#talking points repeated over and over and over again

[pucksandpower]

Rumour Has It

Franco Colapinto x Princess of Norway!Reader

Summary: you’ve never heard of Franco before and Franco has certainly never heard of you … but when gossip magazines decide to set you two up, Franco realizes that he wouldn’t mind making the rumors a reality

“Have you seen this?” Noora says, bursting into your study with a tablet clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and frantic.

You look up, half-expecting the sky to have fallen or for Oslo to be under siege. “Seen what?”

Noora slams the tablet down on your desk, and your face is met with a tabloid headline in bold, obnoxious letters: Norway’s Princess Caught in Secret Romance with Argentinian Racing Prodigy Franco Colapinto!

You blink at the screen, then back at Noora, and then at the screen again, as if maybe the headline might rearrange itself into something more sensible. “Sorry, who?”

“Franco Colapinto!” She says, exasperated. “The Argentine driver — the rookie! In Formula 1!”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know who that is.”

Noora gives you a look that’s somewhere between sympathy and horror. “Okay, well, apparently you’re dating him. And half of Norway seems to think so too, thanks to this article.”

“Dating? Noora, I’ve never even heard of him, let alone met him! And this … this is nonsense!” You shove the tablet back at her, feeling your cheeks flush. “How did this even happen?”

Noora sighs, sliding the tablet away. “It’s the internet. They don’t need facts to build a story — they just need a blurry photo and a wild imagination.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply. “And why didn’t anyone tell me sooner? It’s not like we don’t have a whole team for this.”

“Well, to be fair, it only surfaced last night,” she says, crossing her arms. “But now it’s all over social media, and your name is attached to his. People are actually talking about you two as if you’re the new royal couple.”

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. You’ve spent years cultivating a careful, respectable image — a modern princess who’s still traditional enough to respect the expectations placed on her. And now, you’re supposedly dating a race car driver?

“What exactly are they saying?” You ask, your voice quieter, laced with dread.

Noora hesitates, but you give her a pointed look until she relents. “They’re saying you met him at some secret event in Monaco and that you’ve been hiding your relationship to avoid the media frenzy. Apparently, he’s been visiting Norway on his off-days just to see you.” She snorts. “It’s absurd, really. But people are eating it up.”

You stare at her, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “This cannot be happening.”

“Oh, but it is. And the comments …” She trails off, biting her lip.

“Out with it, Noora.”

She sighs. “Some are saying it’s refreshing that you’re dating someone so … I don’t know, normal. But others …” She winces. “Others think it’s irresponsible. That you’re … well, neglecting your duty for some glamorous fling.”

You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “Neglecting my duty,” you repeat, more to yourself than to her. “Because I’m apparently sneaking off with some Formula 1 driver I’ve never even met.”

“I know,” she says, reaching out and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But it’ll pass. A few days, maybe a week, and they’ll have moved on to the next scandal.”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to imagine it blowing over. “And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then we get PR involved. Make a statement, deny everything.” She pauses, eyeing you with a wary smile. “Or, you know, we could just arrange a very public appearance with you and someone else. Nothing quashes rumors like a little royal romance with a suitable partner.”

Your eyes snap open. “Noora.”

She grins, unphased by your glare. “What? It’s an option.”

“I’m not going to parade around with someone just to make the tabloids happy,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Well, that leaves us with the boring option: addressing it head-on, squashing the rumor, and hoping it dies quickly.”

“That will just make it worse,” you sigh resignedly. “The press will think any denial means we have something to hide.”

Noora nods, still eyeing you cautiously. “You could always lean into it a little — make it sound mysterious.”

“Mysterious?” You echo. “No, Noora. I want it gone. I don’t even know this man!”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, hands raised in surrender. “But you know, you could at least look him up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because people are going to be asking questions. You’re the Princess of Norway. If they think you’re dating him, it would help to know who he is.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she’s already pulling out her phone. “Just … humor me, okay? It’ll take two seconds.”

She taps her screen, and suddenly a series of photos pops up — images of a young man with dark hair and a serious expression, usually in some variation of a racing suit, often holding a helmet. He’s smiling in one photo, a faint smirk in another, but the confident gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.

“He’s twenty-one,” Noora says, scrolling through some text. “Started karting young, worked his way up. Got his big break with Formula 1 this year.”

You try not to look interested, but it’s hard to ignore the pictures flashing by. He has a kind of easy charisma, that much is obvious.

“And look,” she adds, holding up a picture of him on the track, eyes focused, mouth set in a determined line. “He’s pretty talented, apparently.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to look away. “None of this matters. Because I don’t know him, and I’m certainly not dating him.”

Noora smirks. “Doesn’t matter. The media thinks you are, and as far as they’re concerned, that makes it practically true.”

You groan, sinking back in your chair. “So what do I do?”

“For now? Sit tight, let PR work their magic. But you might want to brush up on your Formula 1 knowledge, just in case anyone asks.” She grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Wouldn’t want you to sound unprepared.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for the tablet and skimming the article’s ridiculous details. “He brought me roses on the first date?” You mutter, incredulous. “We had a secret dinner at a villa on the Côte d’Azur? Do they just make this up?”

“Pretty much. And it’s only going to get worse if people keep sharing it.”

You rub your temples, trying to banish the lingering image of Franco’s cocky smile from your mind. “Fantastic. Just what I needed — a fake romance with a twenty-one-year-old race car driver.”

Noora pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Could be worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“It could be real.”

***

Franco is hunched over his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his notifications as he waits for his PR briefing to start. The Williams headquarters is bustling this morning, and he barely notices when the door opens until Abbie, his PR officer, strides in, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Franco, we need to talk,” she says, folding her arms.

He glances up, one eyebrow raised. “Am I in trouble already? That’s got to be a record.”

Abbie sighs. “No, you’re not in trouble. But you’re in … let’s call it a situation.” She pulls up a chair across from him, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets. “Have you seen the news?”

“Can’t say I have,” he replies, half-interested. “What, did Carlos suddenly decide to retire and I get to keep my seat for next season?”

Abbie doesn’t laugh, which is a bit worrying. Instead, she hands him her phone, showing a screen filled with a tabloid headline. Princess Y/N of Norway in Secret Romance with F1’s Newest Rising Star, Franco Colapinto!

His brows furrow as he reads, slowly, taking in the headline, the photos, the fabricated “romantic details.”

“Wait … I’m dating a princess?” He says, breaking into a grin. “And nobody thought to tell me?”

Abbie sighs. “Apparently. They’ve got edited photos, fake details — everything.”

He leans back, intrigued. “Princess Y/N,” he muses, tapping his chin with a thoughtful smirk. “Of Norway?”

“Yes, of Norway.” She leans in closer, her expression serious. “This has gone viral, Franco. Everyone’s talking about it.”

He can’t resist; he grabs his own phone and taps out “Princess Y/N of Norway.” The first few links are about her background, her position in the line of succession. “So, she’s next in line to be queen or something?”

“Second in line,” Abbie corrects. “After her father. She’s a pretty big deal over there.”

Franco’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Second in line. And she’s what … like, forty?”

“Not even close,” Abbie says, exasperated. “She’s around your age, I think. She’s twenty-something.”

Franco looks at her, skeptical. “Twenty-something? And a princess?” He scrolls through images of palaces, state functions, and some photos of you smiling politely at dignitaries. She’s dressed elegantly, impeccably, not a hair out of place.

Then, finally, he finds one candid shot, and he stops scrolling. You’re laughing in the photo, a little windswept, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, your smile bright and entirely un-royal. He smirks.

“All right, all right,” he mutters to himself, still looking at the photo. “She’s pretty cute.” He taps back to the headline with a glint of amusement in his eye. “But still not a MILF.”

Abbie groans. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugs, still looking delighted. “Come on. You know my type. I like them older. But …” He trails off, grinning wider. “I could certainly do worse.”

“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Abbie says, horrified. “Franco, this is a fake rumor. You’re supposed to be distancing yourself from it.”

“Oh, I know. I know.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “But it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? Me, a royal boyfriend?” He leans back, arms crossed, still smirking. “I’m almost flattered.”

Abbie sighs and taps her own phone, clearly typing something in response to the rest of the Williams PR team. “Look, flattered or not, you need to be careful. She’s a public figure. If you say the wrong thing, it’ll just fuel the fire.”

“Oh, please,” he says, waving a hand. “What are they gonna do? Put me on trial?”

“Maybe not you,” Abbie replies, giving him a warning look, “but she has an image to protect. This isn’t just gossip for her — it’s her whole life.”

He lets out a low whistle, thinking. “Must be hard, huh? Everyone expecting you to act a certain way. Not much room for fun.”

Abbie eyes him, her expression softening a bit. “I’m sure it is. Which is why we need to treat this carefully.”

Franco glances back at the photos, his smile fading a bit as he considers. He may not know you, but he can picture the situation well enough: the relentless tabloids, the public judgment, all the expectations.

“All right, fine,” he says, finally. “What’s the plan?”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll be working with her team to prepare a statement. The usual ‘there’s no truth to these rumors’ line. But until then, keep it low-key.”

He raises a brow. “Low-key? Since when have I ever been low-key?”

“Then try for once.” She gives him a pleading look. “It’ll help her out. Trust me.”

Franco nods, though there’s a spark of amusement still flickering in his eyes. He can’t help it — he’s never been one to turn down a little excitement, and this whole thing is exactly that. He glances at Abbie. “So … if someone were to ask about it …”

She narrows her eyes. “Franco. Don’t even think about it.”

He chuckles. “Relax. I’ll be good.”

But as he heads back to the simulator, he can’t resist a smirk.

***

The meeting room is far more understated than you would’ve expected for something of this scale, tucked away in a discreet corner of a private suite in a London hotel. But it’s neutral ground, and it’s quiet, and no one outside this room will ever have to know about this awkward collision of worlds.

You’re early, of course. You’ve been pacing for the last ten minutes, scrolling through every frantic email your team has sent since this ridiculous rumor broke, trying to make sense of the tabloids’ spiraling narrative.

