, sweetheart".

Ben watched you for a second longer, then stood with a grunt, cracking his knuckles. "Stay there", he ordered unnecessarily. "Gonna make you somethin’ to eat".

You stared after him, amused and vaguely terrified. "Ben, you can’t cook".

"Can't be that hard", he shot over his shoulder as he stomped toward the kitchen like he was going to war.

You snickered, nestling deeper into the couch, ice pack balanced carefully, already mentally preparing yourself for whatever culinary disaster he was about to create in the name of taking care of you. Because, well… it was Ben. And even when he was a complete disaster, he was still yours.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[aventurineswife]

hi hi!! can i request hsr men (aventurine, dr ratio, and any of ur choice <3) with a s/o who is an over-apologizer? no need if u dont feel comfortable just in case but thank u in advance 💙

I'm so sorry!!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Over-Apologizing!Reader, Gentle Reassurance, Soft Moments, Emotional Support, Romantic Undertones.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin dancing on his lips as he watched you flounder before him, your hands wringing in an anxious motion. He couldn’t help but find your constant apologies both endearing and, at times, amusing.

"Are you... apologizing again?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with a playful smile. You, blushing, nodded repeatedly, as though your incessant apologies would somehow make up for the minor mishap you'd caused.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you late. I’m so sorry I knocked over the coffee earlier—again. I can’t believe I did that. I promise, I’ll be more careful next time," you rambled, looking anywhere but directly at Aventurine, who was still smirking, seemingly entertained by your flustered state.

Aventurine leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. "My dear, you do realize I don’t mind a bit of chaos, especially when it’s you causing it. You’re an over-apologizer, yes, but that’s part of what makes you... you. And I must admit, I enjoy seeing this side of you. It’s rather charming."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. You’d expected a scolding, not praise. Aventurine continued, his tone softening, though the smile never left his face.

"You don’t have to apologize for every little thing. I’m not the kind to hold grudges. If anything, you should only apologize when you truly mean it. Until then, just be yourself. I’ve already invested too much in you to let something like a spilled cup of coffee bother me."

You blushed at his reassurance, the knot in your stomach loosening. Aventurine’s words were always laced with layers of truth and care, though veiled in his typical flair. Still, you appreciated it deeply.

"Thank you..." you muttered shyly.

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "No need to thank me. But you might want to apologize... just once more. For making me wait so long." He winked teasingly, and your heart fluttered as you hurried to sit beside him.

Ratio had never been the most patient person. His brilliance was often paired with a sharp tongue, and he had little tolerance for those who didn’t meet his intellectual standards. But when it came to you, something about you made him pause and reconsider his usual cold demeanor.

You had once again apologized for something trivial—this time for knocking over a stack of books on his desk.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I’ll clean it up right away, I promise!" you said, frantically picking up the fallen books with an anxious look in your eyes.

Ratio watched you in silence, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of his desk. His eyes softened slightly as he took in your flustered state. You were always so quick to apologize, to the point where it almost seemed like you didn’t believe he would forgive you for anything.

"Enough," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "There’s no need for this incessant apologizing. It’s a simple mistake, nothing that requires endless regret. You can’t control every little detail, after all. The world is full of chaos, and you can’t simply apologize for every piece of it."

He walked toward you, his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t angry—he never was, not with you. But your over-apologizing did frustrate him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

He tilted your chin up gently with his finger, a gesture that was both comforting and commanding. "I care for you," he said, his tone softer than before. "I’ve seen you apologize for things you don’t need to. When you truly make a mistake, you’ll know it. And when that happens, we’ll deal with it. But for now, stop apologizing for things that aren’t worth it. It’s exhausting, and frankly, it doesn’t suit you."

You nodded, your eyes searching his face for any sign of mockery, but finding none. He was serious, and somehow, it made you feel better.

"Thank you." you murmured.

Ratio gave you a small smile, a rare sight for him. "You’re welcome. Now, let’s get back to those books. I have a new theory to test, and I need your help."

You smiled back, finally feeling like you had permission to just exist without constantly worrying about your mistakes.

Dan Heng's eyes narrowed slightly as he felt you accidentally step onto his tail. He stilled for a moment, trying to suppress his reflex to flinch, and before he could even process the situation, you were already profusely apologizing.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to step on your tail! Are you okay? Please don’t be mad, I—" you babbled, your face flushed with embarrassment as you fretted over the minor accident.

Dan Heng blinked, his tail twitching as he quickly recovered from the initial shock. His expression remained calm, but there was a faint furrow in his brow, and he could see the distress in your eyes. He wasn't the type to get upset over small things, but the way you were carrying on made him feel an odd mix of sympathy and a desire to reassure you.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said softly, his voice steady, but there was a hint of warmth in it that only you seemed to notice. "It was an accident. My tail’s fine."

Your eyes widened as you processed his words, still unsure whether to be more apologetic or relieved. But Dan Heng’s calmness eased the tension in the room, and you realized he wasn’t angry.

"It’s okay," he added, his tone a little softer. "You didn’t mean to, and it doesn’t hurt. Just... be careful next time." He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that made his usual stoic demeanor seem a little less distant.

You, still embarrassed, nodded slowly, the knot in your stomach loosening just a little. "Thank you, Dan Heng. I’ll be more careful."