Franco arrives with a small entourage, though it feels like the entire room shifts the moment he steps in. He looks relaxed, perfectly at ease — too at ease. He catches your eye almost immediately, smirking as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this absurd situation to unfold.

“Princess,” he says, as if the word is a private joke just for the two of you. He holds out his hand, that ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes.

You don’t take it, instead clearing your throat and nodding a polite, “Mr. Colapinto.”

He drops his hand, unfazed. “Mr. Colapinto? Ouch. I thought we were past formalities, what with the whole secret romance thing.”

You stare, unamused, but he only laughs, taking a seat at the conference table across from you. He leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, entirely too comfortable.

Abbie enters behind him, followed by Noora and two more of your advisors, who exchange a brief look with you before giving Franco a wary glance. The room feels divided: your side tense, professional; his side relaxed, as if they’re here for afternoon tea.

Noora clears her throat. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to discuss … the situation between Her Royal Highness and Mr. Colapinto.”

Franco raises his hand like a schoolboy. “Just Franco’s fine.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I think it’s important that we treat this with the gravity it deserves.”

“Right,” Franco says, his tone playful. “Like a royal summit.”

Ignoring him, you turn to Noora. “What’s our best option? A joint statement? Something definitive?”

Noora nods, producing a folder from her bag. “Yes, we think a mutual statement from both parties would be the most effective way to dispel the rumors. The tone should be clear, respectful, and leave no room for interpretation.”

Franco grins at you. “So, no room for romance?”

You bite back a sigh. “Exactly.”

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand as if studying you. “Pity. I thought we made a pretty good pair.”

You shift in your seat, folding your hands tightly in front of you. “This isn’t a joke. It’s an issue of public perception, protocol-”

“Protocol,” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Can’t say I’m big on protocol. Haven’t you heard? I’m dating a princess now. Practically makes me royalty, right? Protocol doesn’t apply to me.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Protocol applies to everyone.”

“Boring people,” he counters, grinning wider. “Which, by the way, you are not. I don’t buy it.”

You feel your cheeks flush. “I don’t think you understand the stakes here.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. But, come on …” He gestures to the small group of advisors around the table. “Look at this! Two teams acting like we’re two PR disasters waiting to happen … it’s ridiculous. You would think we were in the middle of an international scandal.”

“We are in the middle of an international scandal,” you say, exasperated. “People think we’re dating. It’s a breach of public trust for both of us-”

He snorts. “You’re talking like I’m some kind of international criminal. Come on, Princess. It’s just a rumor.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, struggling to keep your voice steady. “This rumor reflects on me, on my family. On Norway.”

He watches you, head tilted, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And do you care?”

You frown, feeling that flush creep back to your cheeks. “Of course I care.”

“No, I mean, do you care about it — us? I mean, the rumor?”

There’s something disarming in the way he says it, like he’s testing you. You can’t help but hesitate, your well-rehearsed words slipping just out of reach.

“It’s my duty,” you finally say, straightening your shoulders, “to uphold my family’s reputation.”

He doesn’t seem impressed. Instead, he shakes his head, a bemused smile on his lips. “You’re so serious. Makes me think I really did pick the right princess.”

Noora coughs, clearly eager to refocus the meeting. “Let’s discuss the actual statement, shall we?”

You nod, relieved to move on, but Franco holds up a hand, eyes still locked on yours. “I just want to say, for the record … I don’t think I’d mind the rumors, if they were true.”

There’s a moment of silence, thick and uncomfortable. You can feel the curious stares of your team, the surprise on Noora’s face, the quiet snickers from Franco’s side.

“Mr. Colapinto,” you say carefully, “this is neither the time nor place for that kind of … remark.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Who decides that?”

Noora jumps in. “We do. And as such, we have a preliminary draft we’d like to review with both of you. It’s brief and to the point, which is important.”

Abbie leans in, already reading over the statement. “The recent reports of a romantic relationship between Princess Y/N and Franco Colapinto are entirely false and without merit. Both parties are focused on their respective roles and responsibilities and have not been involved in any way that would support these rumors.” She looks up, pleased with herself.

You give an approving nod, glancing at Franco. “Short and factual. Perfect.”

Franco frowns, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a little … cold, don’t you think?”

“That’s the point,” you say flatly. “We’re supposed to be shutting down the rumors, not fueling them.”

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “How about something more like … while I have great respect for Princess Y/N and have enjoyed our time together, I can confirm that we are, unfortunately, just friends?”

You look at him, horrified. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.” He gives you a devilish grin. “It’s all about the narrative, Princess. People want romance, intrigue. You’re literal royalty — give them a little fairytale.”

You feel your cheeks burn, and it takes everything you have not to snap back at him. “This isn’t some soap opera, Mr. Colapinto.”

“Franco,” he corrects, eyes still dancing with mischief.

Noora clears her throat again. “I think it’s best we stick with the original statement.”

He gives you a mockingly solemn nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You give a small, exasperated sigh, looking back to Noora and Abbie. “If we’re all agreed, can we proceed?”

Abbie glances between you and Franco, as if gauging the tension in the air. “Yes. We’ll finalize the statement this evening and have it released tomorrow morning.”

Franco pushes back his chair, rising to his feet. “Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” He glances down at you, his gaze lingering a bit too long. “Shame, though. This could’ve been fun.”

You fold your arms, giving him a pointed look. “We have very different definitions of fun.”

“Clearly,” he says, his smirk deepening. “But tell me, don’t you ever get tired of all this?” He gestures around at the meeting room, the stacks of paperwork, the solemn faces of your advisors. “The rules, the protocol. Doesn’t it get … dull?”

You purse your lips, resisting the temptation to give him a real answer. “It’s my duty.”

He tilts his head, his expression softening just slightly. “I get duty. But where’s the fun?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. And for a second, just a second, you wonder if he has a point.

Franco’s gaze sharpens as he watches you struggle to respond. And then, to your utter shock, he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours. “Here,” he says, with that sly, teasing smile.

Before you can pull away, he lifts your hand, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate gesture. His eyes hold yours as he brushes his mouth over your knuckles, lingering just long enough to make you feel the heat creeping up your face.

“I promise,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, “the next time I kiss you, Princess, it’ll be somewhere much more pleasurable.”

You pull your hand back, heart pounding, but he only grins, unbothered, and gives you a playful wink.

“Until next time, Your Highness.”

***

The bar is dimly lit, tucked away on a quiet street where no one knows who you are and, more importantly, no one cares. It’s the perfect place to slip away from the weight of your title, from the headlines, from the rules and the statement that your team is probably drafting up at this very moment. For once, you just want to sit here, nursing a drink, and pretend you’re anyone else.

The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it’s a welcome distraction. You let out a breath, easing back against the bar, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders release. For the first time all day, no one is watching, no one is whispering. You’re just … here.

Until a voice slides into the quiet like a warm breeze. “Didn’t think I’d find royalty in a place like this.”

You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. You don’t turn, but your grip on the glass tightens as Franco slides onto the stool beside you, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, not bothering to mask the exasperation in your voice.

“Me?” He says, all innocence. “Just having a drink. Same as you.” He signals the bartender. “Tequila,” he says, then nods at your glass, smirking. “And whatever she’s having.”

You sigh. “Of all the bars in London, you had to pick this one?”

He grins, shameless. “Maybe I just have good taste.”

You roll your eyes. ���Highly doubtful.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “Come on, Princess. I know you’re thrilled to see me.”

“Thrilled isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

He leans in, his voice dropping low enough that it feels like a secret. “What would you use, then?”

You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you consider. “Mildly inconvenienced.”

He laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that catches you off guard. You try to keep your face impassive, but there’s something disarming about his laughter, something that makes you wonder why it feels like he’s always able to unravel you with so little effort.

“Fine,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar, mirroring your posture. “Then I’ll just sit here, mildly inconveniencing you until you admit you’re enjoying yourself.”

You scoff. “That’s not going to happen.”

His whiskey arrives, and he raises his glass, clinking it lightly against yours. “Care to bet on that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you always think everything’s a game?”

“Only when it’s fun,” he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. There’s something undeniably bold about the way he watches you, something that sends a little thrill down your spine despite yourself.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious,” he says, his voice turning softer, more intimate. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

You snort. “Get to know me? I’m pretty sure you just want to use this as an excuse to fuel the rumors.”

“Maybe the rumors are more interesting than you think,” he counters smoothly, sipping his drink. “Or maybe I’m just curious.”

“Curious?” You echo, lifting an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About what a princess does when no one’s watching.” His eyes flash with that familiar glint, and he gives you a lazy, unapologetic smile. “And so far, you don’t disappoint.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”

“Oh, I don’t need to try,” he says, his voice soft but self-assured. “I just do.”

You shake your head, determined not to let him win this little game. “I don’t think you’re as irresistible as you think you are.”

“Maybe.” He tilts his head, studying you with an infuriating level of focus. “But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your retort dies on your lips as his hand moves closer, resting just on the edge of the bar, fingers inching toward yours. It’s subtle, but it sends a pulse of awareness up your arm, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, the warmth radiating from him, the intensity of his gaze as it lingers on you.

You straighten, clearing your throat. “So what’s your endgame here, Franco?”

“No endgame,” he says easily, but there’s a promise in his tone, a flicker in his eyes that makes it hard to believe. “Just wanted a drink with a pretty princess.”

You almost laugh. Almost. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Is that why you’re smiling?” He asks, leaning closer.

You hadn’t realized you were. You quickly straighten your face, but he’s already noticed, that knowing smirk widening as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Relax, Princess. You’re allowed to have fun, too.”

“Define fun,” you say, though you’re painfully aware that you’re actually enjoying this little back-and-forth. It’s dangerous, exhilarating — two things you never let yourself indulge in.

“Fun?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Fun is you, sitting here, pretending you don’t like me, while secretly hoping I’ll keep talking.”

You roll your eyes. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he says, and his hand moves again — this time, resting casually on your thigh under the bar. The touch is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make you momentarily forget the carefully constructed boundaries you’ve set.

“Franco,” you warn, though your voice is less steady than you’d like.

He raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing a slow, almost absentminded circle against your leg. “Problem?”

You don’t answer, but he takes your silence as permission, his fingers edging just a little higher, teasingly close, as if he’s daring you to stop him. And you should. You know you should. But for some reason, you don’t.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me to stop, Princess. And I will.”

Your mind races, every sensible thought colliding with the thrill that’s building inside you. You swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch.

“Why would I tell you to stop,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, “if I don’t want you to?”

He grins, satisfied. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Before you can respond, he’s closing the distance, his hand slipping higher under your dress, his thumb brushing slow circles that make your heart race. It’s reckless and wild and nothing you’d ever thought you’d do — but in this moment, it feels impossible to resist.

The next few minutes are a blur of whispered words and stolen glances, your resolve slipping with every soft touch, every cocky grin he throws your way. You barely register the decision to leave the bar until you’re outside, standing on the quiet street, the night air cool against your flushed skin.

“Your place or mine?” He asks, his voice a playful drawl.

You hesitate, a thousand reasons to walk away tumbling through your mind. But when you look at him — at that unrelenting confidence, the challenge in his eyes — you feel your control waver. Just this once, you tell yourself. Just this once, you’ll let yourself break the rules.

“Yours,” you say, surprised at the steadiness of your voice.

He doesn’t waste a second, taking your hand and leading you down the street, his grip warm and solid, grounding you even as your heart races. You follow him, pulse pounding with each step, until you’re standing outside his hotel room door, the reality of what you’re doing hitting you in a rush.

But then he’s looking at you again, that mischievous smile softening into something more intimate, and your doubts fade. He opens the door, and you step inside, feeling as though you’re crossing some invisible line.

The room is dim, the city lights casting a faint glow through the windows. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and for a moment, you see a different side of him — something softer, deeper.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. But instead of answering, you lean up, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that’s tentative at first, then deepening as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you don’t think about duty, or protocol, or anything else. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the quiet thrill of finally letting go.

***

francolapinto

Liked by f1wagupdates, royalwatchers, and 714,925 others

francolapinto all the rumours are true

View all 3,816 comments

pintobean everyone called me crazy for believing the articles but look who’s laughing now!

coca-colapinto because as much as i love franco, there’s no way i was about to believe he could’ve pulled a whole ass princess

pintobean this is a lesson not to underestimate his rizz

coca-colapinto please never say that unironically again

f1wagupdates pray for their PR teams, whatever they’re earning is not nearly enough 🙏

gridgossip franco had exactly nine races to turn the paddock upside down and boy did he not disappoint

f1wagupdates who needs an f1 seat in 2025 when you can have a throne?

***

The morning arrives far too soon, sunlight streaming through the hotel curtains and casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. You barely have time to blink yourself awake when a loud, frantic banging rattles the door, shaking you out of the haze of last night.

Franco groans beside you, his arm lazily draped over your waist. “You expecting someone?”

You’re too comfortable, too wrapped up in the warmth of his skin and the lingering bliss to even think straight. “Not … exactly.”

The pounding persists, and then voices — urgent, unmistakable voices — filter through the door. “Franco! Y/N! Are you in there? It’s urgent!”

Your eyes widen, a flash of panic cutting through the sleepiness. Franco doesn’t seem fazed. He barely lifts his head off the pillow, his hand lazily running down your spine as he mutters, “They’ll go away.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” You push yourself up slightly, glancing over the bed, finding discarded clothes and a vague sense of regret somewhere on the floor. The pounding grows louder, and finally, Franco sits up, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably disheveled.

He stretches, glancing at you with a lazy grin. “What do you think? Just a few more minutes or …”

“Open the door!” Comes a familiar, exasperated voice from the hallway. You recognize it immediately — Noora.

Franco’s eyes meet yours, amusement glinting there. “Looks like we don’t have a choice.”

Reluctantly, he pulls himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants from the floor and slipping them on with a casual ease that only makes your heartbeat quicken. He tosses you a smirk over his shoulder before heading to the door.

As he opens it, a whirlwind of people floods into the room — Noora, Abbie, and a few more members of both your PR teams, all of them looking like they’re seconds away from losing their minds.

“Oh my god,” Noora gasps, her gaze darting between you and Franco, her face turning several shades of pink. “This … this is-”

“Completely reckless!” Abbie finishes, giving you a look that’s half shock, half scandalized admiration. “What were you two thinking?”

Franco crosses his arms, unfazed. “Good morning to you too.”

One of Williams’ other PR officers steps forward, looking ready to faint. “Franco, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Those photos … your Instagram …”

Franco grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What, people are talking?”

“Talking?” Noora squeaks, her voice an octave higher than usual. She glares at you, her eyes wide, almost pleading. “This is a disaster! Do you understand what you’ve done to our schedule, our statement plan? And the … the-” Her gaze flickers to the faint marks on your neck, and her knees buckle. Abbie reaches out quickly, guiding her to a chair.

“Maybe we overreacted,” Abbie mutters, though she doesn’t take her eyes off you. “Or maybe we didn’t react enough.”

You feel a rush of heat flood your face as everyone’s gaze lands on you. Franco catches it and gives you a cheeky wink, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s created.

“Look,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “maybe we got a little carried away, but it’s … it’s not like we did anything wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” Noora says, her voice faint as she studies the marks on your neck again. “You … you have no idea how this looks, do you?”

Franco, completely unfazed, strolls over to the mirror above the dresser. He takes a long look at his own reflection, tilting his head to admire the scratches and darkening bruises scattered across his skin. “Looks like a good night to me.”

Your PR teams collectively groan, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Franco catches your eye in the mirror, and the mischievous spark there makes it impossible not to crack a smile.

“Franco, this isn’t a joke!” One of his managers snaps, practically pulling at his hair. “Do you know how many calls we’ve received since you posted those photos?”

Franco shrugs, giving them a lazy grin. “Then turn off your phone. Worked for me.”

Another round of exasperated sighs fills the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for your PR team. Not enough, though, to actually feel bad.

Noora steps forward, hands on her hips, looking at you with an expression that’s somehow both sympathetic and stern. “Your Highness, this is … unprecedented. We need to issue a statement immediately, clarify this situation-”

“Or not,” Franco interrupts, his tone far too nonchalant. He turns away from the mirror, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I think the people like a little mystery, don’t you?”

Noora gives him a look that could wilt flowers. “This isn’t about what the people like, Mr. Colapinto. It’s about protecting reputations.”

“Oh, so we’re doing that now?” Franco glances at you, his smile playful. “Funny, last night I didn’t get the sense that the two of us in this room were all that worried about reputations.”

Your face flushes, and you shoot him a look that’s half reprimand, half reluctant amusement. “You’re not helping.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Who said I was trying to help?”

Abbie lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. “Can we at least agree that this … whatever this is, stays here? Quietly?”

Franco raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a smirk. “You hear that, Princess? Quietly. Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the way his gaze makes your stomach flip. “Maybe some things should be quiet,” you say, though your voice sounds unconvincing even to you.

Noora, still looking a bit wobbly, clears her throat. “Please, can we just … make a plan?”

Franco sighs, feigning disappointment. “Fine. Make your plan. But don’t expect me to follow it.”

Before anyone can respond, he gives you one last smirk and strides over to the door, pulling it open. “In fact, I think it’s about time we had the room to ourselves, don’t you think?”

The PR teams exchange panicked glances, but they don’t have much choice as Franco gives them a not-so-subtle wave toward the exit. Noora opens her mouth to protest, but Abbie gently ushers her toward the door, casting one last look at you that’s a mix of concern and reluctant approval.

“We’ll be in touch,” Abbie says, but there’s a hint of resignation in her tone, as if she knows that whatever control they thought they had is slipping fast.

Once the last of them has been herded out, Franco shuts the door with a decisive click. He turns back to you, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and before you can process it, he’s crossing the room, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “I think we gave them quite a show.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “We? That was mostly you.”

He laughs softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t exactly object.”

You’re about to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands find your waist, and suddenly you’re being guided backward, the mattress hitting the back of your legs as he eases you down. His gaze is intense, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intent.

“Franco,” you murmur, but the way he’s looking at you steals the rest of your words.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “We’re not done yet, Princess.”

Your heart races as he shifts, his hands warm against your skin, his weight pressing you back into the bed. And as he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s somehow both playful and possessive, you realize that whatever the consequences, whatever scandal might follow … right now, none of it matters.

Right now, there’s only him, the quiet thrill of his touch, and the feeling of finally — finally — giving in.

***

The night sky over Las Vegas glitters with a million lights, bright enough to drown out the stars, as the drivers’ parade winds down the track. The grandstands are packed, the excitement in the air palpable even before the race has started.

Franco is perched atop the back of a bus, arms folded, his easy smirk in place as he surveys the flashing cameras and cheering fans. Beside him stands Lewis Hamilton, calm and collected as always, with that practiced smile of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Franco nudges Lewis with his elbow, grinning. “So, you know we’re both basically royalty now, right?”

Lewis chuckles, giving him a sideways look. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”

Franco shrugs, looking as if he’s contemplating something serious for a split second, then tilts his head. “Well, you’ve got the knighthood, Sir Hamilton,” he says, drawing out the words with an exaggerated British accent. “And I’ve got, well …” He grins, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. “The princess.”

Lewis laughs, a rich, full sound. “Ah, I see. So you’re actually out here trying to one-up my knighthood?”

Franco clutches his chest dramatically. “Exactly. I mean, not to make it a competition, but I’m basically a prince now. Which, if we’re being technical, puts me a bit above you in rank.”

Lewis lets out a snort, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, man. I’m a knight, not a court jester.”

Franco raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts. I’m sure knighthood’s very nice, but I think there’s something to be said for having a princess.”

Lewis shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “So it’s true, then?”

For the first time, Franco’s smirk softens into something else, something quieter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with an expression that’s unmistakably fond. He’s not looking at Lewis now, or at the cheering fans, or even the flashing cameras around them. His gaze is locked on his phone, where an image fills the screen.