Dan Heng placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his touch reassuring yet firm. "You don’t need to apologize for every little thing. Life’s full of accidents. Just... don’t overthink it."

For once, you could finally relax, knowing that with Dan Heng, you didn’t have to worry about constantly apologizing for things that weren’t even your fault.

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 3: Gossip

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve always felt like you belonged right at Franco’s side, but as he begins to grow in popularity, you begin to wonder if his world has any place for you. 

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: Hurt/comfort. Use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has major self esteem issues and panic attacks. Appearance of Christian Horner (that man needs his own CW). There is a “manager” character that is not a reference to any of Franco’s IRL managers!

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @xivilivix

A/N: I can’t thank you all enough for all the love you’ve shown on this fic 💙 It’s been incredible. I do want to sincerely apologize for leaving you with all this cliffhanger before I have to take a small hiatus with the holidays haha. I played around a bit with perspective in this chapter, so I hope it still reads clearly! Also, if you want to be added to the tag list, make sure your blog isn’t set to hidden and that you allow tags or else I’ll be unable to do that on my end. As always I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Sip the gossip, drink ‘til you choke

Sip the gossip, burn down your throat

You’re not iconic, you are just like them all

Don’t act like you don’t know 

Austin had been beautiful, and you had written down every word you could describing it. Mexico, however, was a race you wouldn’t exactly want to document.

It started out okay. Franco’s Forbes cover shoot was released, and, as predicted, it blew up the internet. Of course, you were happy for him. But to see the entire world want him almost as much as you wanted him was…disheartening.

For a long time, it had just been you and Franco. He had clawed his way up and earned everything he had achieved through hard work and unmatchable determination. You were his biggest fan and supporter. And it was just you and him against the odds.

You had been so happy for him to make it to F1 after all he’d worked for. And to see the world embrace him so wholeheartedly was beautiful. But you were scared, deep down, that you’d lose him in the glitz and glamor of pilot stardom. 

His place at Williams was only temporary, of course, but you knew that when he did eventually get a secure seat, your friendship would have to change. After all, you couldn’t fly around the world with him forever. But you figured you’d adapt, like you always did. It would all be okay in the end. Franco never gave you any reason to believe that you’d get left behind. 

That is, until Mexico. 

You barely saw him at the beginning of the week, with him being so busy filming for brand sponsorships. Come the weekend, a phone call from home had soured his mood. You let it be, knowing that now was the time to just support him in any way you could, even if that was just giving him space.

But on Saturday he had woken up feeling better, and you were happy, thinking that he’d turn this weekend around for the better. Mexico was full of Argentine fans, and again, you were both ecstatic for him and feeling a bit left behind. You weren’t from Argentina. You didn’t really speak Spanish. These random fans had that connection with him that you’d never have. 

You pushed it down—for now. You’d write about it later. 

But now you were on your way to Williams hospitality to meet Franco. He was beaming when you’d seen him at breakfast that morning. Some big Argentine musicians were coming to the paddock.

You would have been happier for him if he had introduced you to them. But now you sat in hospitality with Franco and the group, and they all completely ignored you. Franco hadn’t even introduced you.

Yes, you were naturally on the quieter side. Yes, you didn’t speak Spanish, which they now all excitedly talked in, laughing about something you’d never know. But did that really mean that you deserved to sit there, awkwardly glancing at your phone as your best friend ignored you?

And all the while, he was glancing over to the female singer sat opposite him. God, she was beautiful. And from Franco’s tone, you could tell he thought so too. He was flirting with her right in front of you.

Yes, you were just friends. But you had slept in his bed with him curled up into your side. He had celebrated every win with you since you were teenagers. But right now, you were nothing.

You just kind of stared off into the distance until you saw a familiar face. Lily to the rescue! She came over and waved to Franco and the group, who stopped their conversation for a brief second to wave back. 

“Hey YN, wanna come help us film a video?” she asked. Clearly this was just an out to help you escape the torture of being ignored. 

“Sure,” you agreed. When you got up to leave, Franco didn’t even acknowledge you. 

You and Lily walked into the garage. “Thank you for helping me out there.”

“Yeah, you looked like you were going through it. Were they that bad?”

“Well, I don’t know. Franco never even introduced me and I don’t speak Spanish.”

“So he just ignored you? That’s so rude,” he said, her face grimacing, “I’m sorry.”

You just shrugged and offered her a weak smile. There was that unspoken recognition from both of you; Franco had ignored you to flirt with the singer. She was everything you weren’t: beautiful, popular, confident. 

“Well, come hang with me and Alex. I’ll teach you how to make a tiktok,” she said.

You were surprised that her excuse hadn’t been an excuse at all—she actually wanted your company, unlike someone else. 

You went out to the pit lane to meet Alex. Fans were cheering from the sidelines. They were all screaming for Alex, of course, but a few yelled for Lily too. And one yelled for you. 

“YN! YN!” the girl yelled, Argentine flag in her grasp. Your head turned.  “YN! Can I get a picture with you?” she asked. 

You paused. “You want a picture with me?” 

She smiled. “Yes, if that’s okay.” You laughed, not mocking her, but just unsure to do with the absurdity of it all. 