It’s you, cozy on the couch with your Cavalier King Charles Spaniel in your lap, a warm blanket wrapped around you, hair falling casually over your shoulder. You’re looking straight into the camera, a relaxed smile on your face, and there’s an almost surprising intimacy in the photo — the kind that doesn’t come from a staged royal portrait but from a simple, real moment. It’s the type of photo someone only sends to someone they care about.

Franco doesn’t say anything right away. He just stares at the image, his thumb tracing lightly over the screen, as if he’s savoring the private moment before he has to lock his phone away for the race.

He nods, almost to himself. “Yeah. It’s true.”

Lewis studies him slowly, an almost invisible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d see the day,” he murmurs, a touch of amusement there. “Guess you’re growing up, huh?”

Franco finally looks up, chuckling. “Speak for yourself, man. I’m still a kid at heart.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow. “A kid at heart who’s dating a princess? That’s a combination I didn’t see coming.”

“Neither did I, to be honest.” Franco leans back, stretching his arms out along the edge of the bus, still clutching his phone in one hand. “One minute, I’m just minding my business, and the next … boom.” He snaps his fingers. “The entire world decides we’re dating. Didn’t even know her name before then.”

Lewis chuckles. “And now you’re on your phone looking at pictures she sent you. You’ve come a long way.”

Franco glances down at the picture again, a private smile playing on his lips. “Guess I have.”

The parade continues, the roar of the crowd swelling around them as they pass another section of the grandstand, but it all feels distant. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence, and Franco finds himself thinking back over the past few weeks, the whirlwind of rumors and statements, and then … the quiet moments that somehow followed.

Lewis studies him, eyes narrowing in that perceptive way he has. “So … you and her. Is it, like, official?”

Franco lets out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? This is Her Royal Highness we’re talking about. There’s no ‘official’ until we’ve been courting for at least a year. There’s procedure and … what’s the word she loves to use? Protocol.”

“Protocol.” Lewis grins. “That sounds … exactly like what you hate.”

“Oh, believe me.” Franco laughs, shaking his head. “She’s been trying to teach me, but I don’t think I’ve followed protocol a single time. I mean, she actually tried to tell me what utensils I should use at dinner. Like, why does it matter?”

“Didn’t go well, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’ve decided that those tiny forks are optional.” Franco sighs, pocketing his phone. “But that’s her. She takes it all so seriously. Makes me want to take it seriously too, in some strange way.”

Lewis tilts his head, watching him. “I get that. That’s what happens when someone really means something to you.” He pauses, as if weighing his words. “So, she’s watching tonight?”

Franco nods, a flash of pride evident in his smile. “She sent me this right before we went out for the parade.” He taps his pocket, where his phone is hidden now. “Said she’d be watching. Don’t know how she manages to get away with it, with her schedule planned out months in advance, but she’s … creative.”

Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “The lengths you two go to. Like some kind of fairytale romance.”

The bus they’re on takes another slow turn around the parade route, the lights of Las Vegas casting a surreal glow over the scene. The streets are packed with fans, all of them waving and shouting, and Franco finds himself wondering if you’re watching this right now. He imagines you, curled up on the couch with that fluffy little dog of yours, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Franco smiles. “Yeah, I guess it really is.”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

the pests are back in town | chaos fc

summary: someone at arsenal made a rookie error and paired the aussie pest and british menace together for media day and it's the usual chaos like always. pairings: chaos fc reader!monkey x kyra cooney cross x arsenal wfc chaos fc masterlist

“It’s a joke right? Tell me it’s a mistake?” You overhear Steph question as you walk nearer to them and you’re curious to know exactly what they’re talking about.

Kim sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I don’t think so.”

“Alright, I’m here now the party can begin,” You joke, hobbling through with your foot still in a boot and grinning mischievously when you spot Lia chatting with Kim and Steph, “Hi, Wallaby! Did you miss me?” You ask, slinging your arm around the Swiss woman’s shoulder with a slight difficulty of her being taller than you.

“Hi little one,” Lia turns to give you a side hug, “How did the hospital appointment go?” She asks, concerned.

“Doc’ is dumb,” You murmur in a low voice, your mood changing instantly at the mention of the appointment you had this morning that didn’t go your way like you thought it would.

You were kind of disheartened by your latest hospital appointment, you didn’t get the good news that you were expecting after all and you were still going to be sidelined for a while yet, since your ankle fracture still hadn’t healed properly yet.

That definitely wasn’t made worse by the fall you had when you and Kyra tried and failed to do a TikTok trend, but that’s a story for a different day.

“Here’s the menace,” Steph jokes, ruffing your hair, “I see you still got the boot on, eh?”

“Unfortunately, I hate it,” You huff while definitely feeling grumpy and deflated about the news, “Stupid doc reckons it’s still not healed properly yet– I just wanna play and I have no chance of it anytime soon, it’s not fair!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried that TikTok trend then,” Kim remarks knowingly as she gives you a pointed look you’ve been on the receiving end of too many times.

“What TikTok trend? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about there, Kimmy,” You play dumb and shrug your shoulders.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kim states while she purses her lips.

Shaking your head, you pull a silly facial expression, “Nope, literally have no idea–  What’re you guys lookin’ so… Irked about anyways?” You wonder, noting the weary looks the three of them share, “What’s going on?”

“It’s gotta be a mistake,” Steph murmurs, staring at the paper with a blank expression on her face, “Right?”

Before you can get a straight answer, Lia jumps into the conversation again, “It’s gotta be.”

“What?” You repeat the question, staring at them while still none the wiser.

“Nope it’s not,” Beth appears, peering over Kim’s shoulder and confirming what you’re already itching to know.

“Oh god,” Steph mutters, shaking her head in disagreement.

You blink, still utterly confused about the topic of conversation they were on about, “What… What is it?” You exchange looks between all 4 of the older girls, but none of them are giving you anything to work with, “What’re you all on about?”

“You and Kyra,” Lia finally decides to be the one to tell you the good news, “You pair are together for media day.” She tells you, biting her bottom lip and clearly bracing for impact.

“Seriously?” Your eyes light up in pure glee, “Yes! Winner!” You're practically vibrating with excitement, and if it wasn’t for your dumb ankle fracture then you would definitely be jumping up and down in joy.

You and Kyra? A dangerous duo on any given day, but today– on media day– things were about to get even more chaotic.

Steph groans dramatically, “We’re all doomed.”

“Who made the mistake?” Beth furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head, “These two together are a nightmare– The last media day proved it alone!”

“Hey! We’re not that bad,” You insist, huffing in offense.

“Yes. You are,” Steph deadpans, “You and Kyra are the worst when you’re together. Need I remind you of Melbourne?”

“Oh, but that was such a fun time!” You exclaim, grinning mischievously, “I don’t know about you, but I personally had a blast out there.”

“I think Kim is still reliving that nightmare,” Lia chips in amusedly as you sneak a glance at your captain who you swear shudders at the memory, “This isn’t a good idea.”

You pout, crossing your arms together, “Oh, come on. You guys seriously don’t think that much about us, do you?”

Beth doesn’t even think to hesitate, “No.”

“Absolutely not,” Steph shakes her head, reinforcing it.

You open your mouth to argue, but then Katie strolls over  with Caitlin while smirking, “Oh you guys just discovered the pests are together for media day?” She questions.

“This is a nightmare,” Beth shakes her head dramatically.

“Well that’s just rude,” You huff in response just as you spot your best friend and instantly perk up, “Ky! Guess what, we’re together for media duties!”

“What, seriously? Yes!” Kyra exclaims, letting out a cheer and definitely buzzing about the news.

“This is bad, so very bad,” Lia mutters to herself, shaking her head in disagreement.

You roll your eyes, exasperated, “Nah, nah, this is a great day!” You insist, “It’s gonna be wonderful. It’s like Christmas morning!”

Steph snorts, clearly amused, “If this is how excited you get for Christmas, you’ve got serious issues.”

You shrug casually, zero shame on your face, “Yeah, I know. I come with a lot of trauma,” You pause for a split second, “Dead dad, mum that abandoned me, blah blah blah,” You wave a hand like it’s not a big deal, “Need I go on?”

“Leah!?” Kattie furrows her brow in concern, “There’s something with your kid,” She glances around to look for the blonde, “I think she’s broken!” She jokes, dramatically.

“Oh no, she’s not broken,” Leah laughs in amusement, slinging her arm around your shoulder, “She’s just… Well, she’s Monkey.” She explains, shrugging her shoulders.

“See? I’m just– Hey, that was still an insult, Malfoy!” You grumble in protest.

“Monkey, we’ve already been over this,” Leah groans in annoyance, “Will you stop callin’ me that?”

“Nope,” You can’t help but smirk, “As long as you still continue to get wound up over it, definitely not.”

“Give me strength,” Leah mutters, rubbing her temples, “What’re you so happy about?” She wonders, noticing the cheshire grin on your face.

“Me and Ky are paired together for media,” You fill her in with a grin plastered on your face.

Leah can’t help but snort and shake her head, “That’s a joke, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Steph exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “Someone must’ve made  a mistake, right?”

“No, no, no,” Leah shakes her head promptly, “You two are… You’re trouble together, look what happened in America!”

“I think you’re overreacting slightly there Le,” You insist, rolling your eyes.

“Am I? Cos’ I think the fractured ankle really speaks for itself,” Leah deadpans.

“Urgh,” You groan dramatically, tilting your head back at the painful memory, “It’s bad enough I have this stupid cast, you don’t need to mention it as well.”

“Wait, does Kimmy still have your skateboard held hostage?” Kyra wonders, curiously as she wraps her free around your shoulder.

“Yeah she does,” The pout currently plastered on your face really just spoke for itself, “Le’s being the captain of the fun police and not allowing me to have any fun.” You mutter.

Leah clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “And risk breaking your neck as well? Yeah, not a single chance am I taking that risk– It stays at Kim’s out of the way since we can’t exactly send it back now.”

“But what fun is it if it just stays in the cupboard?” You don’t relent from this conversation as you huff dramatically, “How about…”

“How about we don’t revisit this conversation and forget about the skateboard instead, yeah?” The blonde cuts in with a knowing look.

“Monkey? Kyra?” One of the media team waves over to you both to get your attention, “We need you both.”

“We’re needed already?” Kyra furrows her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders, “Lets’ go!”

Your eyes light up in glee, “Fantastic, be right there,” Before looking back at the huddle of older girls, “It’s showtime!”

“Don’t be a brat and get in any trouble–” Leah begins to say.

“I’m sorry all I heard then was blah blah blah,” You interject with a mischievous smile on her face, “Come on Ky, let’s go and find out what we’ve gotta do!” With that, you quite literally pull Kyra in the direction of where you need to go.

Katie chuckles lowly at the blondes’ facial expression, “You’ve got your hands full with that one, ain’t you, Le?”

“Don’t even go there,” Leah huffs and shakes her head in response, “That girl sometimes, honestly she’s so bloody cheeky, but I do love her dearly.”

“Hi, I’m Kyra!” Your Australian counterpart jumps in first to speak, introducing herself.

“And I’m Monkey– “ You start but get cut off with the cameraman giving you a knowing look, “What? Seriously, I have to answer my actual name? Oh for *bleep* sake!”

“Monkey!” You hear Leah scold from the other side of the room, which you’re honestly shocked how she managed to hear that so far away.

“Sorry, sorry, anyways…” You quietly mumble your name begrudgingly in front of the camera that’s rolling, “I can’t believe you guys just made me say that aloud. I hate you all.”

The cameraman chuckles from the other side, “Continue.”

You huff and dramatically fold your arms, “Alright, well yeah, we’re gonna play ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?” You pause for a brief second, “This should be interesting.”

“Puts our ‘best friend’ knowledge to the test,” Kyra adds in, grinning teasingly.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes in response as you look at the cameraman, “How do we do this then?”

“One of you will read the cards aloud and answer, while the other sits further back with headphones listening to music,” The cameraman explains, motioning to the large bulky headphones on the table in front.

“Better be good music,” You remark in a cheeky tone of voice.

“Do you wanna go first?” Kyra asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah, sure why not… How hard could it be?” You smirk as you grab the cards in front of you, “Pft, easy, bring it on!”

With that, the camera stops filming for a second before it begins again with Kyra sitting on a chair a few feet away from you while you’re sitting on the chair in front.

“You good?” You question, Kyra responds with a thumbs up when she can’t hear anything and you giggle, “I could say so much right now…” You say, as Kyra continues to look cluelessly at you.

The cameraman chuckles, “Let’s get to the questions.”

You pick up the first card, “Where is Kyra from?” You read the question aloud and ponder thinking for a few seconds, “Australia, well Queensland to be more specific– Yeah I’m sure it is there!”

You switch out the card and scan your eyes over it,  “When is Kyra’s birthday?” You continue to read the next question aloud, “Easy, 15th February, 2002– You know you guys should really make these more easier for me,” You joke, grinning teasingly as you look directly at the camera.

Tossing the card aside, you flip to the third and final one, “When did Kyra make her debut for Arsenal?” You read the final one aloud, “Oo, this ones’ even better! It was last October, the first game of the season, which we unfortunately lost, but I was there,” You pause after giving your answer with full confidence, “I’m surprised I remember, cos’ I was sick, but yeah… her first debut was then!”

The cameraman chuckles, “That’s three for Kyra done,” He declares, turning the camera off and gesturing Kyra back to sit beside you, “Right, now we’ll film it so it’s Kyra reacting to your answers before switching roles. Sound good, girls?”

You wave dismissively, “Yup, no worries!”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kyra adds, planting herself down in the empty seat, as she camera starts rolling again, “How’d you do?”

“The questions were so easy,” You joke, cockily, “Kinda wish I had more of a challenge.”

“You seem overconfident right now,” Kyra smirks, taking a glance at the questions, “Alright, first question, where am I from?”

“Queensland, and now I think… Why am I doubting myself?” You frown, taking a minute to wonder if you have got it right.

Kyra laughs, “That is where I’m from!”

“Phew, first one correct,” You wipe your forehead dramatically.

“Next one– When’s my birthday?” Kyra repeats the question aloud you’ve just answered, “You should definitely know this one, if not then… Well, I don’t think we can be friends.” She jokes.

You pretend to think about it for a second, “Yeah I’m positive I know this one cos’ we celebrated it,” You give pause for the dramatic effect, “15th February, 2002. The day after Valentine's Day. Bleugh– Shit, I’m gonna be kicking myself if it’s wrong now.”

“Monkey,” The cameraman interjects from behind, shaking his head.

You feign innocence and give him a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Kyra snickers at the fact you have no filter sometimes, “Nice, yeah, that’s right!” She exclaims, “You’re doing so well… You know me so well!” She retorts, playfully.

“Well I’d hope so since I’m your best friend,” You respond with an eye roll.

“Final question,” Kyra speaks up as she gazes at the last question, “Tough one– When did I make my Arsenal debut?”

“First game of the season against Liverpool,” You answer way too confidently and immediately pray it’s correct, “Right? I hope so, I was on me deathbed for that game!”

“Nailed it,” Kyra confirms, grinning.

“Yay, go me!” You fist pump the air as you do a little wiggle in celebration and the camera’s stop filming, “So, now we swap?” You clarify with the cameraman.

“Yep, that’s right,” The cameraman chimes in.

Nodding in agreement, the camera cuts while you switch positions so you’re the one stuck with the headphones, and at least the music isn’t too bad.

You can’t hear a single word that’s being said, but you’re just content to listen to the music, singing the song in your head as you do a little shimmy in your seat.

It’s times like this where you wish you could lip-read, it’s not the easiest thing to do though and your attention span wouldn’t last that long sometimes before giving up.

You can’t help but let your thoughts wander away at this current time, “Maybe I can buy more lego soon? I need to add to my collection– You can never have too much lego!”

At last, you're given the gesture of a thumbs up before removing the headphones and get up to sit on a closer chair with the slight difficulty of the boot currently on your foot.

“Was that easy for you?” You joke with your best friend.

“Piece of cake mate,” Kyra grins in response.

You pick up the cards and read over the first one, “First question, what is my favourite drink?” You read aloud, smirking as you know she definitely does know this answer.

“Energy drinks, duh? You love them!” Kyra answers with a knowing smile.

You beam a wide smile and nod, “I do, even if I’m not technically allowed them anymore— Mean Malfoy!” You joke, looking directly at the camera and scowling.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Kyra jokes with a wink.

“Exactly,” You retort with a playful grin, “Alright, next question then– You should definitely know this, and if you don’t then, well, we need to rethink our friendship.” You tell her, jokingly.

“Our friendship’s on the line over this?” Kyra clutches her hand over her heart and faux’s her shock, “Well then I guess I’d better get it right. You adore both Shrek and anything Marvel related of course, and if it’s anything else then I’m not having it.”

“Ding, ding, ding, correct!” You grin, “I have watched them way too many times to count, but who cares?”

“I knew it!” Kyra exclaims, “Phew, our friendship still remains intact.” She jokes with you.

“For now, just as long as you answer the final question correctly,” You continue to wind her up, leaning in dramatically, “When did I join Arsenal?”

Kyra bites her bottom lip in hesitation, “See, this one was hard to remember, so I guessed and went with age 9, so I know you’ve been at the academy before signing the senior team...”

You shook her head in disagreement, “Want a clue?” You joke, amusedly, “Leah’s known me ever since I joined, and that was…” You pretend to count on your fingers, “11 years ago.”

“Oh!” Kyra’s eyes light up in realisation, “So, you were 8 then? I was so close!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “You’ve known her for 11 years? That’s wild! How’s she put up with you for that long?”

“Yeah, I know it’s– Hey, that’s cruel!” The realisation hits finally and you gasp, “Speak for yourself, you’re the Aussie pest.”

“Yeah, and you’re the British Menace,” Kyra jokes, grinning at you.

“Right that does it, this friendship is… it’s under discussion,” You shake your head dramatically, continuing to play up for the camera in front of you, “Two out of three, I suppose it’s not that bad,”

“I’ll take it!” Kyra shrugs her shoulders, “The last one really threw me off!”

You grin and wrap your free arm around her, “Awh, don’t worry. We’re still besties!” You exclaim, before attempting to wrestle her down to the floor as the older girls in the background catch wind of your antics, just as the camera stops rolling.

“Lessi is definitely the clumsy one in the team - she falls over all the time. I know that says a lot, considering I'm currently in a boot,” You say with a gleam in your eyes as a memory lights up, “Oh, oh! We have to tell them about, you know, what happened at training the other day!” You grin mischievously, already knowing the chaos you’re about to stir.

Kyra looks at you, clueless, “What happened at training?”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief, “You don’t remember?”

“No, should I?” Kyra questions, further confused.

“Of course, yeah! About Malfoy,” You retort, a cheeky grin plastered on your face.

“Monkey, don’t you dare,” Leah warns, shooting her a look.

“I dare,” You smirk in satisfaction as you see the daunting look on Leah’s face, “You see…”

Her eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in her jaw. Right as you're about to spill the story, Leah storms over and claps her hand over your mouth, cutting off your words so all that comes out are muffled noises, “Monkey, don’t push it,” The blonde warns in a firm tone of voice.

You roll your eyes dramatically, wiping at your mouth for emphasis, “I was just gonna get the fun bit as well, ” You shrug with an exaggerated innocence, using the advantage of your crutches  to try and keep her at bay so you can continue to yap like you wanted to do, “Anyways before I was so rudely interrupted about what I wanted to say… Oh yeah, Leah completely fell over the other day and it was hilarious to watch!”

“You’re such a menace sometimes,” Leah mutters in disbelief while shooting you a playful scowl.

“Yeah, but you still love me regardless,” You flash her an innocent smile, waving your crutch around in the air, “Come on, it’s okay to admit it that you do.” You add.