“Of course,” you said, smiling for the camera. “I wasn’t trying to be rude,” you explained, “I’m just surprised you knew me.”

“Oh, we all know you. Everyone’s seen the videos of you and Franco. You all are so cute!” You knew what she meant—your friendship with him was endearing, you had to admit. But the reminder of him felt like a sharp dagger to the heart. Lily called you over, so you bid goodbye to the fan, an odd feeling settling in your chest. That could be unpacked later.

But later was sooner than you anticipated. You had a great time making videos with Lily and Alex, but they had gone to get lunch before qualifying, and you couldn’t find Franco anywhere. So you went to his driver’s room, and finding that even empty, you just gave up and stayed there. He had told you that his room was fair game to hide in if you ever felt overwhelmed, and you definitely did. Now that you were alone, all the emotions were rushing to the surface. 

So you opened your notebook to write.

I can’t believe Franco didn’t even introduce me to anyone this morning. I get it, I’m not like them. I’m not talented or famous or as beautiful as that girl is. God, she’s perfect. She’s everything a man could want. Why would Franco ever want someone like me? I’m just an anxious, dependent mess. I don’t blame him for flirting with her. I just wish he wouldn’t do it in front of me. 

You were spiraling, and soon enough tears came to your eyes. You tried to blink them away but it was futile. You felt like you were losing your best friend.

But, speak of the devil, he was at the door. 

“Oh, YN, I was looking for you,” he said absentmindedly as he walked in the room and fiddled with his helmet. “You left your phone in the garage, Lily has it.”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. It seemed like you were developing a habit of losing things. You got up to meet Lily in the garage, making a mental note to stop at the bathroom to take a breather. You prayed that Franco wouldn't look at you, but today was your unlucky day, it seemed. As you walked out, he looked up and his eyes met yours, and you saw the concern dawn in his eyes. He moved to say something, but you just quickened your pace, and ignored him when you did hear him call after you. 

You found the nearest bathroom and broke down, allowing yourself to just cry it out for a few minutes. Your thoughts kept spiraling. You were ridiculous, you thought, breaking down over something so small. You were pathetic. No wonder he didn’t want you. Why would anyone? 

After a few minutes, you took a few deep breaths and steadied yourself and tried to make it look as if you hadn’t been crying. Qualifying would be starting soon. You quickly grabbed your phone from Lily, who thankfully didn’t say anything about your clearly post-sobbing session face, and you found a comfortable spot in the back of the garage to watch qualifying. 

He qualified 15th. Not great. Nothing to elicit a celebratory hug, though, God, you needed one right now. 

You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and sleep away the weariness. So that’s what you did, skillfully avoiding Franco’s eye scanning the paddock for you.

When you got back to the hotel, you could barely change into your pajamas and get in the bed. You felt heavy like a block of lead. You checked your phone before bed, seeing that Franco had taken a photo with the musicians and posted it to Instagram. 

It was taken after you left, of course. As if you were never there at all.

The sight brought another wave of tears. You sighed in frustration and cried until the weight of it all lulled you to sleep.

The next morning, you didn’t even want to go to the grand prix. As you got up and tidied where you had gotten back and just thrown things around last night, you contemplated what to do.

On one hand, you wanted to support Franco even if you were upset. On the other hand, you thought you might burst into tears if you saw him again.

You just needed to write it out, and then you’d be able to face him. You grabbed your bag and fished around for your journal.

It was gone.

Shit.

Then you remembered, you had left it in his driver’s room yesterday. You groaned.

You checked your phone, intending to text him about it, only to find that he had already texted you last night while you were asleep. Just a simple, You okay? but you hadn’t answered. 

Frantic, you called him. He answered immediately. 

“Hey YN, you—”

“Have you seen my journal?”

“What?”

“My journal. I accidentally left it in your driver’s room yesterday.”

“No? I don’t remember seeing it.”

“Shit…” you whispered. Tears pricked in your eyes yet again. 

“I’m on my way to the track, I’ll check when I get there and ask the team about it,” he assured. “We’ll find it.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice dry. 

“Look, are you okay? You just disappeared yesterday—”

“I’m fine,” you lied. He knew you were lying. 

“YN, talk to me. Please.” His voice was soft with genuine concern, but it pissed you off. There was no way he could know he was the cause of your upset if you didn’t tell him. But you just couldn’t. Not now, at least.

“Can I just meet you at your driver’s room to look for it?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.” You hung up the call.

You had calmed yourself down a bit before you reached the track, but it was no use when you met Franco at his room and found it empty. The desk where you had set yesterday to write looked strangely devoid of life. 

You all wordlessly continued to look for a while, and even went around asking the Williams employees about it, but it was no use. It was gone. 

When you returned back to the room, defeated, you couldn’t help but cry. 

For fear of embarrassment, you'd never cried in front of Franco before, but you didn’t even have the capacity to try and hide it anymore. At first he looked startled, like he didn’t know what to do. But as you crumpled onto the small couch and he saw your body wracked with sobs, he knew all he could do was hold you.

So that’s what he did. 

His touch was warm and comforting, but it just made you weep all the more. He just held you tighter, and you were enveloped in the smell of his cologne. “It’s okay,” he whispered gently to you, “I’m here.”