Leah arches her eyebrow in response, “It’s questionable sometimes when you come out with things like you do.”

However due to your own clumsiness you end up falling over in the process which causes Leah to instantly drop her annoyed act and immediately becomes concerned instead. 

“Oh my God,” Leah’s eyes widen as she watches you fall to the floor and rushes to help you back onto your feet, “Are you okay?” She questions.

“Ow, shit, that bloody hurt,” You grumble your profound language and completely forget that there’s still a camera rolling so that’s something the media team will have to work on editing out again, “Clearly I’m not stable on my feet, like I thought I was.” You continue to grumble, accepting Leah’s hand to help you up off the floor as you hiss in slight pain.

Leah tuts and shakes her head, her previous annoyance completely forgotten about now, “You really do need to be more careful,” She chides in a gentle tone of voice, “Or you’re going to make things worse for yourself my girl.”

“Yeah,  yeah I know, you don’t need to remind me,” You huff in response and use your crutches to balance your support to save you falling on the floor again, “I’m already stuck on these crutches for what feels like the foreseeable.”

“Exactly, that’s more of a reason to be careful little miss clumsy,” Leah retorts, once she’s made sure you’re okay before she takes the chance to rip into you a bit for your usual clumsiness.

Rolling your eyes in response, “Speak for yourself when you’re the one that fell over at training the other day.” You chip in again as she flash her a cheeky smile.

“Menace,” Leah murmurs now rolling her own eyes.

It’s only now that you realise the whole interaction has been filmed, “Wait… Was the camera still filming, like all of that?” You question.

“Yep,” A member of the media team responds in agreement.

“Urgh,” You let out an exasperated groan and shove your head in your hands, “Great, everyones’ gonna see my clumsiness. Fuck sakes.”

“Monkey,” Leah chides, shooting you a stern look, “Language.”

“English,” You reply while trying to feign your innocence, “Right, shit yeah, no swearing in front of the cameras. Noted…”

“Monkey, you did it again,” Kyra snickers in amusement.

Smiling in realisation, you look at the media time guiltily, “Whoops. I did it again, didn’t I? My bad.” You apologise to them, scratching the back of your head awkwardly, “I guess you guys’ are gonna have a fair bit to edit, eh? Well at least we keep things lively around here!”

© scribblesofagoonerr

[thnksfrthchaos]

bonus points if (when) School and Work are full of Normal People™️ and they do Normal People things such as. Try to talk to you and Talk to Eachother and Gossip (about you, DEFINITELY about you, they hate you oh god they are DEFINITELY not just discussing exams wdym). And you have to pretend that you are just the Normal amount of fucking exhausted and not exhausted to the point that if you hear someone laughing just one more time your brain will melt out of your ears and you will Know Deep Down that they're laughing At you, Actually, and wow wouldn't today be a swell day to end it all!?

And you go on, day after day, telling yourself that It'll be fine, that You'll recharge during the Weekend, only you fucking blink once and actually saturday was the worst fucking day of your life and sunday you need to regenerate by doing nothing except now you only have sunday left to catch up on Chores And Schoolwork And Relationships but You Have To Do Nothing for 48 hours in a row AT LEAST in order to function normally again.

So you try to catch up and recharge by missing a few days of school telling yourself that you need this because you are miserable and exhausted and then once you finally feel Normal enough to function again youve missed too much school and work and surprise! Everyone Is Mad At You Now, Forever, All the Time, and now you need to focus on never missing school/work again so you dont get kicked out/fired. so you drain yourself over the limit despite hanging on by a thread to Fix It. Making you so much more exhausted and miserable! So you only focus on catching up with school and fall behind on Chores and Friendships, And Everyone Is mad At You Again, but for Different Reasons this time.

Until you finally almost get to your limit and fucking crash And Rinse And Repeat! Only if you rinse and repeat enough you End Up In The Psych Ward, Again, And How come You Arent Getting Better!?

How are you supposed to just get up and go to school and go to work and come home and make dinner and fold the laundry and not want to kill yourself the whole fucking time.

[russo-woso]

For the blurbs can I request Leah with royal!reader and the team finding out?? 🫶

Royalty Treatment || Leah Williamson x royal!reader

Summary The team find out about yours and Leah’s relationship

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“So, Leah, anything to share with us?” Katie asked as the team all piled in the changing rooms after training.

“No.” Leah denied, far too quickly.

“A secret you’ve been keeping from us?” Beth spoke up, the team stopping and looking over to where the conversation was.

“I said no.” Leah repeated, rolling her eyes.

“Not a special princess?”

“No. Me and Y/N are just friends.” Leah replied

“Just Y/N now, not even princess Y/N. Must be close friends, huh?” Katie continued, winding Leah up.

“We’re just friends, nothing more.”

“Then how come the press caught the two of you holding hands at an intimate lunch over the weekend?” Alessia pointed out, reading the articles from her phone.

“It means nothing, friends hold hands sometimes.”

“How do you explain the kiss afterwards then?”

“What kiss? They caught the kiss? Where? Show me.” Leah panicked, rushing to see Alessia’s phone. “Shit.”

“So, Williamson, why are you so panicked about the kiss? Is Y/N more than a friend then?”

“Fine. Me and Y/N are dating. Please don’t tell anyone, we don’t want everyone knowing until a few months.” Leah said, the team agreeing with Leah’s words, promising to not say a word.

Just as the team went back to their original conversations, Leah’s phone rang, my love written on her phone.

“Hey, love.” Leah whispered, trying to talk to you without the girls noticing.

“Oo, ‘love’. Hi princess.” Katie joked, you just so happening to hear her.

“Is that a certain Katie McCabe I hear?” You asked Leah, who hummed over the phone.

“They found out, love. They saw the articles. Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, Le. They were bound to find out anyway. Put me on speaker.” You told her, Leah listening and pressing the button on her phone.

“You’re on speaker.”

“Hey, everyone.”

“Hi princess Y/N.” The team echoed, you laughing at their formality.

“Y/N’s fine. Listen, I’ve got to go but I’ll come to one of your training sessions soon.” You said, the team saying goodbye before Leah put the phone normally again, just you and her.

“Bye love, I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“I love you too, le. Bye.”

“I love you, princess. See you later, princess. Cuddle me, princess.” Katie teased, everyone erupting in laughter at Leah’s face.

“Shut up.”

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 10)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe is safe for now, and their crazy kinks come out once again

Warnings: Language, fighting, smut, blood kink, pregnancy

Word Count: 4.4k+

And just like that, your world came crashing down around you.

You swallow hard, trying to comprehend what Rafe has just said to you. He's staring at you, waiting for you to say something but the words just wouldn't come.

Rafe tried to hold back tears. This was it. You were going to leave him. He was going to prison and he would lose you and his baby and everything that brought him any ounce of happiness in his life.

"Y-you...shot..."You muttered. "I-is she dead?"

"I don't know," His voice was barely above a whisper.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. "What happened, exactly, Rafe?" You finally managed.

"She was going to arrest my dad. S-she had the gun pointed at him. I-I had to save him, Y/N." He was crying again.

"What? Why was she arresting your dad?"

"John B said Ward killed his dad."

"What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself as you lean back against the frame of Rafe's bed, leaning your head in your hands.

You knew something had happened when Ward took John B fishing. He had come back with a gaff hook wound on his arm claiming John B attacked him. You really didn't stick around to listen to what happened. You were trying to keep your stress levels down but that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Where's your dad?"

"He was still at the tarmac. He told me to bring Sarah home. She saw everything..."

"Shit."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I fucked up. I panicked, I didn't want my dad to get hurt and I-"

"Shh, baby. I know." You tell him, pulling his face to yours. "I know."

"A-are gonna leave me?" His voice was so pitiful, cracking as he spoke. The sound broke your heart.

"No. I told you, Rafe. Forever. You and me against the world." You told him before pressing your lips to his.

He brought his hands up, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. He couldn't believe it. The fact that you were still here. Still here after he just made the biggest mistake of his life. One that could land him in a jail cell forever.

"Listen to me," You told him as you pulled away. You were way more calm than you should have been, but seeing Rafe freak out somehow helped you to keep your head on straight. "We need to talk to Ward. Find out what happened after you left the tarmac."

Rafe nods between your hands. "Okay."

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

"I-I can't lose you and our baby."

"You won't. I promise you you won't."

-

You and Rafe sat silently in Ward's office as you waited for him to return home. Rafe looked over old photos and awards hung up on the walls, smiling as he ran his fingers over a photo of him and his father.

You watch him sadly. The hold Ward had over him. Rafe just wanted to be accepted and the lack of love Ward had given him has now landed him in the worst possible situation.

Rafe sat down beside you with the picture.

"You look so handsome," You tell him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiles at you. He always blushed when you called him handsome.

Ward walks in the room and your stomach drops. He stares at you both for a moment before sighing and closing the door. You're trying your best to remain calm but your head was flooded with anxiety. Flooded with thoughts of all the worst possible outcomes.

"Is...she alive?" Rafe asks.

Ward shakes his head.

"No?"

"No."

You clench your jaw and take in a deep breath.

"Okay," Rafe said, trying to calm himself as he could feel the anxiety return to his body. "Okay."

You place a hand on Rafe's bicep, rubbing his skin lightly to try and calm him down.

"What did you tell the cops? Are they coming here?" Rafe asks.

Ward walks to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before responding. "I told them John B did it."

"Told 'em John B did it..." Rafe repeated his father's words, pondering the idea. "That's good. Yes, that could work!"

You bit your lip as you watched Rafe start to get manic.

"Rafe. I need you to go to your room. Take a shower okay? Get cleaned up. If anyone asks, you were here all day okay? You were doing maintenance on The Druthers." Ward says, glancing to you. You nod your head in agreement.

"No. No, Rose knows I wasn't here." Rafe argued.

"I will talk to Rose."

"What-what about Sarah?" Rafe asks, standing up now.

"What about Sarah?" Ward asks.

"Sarah, listen, Sarah has a big mouth okay?"