When the sobs finally left you, he looked in your tear-stained eyes and asked, “Will you talk to me?”

You had never wanted to do anything less. But you knew that these were the moments that counted. Your journal had become a crutch rather than a tool—now was the time to actually do the hard work to get better. 

You began, “It’s stupid—” 

“I want to know anyway,” he assured.

You paused, then resumed, “It just really hurt me yesterday when you didn’t introduce me to anyone.”

He made a confused face at you. “I didn’t?” 

“No, Franco, you didn’t,” you said, your tone getting angrier. “You were too busy flirting with that singer to notice that I was sitting there alone.”

“She asked about you, though. I told her you were just a friend.”

Ouch. Just a friend. 

“I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” he assured, but it felt hollow. 

“It doesn’t feel like it when Lily has to come rescue me from being ignored all day.”

“I’m sorry, YN. I didn’t even realize it, I was just caught up in the conversation. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I just felt like an intruder. I mean… I’m not a famous musician or anyone important in Formula 1. I’m not from Argentina, I don’t speak Spanish—”

He cut you off, “So? And you know my mother would adopt you in a heartbeat.”

You were unamused by his attempt at banter. “So, it just hurts because I don’t belong here. And when you ignore me, I’m just alone.”

He paused. “YN, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He continued, “But for the record, I was not flirting with anyone. You know the main reason I spend time with all these people is for the brand, right?”

You looked confused. “The brand? Since when do you care about your brand?” Franco was known for being impossible to media train. Why was he suddenly so concerned with his public reputation?

Even though you were alone in his driver’s room, he looked over his shoulder, listening out for any approaching footsteps. But you all were truly alone in the quiet morning at the paddock. “You have to promise to keep it quiet,” he said.

“I promise,” you whispered.

He leaned in closer. “There’s a chance, a very small chance, but a chance…that I could get a contract with Redbull next year.”

Your eyes widened. He continued, “Checo has been driving so bad that they want him out. But he brings in a lot of money and it’ll cost a lot to break my Williams contract. I need to show them that I can have just as much backing in Argentina as Checo has in Mexico.”

You were practically speechless. “Oh my God, Franco, that’s…”

But Franco was more worried about you. “The people are all nice enough, but I’d prefer your company over theirs any day. You’re still my best friend.”

The tears that threatened to fall now were happy ones, from pride in your best friend and the love you felt for him. 

You confessed, “I hope you get it. But I’m so scared that I’ll be left behind and forgotten.”

He reached to hold you again and you let him. “Never,” he said, “never. You’ve been here since the beginning, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

You both broke the embrace and he wiped a tear from your cheek. The soft touch sent shivers down your spine.

“Thank you,” you said. 

He smiled at you. “No, thank you for opening up to me. You ready for the race today?”

You nodded, “Always.”

He didn’t score any points, but the points weren’t the point anymore. Your conversation earlier had made you feel so close to him in a way you never had before. You watched the screens in the garage with a religious reverence, looking into his eyes when the camera switched to face him. They were focused, like the only things in the world were him, the car, and the track ahead. And for you, that was all there was in the world, too.

Your celebration after the race was more subdued, but nonetheless supportive. As he walked to the media tent, you all glanced at each other and you mouthed to him proud of you. He winked back.

You all had fallen into a familiar routine of dinner together and winding down in his hotel room, and tonight was no different. Again you all found yourselves in the same positions: him, cross legged on the bed, and you in the chair near him. 

The atmosphere was a bit tense though. Being back at the hotel, you couldn’t help but remember the horrible morning, and what you had lost—your journal. Who would have thrown away a journal from his driver's room? You had asked around the paddock again after the race and no one had seen it.

Or maybe it hadn’t been thrown away. Maybe someone took it.

Your mind wandered back to the last few conversations with Franco: your “stolen” lipstick, his asking to read the journal…

No. He wouldn’t. That’d cross a line.

But weren’t the contents of the journal crossing a line themselves?

Franco noticed how you’d gone quieter since you got home from the paddock. You all were both exhausted.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, lazily tracing circles in the comforter.

You responded with your own question. “Franco, will you be honest with me?”

He looked up at you, his face hardened with concern. “Of course.” He looked nervous. 

“Do you have my journal?”

He shifted his gaze away from you. “No,” he said, simple as that. 

“Franco,” you began, “listen to me. I’m not mad, but you understand how this looks, right? I know we joke about this kind of stuff a lot, but you asked to read it and then it suddenly disappears after I left it in your driver’s room.”

“I didn’t even go back to the room after you left,” he said.

“Maybe not. But you got there this morning before I did. And now it’s gone.”

He paused. “You really think I’d steal your diary?”

The situation had become too tense for your liking. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything,” you explained, “and I promise, I’m not mad. I just… there’s some things in there that are too personal for me to share with anyone, even you.”

“YN, I don’t have it.”

“Okay. I’m just saying, if you happen to find it, please promise me that you won’t read it. Please,” you quite literally begged. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, YN. You know I was joking when I asked to read it, right?”

He wasn’t joking. Both of you knew that. And both of you knew that he had taken the diary.