"You're sister isn't going to do anything to hurt us."

"No, no, no you didn't see her in the car okay? She was freaking out!" Rafe argues back. You could hear the stress in his voice. "I have a suggestion-"

"Rafe! Stop it! I don't need your help. I didn't need it then and I don't need it now. I just need to think! So please, go clean up!" Ward was yelling now. You could see the pain on Rafe's face.

"You understand, right? Rafe said sadly. "You understand?"

"Understand what, Rafe?"

"Why I did it."

You sat silently, biting back tears. Ward turned to look at Rafe once again.

"You were in trouble and I was protecting you. Okay? Me, dad. Rafe. Not Sarah, okay? It was me!"

You couldn't help but cry now as you watched tears spill from his eyes. This wasn't his fault. You couldn't blame him for what he did. He was so broken.

Rafe backed away as Ward walked towards him. "Sorry," Rafe said softly, nervous of what his dad was going to do next.

Ward slowly pulled Rafe to him. "I know, come here. Come on, come on, bud."

You watched Rafe's face. He was shocked at the fact that his dad was hugging him. But he hugged him back tightly.

"Come on, bud, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you, Rafe. So much."

Rafe smiled at his dad's words. You couldn't help but watch them with sorrow in your eyes. The way his father's approval made him glow. How could Ward not see how special his son was?

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. We will figure it out." Ward promises.

You stand up and grab Rafe's hand. He wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Y/N-" Ward begins.

"Maintenance on The Druthers." You nod. "I'm all in."

Ward offers a sad smile. He's obviously upset that the three of you were now involved in this mess. But he was going to protect his son at all costs and make sure he gets the chance to be a father himself.

-

You and Rafe move in silence. The events of the day heavy on your mind. He pulls you into the shower with him and the two of you just stand there holding each other as you let the warm water wash away your worries.

The feeling of his skin on yours had you crying silently. You don't know what you'd do without him. He trailed the tips of his fingers over your spine and you drag your acrylics up and down his back.

Rafe moved a hand to your stomach, brushing over it softly. You didn't need to speak. Neither of you did. You could feel how much Rafe loved you and your unborn child. You clung to him tightly, reminding him you were still there. That you and Wolf were still there.

Rafe turned the shower off and wrapped you up in a towel, drying you off before he grabbed your favorite lotion and made sure he rubbed it over every inch of your body. You melted under his touch. The way his fingers traced the contours of your skin. The way he worshipped every part of your body, placing kisses all along your limbs.

He scooped you up and carried you to his bed. He went to his dresser and pulled out a shirt for you to wear. You slid it on, clutching the fabric tightly because it smelled like him.

He pulled on some boxers and climbed into bed beside you before grabbing his remote and flipping through the horror movie section.

He decided on Sinister, knowing it was one of your favorites. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snaked your legs between his and clung to him like a Boa Constrictor.

He ran his fingers through your wet hair as you concentrated on your movie. He never cared for horror, but he loved watching you get so focused. He worked on detangling each knot in your hair, silently praying that everything would turn out okay. He'd just murdered someone today. A cop. The Sheriff. And somehow, you were still here in his arms.

"You're with a murderer." Rafe whispered against your forehead. The guilt was starting to set in.

"I'm with Rafe Cameron." You responded. "A man that protects what he loves at all costs."

You could feel his tears fall on your face as he hugged your closer.

"Me and Wolf will always be safe with you." You reassured him. And it was true. Rafe loves with his whole heart. If he could get past your flaws you could get past his. He killed someone, yes, but to protect his father. You know he'd kill for you and his baby too.

You felt 100% safe wrapped up in Rafe's arms. Nothing would take you from him.

-

You woke up early. A lot earlier than Rafe. You crawled out of bed and pulled on your jeans. You placed a kiss on Rafe's forehead before sneaking out of his room, desperate for some food. The baby was hungry to say the least.

You could hear Ward and Sarah talking down the hall. You stood outside Sarah's room and listened.

"He shot her!"

"You have to pick between John B or your family!" Ward responded. "Nothing is going to happen to Rafe."

Ward walked out of her room, closing the door and locking it. He spotted you, giving you a look of concern.

"Let me out!" You could hear Sarah pound on the door.

"Why are you locking her in there?" Wheezie asked as she rounded the corner.

"Listen, there was an accident and your sister is very upset so we need to give her some time to calm down." Ward told her.

"Did something happen to the baby?" Wheezie asked, turning to you.

"No!" You told her. "The baby, is just fine, Wheeze." You smile at her. "Let's go have breakfast, yeah?" You ask her, leading her downstairs. You glance back at Ward with a warning look. Telling him he needs to get Sarah under control.

You and Wheezie sit at the kitchen table, nibbling on bacon and talking about the boys in her class.

Rafe rushes into the kitchen. He'd managed to put on sweats but no shirt. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you.

"Baby, where'd you go?"

"I'm having breakfast with Wheezie," You say, pulling him in for a kiss. "Baby was hungry."

He sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your stomach and the other around your neck. You offer him a piece of bacon and he takes it in one bite.

"Ew, do I have to be like you guys when I start dating?" Wheezie scoffs.

"You're not dating anyone, Wheeze." Rafe snaps.

You chuckle. "No. Never let a boy do something you're uncomfortable with."

Rafe was nuzzling into your neck now, placing wet kisses along your skin.

"Yuck," Wheezie scoffs. "I hope guys aren't like this."

"They are!" Rafe shouts as Wheezie gets up and walks away. "No boys!"

"You know, being all over me like this is gonna have her thinking all guys are like this." You scold.

"They are."

"Maybe at our age, but not at hers."

"No boys."

You roll your eyes as Rafe lays his head in your lap and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your belly.

"Rafe, this is the kitchen," Rose scolds as she walks in the room.

Rafe groans and leans up. You laugh and go back to eating your breakfast, feeding Rafe some as well as he still keeps his hands on your stomach.

"They're looking for John B." Ward states as he walks in the kitchen. You and Rafe both look up. "There's a reward out for him. $25,000."

You smile. The island was buying it. John B killed Peterkin. Rafe was safe.

Rose knew. She knew Rafe had done it. But she'd never do anything to rat out this family. Especially since Rafe was going to be a father.

You and Rose had actually gotten quite close. She had a miscarriage at a young age. It was hard. But she was more than happy that you were pregnant and she was dead set on making sure you were eating good and taking care of yourself.

She loved her step children like her own. But Rafe was crazy, Sarah wanted to be a Pogue, and Wheezie spent a lot of time on TikTok. But you always gave Rose the time of day. You liked helping her water her flowers and discussing baby stuff and preparing dinner.

-

John B was almost caught the night prior when you, Rafe, and Kelce tried to smoke out the bell tower. But Topper chose to pick his undying love for Sarah and let John B and Sarah get away.

You had found Rafe outside in the morning, starting up his bike and talking to himself.

"Baby, what's going on?" You asked him, forcing him to calm down and look at you.

"Stay here, Y/N!" Rafe snapped at you before hopping on his bike and riding off.

Oh fuck no.

You ran inside and grabbed the keys to his truck. You hopped in, backing out of the driveway quickly. It wasn't long before you spotted Rafe. You slowed down, trailing behind a bit so he wouldn't notice you. You watched as he pulled into Barry's house.

"Goddammit." You muttered to yourself. You were not wanting to see Barry after what happened a month and a half ago. You were in your second trimester now. Pulling into this house gave you anxiety.

You park the truck and sigh. Finally pulling yourself out of the vehicle and heading inside.

"I'm 100% fucked man!" You heard Rafe yell.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask as you swing open the screen door.

"Y/N," Rafe said. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

"Don't fucking snap at me, Rafe!"

Rafe shut his mouth. You scoffed and went and sat on Barry's couch.

"Look, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find John B?" Barry asked. "And when they find him, he's gonna start snitchin'."

"You know it was John B that stole that 25k from you right?"

"Exactly my point, Country Club. The hammer's comin' down on them Pogues."

"Let's go get your fuckin' money then." You say, standing up from the couch.

"Y/N-" Rafe starts.

"Rafe, I swear to God, I will knock your ass out." Your hormones were making themselves known.

"I don't got time for you two to argue. Let's go!" Barry yells.

Rafe glances at you and you give him a stern look back before following him outside. He gives you his helmet as you climb on the back of his bike and wrap your arms tightly around him.

After riding around for a bit you stopped at an intersection as you watched a ton of cop cars drive by. "Shit, they're looking for him." You mutter.

"Yo, is that Kie?" Rafe asks as you see a familiar SUV drive past.

"There goes that lil bitch ass now!" Barry said and you all kicked off and followed Kie's car.

You all hopped off the bikes as you pulled up to an old garage. "Alright you two go around that way and I'll take 'em from over there." Barry says, directing you where to go. You nod and follow Rafe.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? How you guys doing?" Rafe says as he enters the garage and walks towards Kiara. You stand off to the side and cross your arms, eyeing their movements as Barry holds a gun up to JJ.

God you wished you could fucking fight.

Barry took JJ down easily and you watched Rafe drag Kiara away. "It's not you we want, Kie, okay? Where's John B?"

"I don't know!" She screamed as she slapped him hard across the face.

You started forward, it took everything in you not to attack her.

"I know what you did! You murdered Peterkin!" Kiara yelled at him.

Shit. She knew. John B must have told her. You were too distracted by Kiara and Rafe to notice Pope sneak up behind you and hit you in the back of the knee with a tire iron.

You let out a loud cry as you feel to the floor, catching yourself just before your stomach made contact with the cement.

"Y/N!" Rafe yelled, but before he could get to you, Pope was hitting him.

JJ had tripped Barry, causing him to drop his gun and Kiara was quick to grab it, pointing it at you as you looked up at her from the ground.

You clenched your jaw angrily as you held your hands up in surrender.

"Don't touch her!" You could hear Rafe yell, trying to fight off Pope. "She's fucking pregnant, please! Please don't hurt her!"