You hoped that he would understand what you asked and respect your wishes. In a few days he’d text you saying that a Williams employee had randomly found it—another lie—and he would give it back to you, unread. And your friendship would go on like nothing had ever happened.

But what if it didn’t? What if he read every filthy word you had written about him?

You thought it through over and over later that night, back in your own room but unable to sleep. So you made a plan.

You and Franco, thankfully, would be on the same flight to Brazil. When you landed and went to the hotel, you’d swap out your room keys and go to his room while he did his media duties. Then, you’d find the journal in his room and take it back.

A few problems with the plan. One, It gave him the first 3 days of the week to read it, and two, it was fucking unhinged of you to go through your best friend’s stuff. 

You rolled over and angrily groaned into the pillow. 

Brazil was going to be an interesting time. 

Well, interesting was the understatement of the century.

It began on the flight, a flight that was way too fucking long. Thankfully, Franco had arranged for you to take this one together, so at least you had his company. 

You could never sleep on planes, they were too loud and uncomfortable. Franco usually did, but today it seemed he couldn’t; he bounced his legs and darted his eyes around the plane.

“Nervous?” you asked.

“Very,” he answered honestly. “There’s just so much going on this weekend.”

“I know,” you said reassuringly rather than condescendingly. “You really should try to get some rest though. It’s been a long few weeks for you.”

“I can’t. I’m too wired up.”

You felt an unexpected boldness come over you. “Close your eyes,” you directed, “and take a few deep breaths. Stay still.” 

He obeyed, and you grabbed his hand from the armrest between you and held it in yours. You felt him tense at the unexpected touch, but you slowly began to trace circles into his palm with your thumb, and he relaxed into it. With his own boldness, he placed his head on your shoulder and exhaled. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. You knew from experience that he’d be asleep for the rest of the flight, so you let yourself get comfortable with the familiar weight of your sleeping best friend pressing into your side.

Slivers of sunlight from the window traced the soft edges of his sleeping form. Even when unconscious, he was beautiful. If you truly wanted to, you could have turned ever so slightly and kissed his forehead without waking him. And God, you truly wanted to.

So you did, gently pressing your lips to the smooth surface of his skin. Maybe this was crossing a line, but it seemed like, at this point, all lines had been crossed between you two.

His presence calmed you enough that you were able to fall asleep, too. When you woke a few hours later, he was still fast asleep by your side, and you savored the moment.

But deep down you wondered how long this would last. You were head over heels in love with him. He was… well, you didn’t know how he felt. But he was your best friend in the entire world. He knew almost everything there was to know about you. 

He had four races left in F1. Four races until you would go back to your day to day lives; still intertwined, but not this close. And if he did get the seat, that you so desperately wanted for him? He’d be gone even more than he already was. You couldn’t follow him around the world forever. He’d go from city to city, race to race, club to club, woman to woman.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of him with another woman. You remembered the singer in Austin, how he said he wasn’t flirting with her, it was for the brand, whatever excuse he could come up with. You guessed it was true. Or maybe he meant that it didn’t really mean anything to him. Just playing up that side of him that the media absolutely loved. His Argentine charm was undeniable. 

Okay, then maybe it was true. Everyone knew Franco was a flirt, you especially. But it made it so much harder to determine, then, what was truly meaningful to him and what wasn’t. 

But your friendship meant something to him, right? He had asked you to come along to all his races. He made time for you in the midst of the paddock’s chaos. You had slept in the same bed. He held you when you cried. And now, he slept peacefully on your shoulder, hands still intertwined. How could that not mean something?

You didn’t want your fears of the future to make you miss out on the present. At some point you’d have to open up to him. But that moment wasn’t right now. 

And you were determined that you’d be the one in control, so when you landed and made it to the hotel, you enacted your plan you’d concocted earlier. When the receptionist handed you the keys, you waited until Franco was fiddling with your luggage to switch out two, making sure to hand him the correct key. He would never need to know that the other key in the little paper pocket was the key to your room, and if he did, he’d just assume there was an issue. A natural cover.

Okay, maybe you were smart and smooth with it. 

You knew you wouldn’t see much of Franco in Brazil. With stakes this high, he had an overwhelming amount of team meetings and media duties. Still, as usual, you all made your way to the paddock together. 

The energy was electric—in good ways and bad. Good: there were so many Argentine fans that you often found yourself questioning what country you were in. The amount of support was unreal. And each one of them were proud of Franco—but not as proud as you were.

Bad: Literally everything else.

But that was yet to come. You entered the paddock to a flurry of camera shots and a cacophony of voices yelling for Franco. 

Usually you liked to stay out of the shot of cameras, but it was impossible here. Franco did his best to draw their attention towards him and away from you, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.

As you all passed a group of fans, one in particular caught your eye. She was holding out two bracelets. “Franco, YN!” she called out. 

You both stopped to speak to her. “I made you all bracelets,” she said, handing one to you and the other to Franco. You read the beads: it had Franco’s name, number, and blue hearts. You smiled at the adorable gesture. 

“Oh,” Franco said, looking at you, “This one has your name on it. Let’s switch.”

As he moved his hand to do so, the fan said, “No, they’re supposed to be like that. They’re friendship bracelets for you all!”

“Thank you,” you said, unsure if the warmth of your cheeks was a soft blush forming or from the chaos around you. The fan had wanted you to wear each other’s names.

You kept walking, but when you were out of eyeshot, you offered to switch the bracelets around again, thinking the implication was a little too much for him. He refused, keeping your name around his wrist.

He went off to wherever he needed to be, and you went to William’s hospitality to find Lily, but unfortunately, she wasn’t in Brazil at all.

Maybe, in hindsight, what you did next was a terrible decision. But you did it anyway. 

You made your way to Franco’s drivers room for some privacy and pulled up your social media, looking to see what people were saying about him. 

Ever since he had confided about his potential for a seat next year, you had also cared about his brand, too. And, officially or unofficially, you were a part of that. Like Lily had told you, people were speculating. You just hoped that what she said about the people loving you was true. 

Fortunately, it was. 

Franco and YN being obliviously in love with each other; a thread

You tapped on the post, reading your way through the comments.

Does YN know that she’s living our dream?

Oh to be YN, being loved by Franco like that.

Need someone to look at me the way YN and Franco look at each other.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love YN, but Franco should be with an Argentine girl. They’d be a power couple. 

The comment soured your mood. You kept reading anyway.

Guys, I met YN in Austin and she was so sweet! Our girl is chronically offline because she was so surprised that I even knew who she was and like, girl, WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!!

You smiled, the memory of the girl in Austin coming back to your mind. 

I love how we have all collectively decided to adopt YN as the newest wag even though her and Franco aren’t even dating 

You laughed to yourself, remembering how Lily had mistaken you for a wag when you first talked. Maybe that was the reason why.

You read the replies: 

To be fair, you don’t look at someone like that unless you LOVE LOVE them

Does anyone else think this is weird tho? I mean, they're just friends but the entire internet wants them to get together, must make things so awkward…

Honestly I’m glad they’re not together because if my bf flirted with other women the way Franco flirts with reporters, I’d throw the whole man away

You snorted. Of course, these random people on the internet didn’t know you, but they seemed to get inside your head a little too much for comfort. Or maybe you just weren’t as good at hiding your emotions as you always thought you were. 

Speaking of hiding your emotions, you had a job to do. Checking your clock, you knew that Franco was going to be busy for the next 3 hours before you all had planned to meet up again. He had a very important meeting with Christian Horner. Your heart skipped a beat and you said a silent prayer for your friend.

But now, you have a mission. You were going to get your journal back.

It would have been an easy task, if not for the fans. Thankfully you got out and into an uber undetected, but upon opening the door to his room, you cursed them in your head.

Gifts were everywhere. His team must have been gathering them all week, and Franco clearly wasn’t organizing them. 

You thought 3 hours would be more than enough to leave, find your journal, return it to your room, and get back to the paddock unnoticed. Maybe, you thought wrong. This was going to be a long 3 hours. 

As you searched, back at the paddock, Franco sat in the meeting that would decide the course of the rest of his life. His leg bounced uncontrollably, his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was going to throw up his breakfast. 

He wished you were here. Your presence always calmed him in moments like these; he had no idea where you were, and the intimidating presence of Christian Horner across the table did nothing to ease his nerves. 

“I’ve got to admit,” Horner said, “he’s exceeded everyone’s expectations. But a couple good races doesn’t tell us much.”

Franco’s manager replied, “Of course, we understand. But he’s got more than enough of a fanbase to rival any driver. I mean, just look outside and it’s a sea of Argentine flags!”

“Fans are good, but does that translate to sponsors? I mean, you’ve got to compete with Disney here. Not every driver can bring in that level of support.”

“We’ve gotten some strong sponsors recently, and a lot more in the works currently. Franco’s future is promising.”

“What about his PR? Any disasters there?” Horner laughed.  

Franco’s manager, however, did not. “He’s good. The fans love him, and he knows when to shut up.”

Franco suppressed a laugh. Anyone who had been around him for more than 5 minutes knew that he was a PR nightmare. And it seemed Horner knew it too.

“Now, that’s not what I’ve heard,” he said. “I’ve seen the videos. You strike the balance well for the most part, but you can’t be telling people not to buy Redbull merch.” They all laughed. “And you can’t be bringing your girlfriend to every race.”

Franco’s manager began to speak, but not before Franco cut her off. “My girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, YN isn’t it? As far as I’ve seen, the fans like her, but if she’s constantly around they’ll get fatigued. Again, it’s a delicate balance.”

“YN isn’t my girlfriend.” The sentence felt…odd, as Franco said it with a matter of fact tone.

“Oh, even better. We can get you with an Argentinian woman, then. Maximize that market.”

“A PR relationship? Those are real?” Franco questioned, and Horner laughed, as if Franco was the dumbest one in the room, and he certainly felt like it. 

“Not really. Just be seen a few times, like some posts, maybe go to events together if you wanna really get serious about it. Generate talk, you know.”

“Isn’t that what happens with YN now anyway? I mean, everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

“Yeah, but she’s nobody. No offense,” Horner said, as if his comment held no weight. “But with a celebrity or model? That really gets people talking. A little controversy is good.”

Franco felt sick to his stomach. She’s nobody. But she was somebody, to him. She was his best friend. 

“Look, kid,” Horner began, “I agree that you’ve got promise, but it’s too early to make any decisions right now. Show us what you’ve got in these last few races, and maybe we can work something out.”

Everyone rose to exchange polite goodbyes and handshakes. Franco felt like he was in a totally different plane of existence.

His manager came over to him afterwards. “You did well, Franco. We’ll just do as he said—keep focused, get results, and keep your head down. Seriously, watch it with the media.”

Franco nodded absentmindedly, but his manager wasn’t happy with that response. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Franco began, “Look, a PR relationship, seriously? And he’s telling me I can’t have my best friend in the paddock?”

“I think YN will survive if she doesn’t come to every single race.”

“But I want her here with me. I don’t want to hurt her.” He remembered Austin, holding you while you cried, afraid that he’d leave you behind. And here push had come to shove. 

His manager looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously, Franco, this is what you're focused on? You have a shot at a seat with Redbull, and you’re more focused on not hurting YN’s feelings? How do you expect to achieve this with that attitude?” 

Franco was upset now. “Don’t say that. Even Horner said I’ve been exceeding expectations.”

“I know you have, and we’re all proud of you. But you need to stay focused. Leave the women alone.”

“YN is not just a random woman, she’s my best friend.”

His manager’s frustration was growing by the second. “I know Franco. I know you love her, we all love her. But she is not your priority right now. Your future is, okay?” 

Hearing those words felt like a rollercoaster, complete with the euphoric highs and stomach churning lows. I know you love her—well, it was true, you were his best friend. But what kind of love? He didn’t know, and besides, the low—she is not your priority right now—he didn’t have the time or space to find out. 

He had a job to do.

All the while, you also had a job to do, but you were failing spectacularly. You had searched every square inch of that fucking room. You looked in every nook and cranny, every pocket and pouch, under the covers and even in the bathroom. Your journal wasn’t there. 

There was no way Franco was this good at hiding anything (other than emotions, maybe). You now had to entertain the possibility that you had been wrong all along.

Maybe he didn’t have the journal. Maybe you had just accused him of lying and shown that you don’t really trust your best friend. 

You let out a frustrated groan as you put everything back in place. You couldn’t believe it. 

If he didn’t have the journal, then where was it?

It was a question you’d have to answer later, because right now you were racing to reconfigure his room and get back to the paddock before anyone noticed that you were gone. 

You barely made it in time, arriving at the Williams garage with your body in fight or flight mode. You spotted Franco instantly.

“YN! There you are,” he said. “I thought I lost you.”

“Oh yeah, I was with some fans.” The lie just slipped out without you having to think about it. You’d never done that before—who were you becoming?

Franco looked confused. “You were? Since when do you willingly leave the paddock?” he questioned, clearly joking.

“Since I have to help the brand,” you smiled. “By the way, how did the meeting go?”

He just replied, “Good.” 

Franco was never a man of few words, so his hesitancy to speak was a red flag.

“Top secret?” you asked, thankfully giving him an out.

“Yeah, it’s… complicated.” 

“Well, you know I’m always here rooting for you,” you said, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. The gesture sent shivers down your spine.

Seriously, who were you becoming?

The next day didn’t make the situation any easier. The morning sprint had granted Franco another 12th place finish—no points, but still respectable. At least, it was to you. You could tell that he wasn’t happy. You knew that he pushed himself too hard, because how else would he be able to achieve, but it still broke your heart. You assumed that the meeting yesterday hadn’t been the greatest, and you wished that Franco would talk to you about it. But he didn’t. That was okay, you’d done the same to him before. You just wanted to be there to support him, even if it meant being on the sidelines, in the dark both physically and metaphorically.

And the darkness was looming over Interlagos. The forecast was horrific. The reality was even more horrific. 

As the rain poured down in sheets, you silently said a prayer for all the poor souls with General Admission tickets who must be swimming right now. You were nice and dry under the paddock, thankfully, but outside it was practically a monsoon.

Everyone knew qualifying would get postponed, it was just a matter of time until a final decision would be made. The atmosphere was tense—a championship battle loomed in the distance between Max and Lando, and Franco would be driving for his life. 

But as the hours passed and the rain continued, the energy around the paddock loosened up. You saw Lando and Oscar at the gates waving to fans, George jumping in puddles, Ollie taking naps against the warm tires. 

So, of course, Franco would enjoy his time too.

His manager stood in the back corner of the garage, talking with one of the media interns. Looking at her, Franco felt his frustration return. He had never been the stubborn type. But since making it to Formula 1, he had been told what to do left and right. Go here, say this, don’t do that. It pissed him off. 

He was going to do what he wanted to, at least this once. 

Of course, you were oblivious to all of this. You didn’t know what to make of it when he walked onto the pit lane, exposing himself to the elements. Within seconds his fluffy curls were flattened and he would be dripping in rainwater when he came back into the garage. 

“YN!” he called into the garage. “Come dance with me!” 

You looked up from your phone, and the garage around you was still buzzing, but you could feel everyone’s necks craning to listen and look upon whatever antics Franco was up to.

You just laughed and shook your head. You weren’t getting out in that mess.

But you didn’t have a choice. Franco marched his way up to the garage and yanked you out. 

You yelped his name playfully as he dragged you to the middle of the pitlane and put his arms around your waist. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him through your widening smile.

“Dancing. Having fun,” he answered. His arms stayed around your waist, too close to be platonic.

You turned to the crowd of fans in the grandstand in the distance. “We have an audience. Is this good for the brand?” 

It would seem ‘the brand’ was becoming a running bit, until Franco shut it down. “Fuck the brand. Dance with me.”

He pulled you closer, the only thing separating you being the layers of clothes that were thinning with the rain. He spun you and you all danced back and forth, giggling when you splashed in the  puddles swiftly gathering around you. 

And then he dipped you. The world felt like it stopped for a moment. You were suspended in air, an electric warmth between you and your best friend, the only two people in the world.

He brought you back up and you both stopped. Your eyes met for what must have only been a split second. It was like all at once, all the love you had for him flooded your heart, stronger than the unrelenting rain. 

Everything about him was beautiful. His arms wrapped around your waist, his eyes now looking at your lips—

He was going to kiss you.

That is, until his manager yelled at you both from inside the garage. “Franco! Quit fucking around and get in here!”

The moment was ruined.

You both sheepishly returned to the garage. Your anxiety had faded in that perfect moment with him, but had now returned with a vengeance upon hearing the frustration of his manager. Luckily, everyone else in the garage seemed to not care. But Franco looked like a kid getting called to the principal’s office at school.

Before you even got back in the garage, you turned to him and said, “Franco, I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, I—”

He cut you off. “You didn’t get me in trouble,” he joked, “I got myself in trouble. Don’t worry about it. You can shower in my driver’s room, I should have a spare sweater in there. I’ll try to meet you there.”

You nodded as you went your separate ways.

You did as Franco said, having a quick shower and doing your best to dry your hair in his driver’s room. You grabbed the spare Williams quarter zip he had and slid it on, relishing in the warmth and the smell of his cologne. You felt safe here, quiet and alone, knowing that he’d come meet you when he could. You scrolled on your phone to pass the time.

Of course, it had only been minutes and you all had already gone viral.  

You tapped on the post of a gossip page.

Williams driver Franco Colapinto and friend YN seen in Interlagos having a sweet moment dancing in the rain! Although the pair are quoted calling each other just friends, fans continue to speculate about the true nature of their relationship. What do you think? Sound off below!

You scrolled to the comments.

Might as well just make out with her in parc ferme smh

Why are they actually the main characters of a rom com

Sooooooo when is he proposing

YN the woman that you are. I’d ask what we are after being held like that

You smiled. Maybe the internet was starting to grow on you. 

Back in the paddock, Franco was soaked to the bone, shivering, and being scolded by his manager.

“I told you to keep a low profile. What was that stunt?”

“I was just having fun—”

“I know. That’s the problem. You are not here to have fun. You are here to compete.”

“Having fun doesn’t impact my ability to drive,” he said, his voice sharp with anger. “Look, I get that you want what is best for me. But I’m not stupid. Fans love this kind of stuff, they eat it up. And I’m improving every day with my driving. Just let me do what I do best.”

“And you’re doing this purely for the fans?” she asked. They both knew the answer. Franco was silent. She continued, “Franco, she’ll be here at the end of the season no matter what. But this opportunity won't if you don’t focus. You’re distracted.”

“This will be good publicity. The fans like it when I’m flirty.”

“You’re not here to be flirty. You’re here to drive,” she said with a forceful and final tone. She sighed. “The FIA just announced that quali is postponed until tomorrow morning. Go back to the hotel, get some rest, and come back tomorrow ready to perform, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. 

When he finally made it back to his driver’s room, he found you asleep on the small couch. He thought his heart would burst.

Quietly, he took a shower and changed into dry clothes. He sat down and just watched your sleeping frame, taking in how beautiful you were.

But you couldn’t stay here all night. He woke you up by gently brushing your hair out of your face, and you stirred at his touch.

“YN,” he whispered. “Quali is postponed. Time to go.” You sleepily rose and followed him out of the paddock, only fully waking up on the Uber ride back to the hotel.

The drive was quiet, but peaceful. It was dark out, and the rain scattered the light from the street lamps of Sao Paulo. Franco looked out the window, contemplative. It was a side of him you'd never seen before.

You placed your hand in the middle between you two, and wordlessly, he held it in his own.

It was unspoken, this new…thing, between you two. You both knew that something had fundamentally changed. It was a question of who would crack first. 

Franco knew, though, that his manager was right. He needed to focus. He needed to deliver. And you’d be here at the end.

But when he laid in his bed alone later that night, he couldn’t rest. All he could think about was that moment you both had felt, and his eyes that had focused on the soft skin of your lips. How badly he had wanted you in that moment. 

A line had been crossed, yes, but that wasn’t the only one. 

In his backpack, there had been a weight that had hung over him the past few days. A metaphorical one. He had kept it on his person at all times for safekeeping, not wanting to risk anyone finding out what he’d done.

He told himself he wouldn’t do it. But he needed more of you that he couldn’t have—not now, at least. 

But he could have this, right now.

So he sat up in bed, grabbing the small leather diary from the bag, and opened the first page.