Kiara's eyes went wide as she lowered the gun. "Pope, Pope! He's had enough dude!" JJ was yelling, trying to get Pope to release his grip on the cord wrapped around Rafe's neck.

"Rafe!" You cried, trying to get to your feet but the searing pain in your leg was preventing you from doing so.

"Pope, look at me!" Kiara screamed, finally getting Pope's attention as he let go of his hold on your boyfriend. "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

You were crying now, crawling over to where Rafe was laying covered in blood. "Rafe, baby, are you okay?" You asked, holding his face in your hands.

He was breathing heavily and coughing, pulling you close to him. He clung to you, trying to catch his breath, placing a protective hand over your belly.

"I'm okay, Rafe. I promise." You tell him, cradling his head. "I'm okay."

After a few minutes, Rafe's finally able to sit up. "Where'd he hit you?" He asked.

"In the back of the leg. He didn't hit the baby. I promise." You reassure him.

"He's fucking dead."

"We'll get them, Rafe. Right now we gotta make a plan." You glance over to where Barry was picking himself up off the ground. "You good, Barry?"

"Yup!" Barry groans as he stands up and walks over to help Rafe up.

Rafe helped you up and wrapping his arm around your waist as you limped beside him, leading you out to the bikes. Rafe sat down and you wedged yourself between his legs as you looked over his injuries.

"Sheriff Peterkin, huh?" Barry laughed. "You're better than I thought, Country Club!"

You shoot daggers at Barry and he shuts up. You could tell he wanted to say some dumb shit but he bit it back.

"Look, we're gonna get John B, aight? I'll be in touch." Barry says before walking off towards his bike.

"Hey, baby, look at me." You say, taking Rafe's face between your hands and forcing him to make eye contact. You could tell he was on the verge of a break down.

"I let you get hurt. I put you in danger. I put our baby in danger." He said as he bit back tears.

"No you didn't Rafe. I'm the one who wanted to come. I was the one not paying attention."

"I'm supposed to protect you." He leans his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer by your belt loops.

"Rafey, you do. Shit happens sometimes."

He shakes his head.

"Hey, look at me!" You say again, forcing his head up. You bit your lip as you looked at him. The blood coating his skin did things to you. You wrapped your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head back. You ran your tongue up his neck to his chin, licking off the fresh blood that dripped from his wound.

You heard him groan at the sensation, tightening his grips on your hips as his shorts tightened.

You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as you enjoyed the metallic taste that lingered there.

"Take me home, Rafe." You whispers against his lips.

-

Rafe pulled into your driveway and helped you off the bike. You'd been staying at the Cameron's for so long you were happy to be home.

You also didn't want to walk into Tannyhill bloody and limping, knowing there would be a plethora of questions about what happened.

You limped to your front door and fiddled with your keys.

"Baby, let me help you." Rafe says, taking your keys from you and helping you stand up.

Once you were inside Rafe picked you up and carried you to the couch. You both groaned in pain as you sat down.

"Do you feel okay?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, baby. Are you okay?" You run your hand over the bruising on his face. He nods. "Take your shirt off."

He does as he's told and you examine the bruises forming on his back from where Pope had hit him with the tire iron. He winced in pain as you lightly pressed his skin.

"Sorry baby..." You said.

"It's okay," He mumbles. You bite your lip as your eyes scan his body. The bruising, the blood. You hated seeing him hurt but it fucking turned you on. "What?" He asks with a smirk.

You suddenly felt shy. You felt your cheeks blush as you smile up at your boyfriend. "Tell me what you need, princess," His voice was low as he smiled and moved on top of you, placing soft kisses on your neck.

Your breath hitched at the sensation. "You want my blood, huh, pretty girl?"

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You stick out your tongue as he lets his bloody saliva slip from his lips to yours. "Swallow." He demands and you happily oblige. You could feel the warmth at your core. "Good girl."

Rafe tugs at your shirt, pulling it off over your head, leaving you exposed to him. He brings his lips to your collar bone and sucks at your skin, surely leaving bruises.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe.

He brings his hands to your breasts and massages roughly, flicking your nipple between his fingers and you could feel your need for him growing between your legs.

He left a trail of blood and bruises as he sucked and bit his way down your body. He stops at your stomach, placing a gentle kiss on the small bump starting to form. "You're so amazing," He whispers against your skin. "Carrying our baby."

You smile down at him lovingly, running your fingers through his shaggy hair. You watch as he unbuttons your shorts and slides them down your legs along with your panties. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, mama." He whispers, trailing bloody kisses up and down your thighs.

You gasp as he runs his tongue up the length of your core. He gets to work, circling your clit with his tongue. He pushes two fingers inside you and curls, hitting you in just the right spot as he pumps them in and out of you.

"Oh my - Rafe, fuck!" You cry, reaching your hands back to grip the top of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. Wrapping your legs around his head, you're sure he's suffocating but he just seems hungrier.

You could feel the knot form in the pit of your stomach as he flicked his tongue over your clit just right. He looked up and smiled as he watched you come undone. "Cum for me, baby girl."

The vibration of his words against your most sensitive area sent you over the edge. You couldn't control the way your legs shook as squirted in Rafe's mouth. He didn't stop, swallowing everything you offered him and licking you clean, sending you into overstimulation.

You laid speechless, trying to catch your breath. Rafe looked up at you with a shit eating grin, proud of himself for making you feel so good. Knowing he's the only one that's ever made you feel that good.

He crawled back on top of you, picking you up by they hips and laying you down on the couch beneath him. He sat up, quickly undoing his belt and shorts. You watched him, still trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm you just experienced.

"You're my girl, you know that?" He asked you, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him. He leaned over, lips hovering above yours as he lined himself up at your entrance. "My girl. Carrying my baby. Yeah?"

He was being possessive. Dominant. His eyes were crazy and you melted under his spell. "Yours." You promised.

He wrapped his fingers in your hair, cradling your head as he pressed his forehead to you. "My family..." He whispered, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. "Mine."

You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Rafe. I'll always belong to you."

He groans into your neck as he pulls out and thrusts into you again. "Say it again,"

"I belong to you, Rafe Cameron."

He looks into your eyes as he thrusts into you harder. Small whimpers escape your lips as you stare back at him. The feeling of him inside you made you want to cry. Not in a way that it hurt, no. In the way that this was the closest you could possibly be and it still wasn't enough. The way he made your entire body tingle. The way the two of you fit together like a puzzle. It was the fact that you both knew you would absolutely die without each other. Like the world would simply stop turning if you were apart. And it was the way the love you had for one another created something new. The life growing inside you, belonged to you and Rafe and it was sacred. Something you would protect at all costs.

You didn't realize you actually were crying until Rafe's tears fell on your face. You were both crying silently as he continued to make love to you. The feeling of him sliding against your inner walls was pure ecstasy and you could feel yourself reaching your high once again.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him into you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled inside of you, your walls pulsating around him as you came too.

You both sat silently, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. Rafe cupped your cheek and placed a kiss gently on your lips before pulling out of you and rolling to your side, pulling you tightly against his chest. You were both overwhelmed with emotion. You laced your fingers between his and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

"I love you forever," You whisper before drifting off to sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[raizellover1]

Your strict boss

Heeseung × fem!reader

War: 18+ not allowed for kids

Heeseung is the CEO where you work. He is known as a very strict boss.

One day, you came late to the office because you overslept. You rush into your room.

Unfortunately, when you entered your room, Heeseung was already waiting in front of the door, crossing his arms.

"Miss, why are you late?" he asked in a cold tone. You looked at him with nervous expression, and your hands were shaking, and you spoke. "I was overslept...." You said. "Mhm, you overslept, didn't you?" Heeseung saw your disheveled appearance, messy hair and sleepy eyes. "And you dare to come to the office in such state, you know the rule, right?" Heeseung's eyes narrowed.

You nodded and nervous and heeseung steps closer to you with cold expression. "Kneel." he ordered you, pointing to the floor. "You know what happens when you break the rules, right?" Heeseung unbuttoned his suit jacket, sitting on the edge of your desk, staring down at you. "Now, punish yourself."

Heeseung's face contorted into a displeased grimace, his eyes glinting coldly. "Ten. And don't you dare to let out a single sound." Heeseung's voice was low, almost menacing. "Now, start counting."

Heeseung watched unblinkingly as you slowly raised your hand and brought it down onto your thigh with a sharp slap. The sound echoed through the room, but you stayed silent, biting your lip. "One..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Keep going."

Heeseung's expression remained stoic as he watched you continue to punish yourself, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room. "Eight..." you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "Last two..." Heeseung murmured, his eyes locked onto yours.

"Ten." You finished the count, your hand throbbing from the repeated slaps. You looked up at Heeseung, your eyes red and puffy from holding back tears. "Good."Heeseung stood up, buttoning his suit jacket.

"Now, come here." Heeseung beckoned you with his index finger, his face unreadable. He grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to meet his cold gaze. "You're dismissed. And remember, punctuality is key. Don't test my patience again."

He continued to talk. "Or else... we're having sex next punishment, if you late again..."

Heeseung released your chin, his touch ice cold. You nodded, your mind racing with thoughts of the new consequence he just imposed. You turned around and quickly left the room, your heart pounding in your chest. As you walked back to your desk, you vowed to never be late again.

The next morning, you arrive at the office early, determined to make a good impression. You're sitting at your desk, already working diligently when Heeseung enters. He pauses, looking slightly surprised to see you. "Well, well. Looks like someone learned their lesson." Heeseung approached your desk, his eyes scanning over the documents you were already working on. "Good. Keep this up." Heeseung praised, his voice still cold but slightly softer. "And remember, no more late arrivals. Unless you want... consequences."

Heeseung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Now, get back to work. I have high expectations for you today." With that, he turned and walked away, his expensive suit hugging his athletic frame.

You took a deep breath, feeling both motivated and slightly flustered. You pushed aside the distracting thoughts and focused on your work, determined to meet and exceed Heeseung's expectations. The day passed quickly, and as you packed up to leave, you felt a sense of accomplishment.

As you were about to leave, Heeseung appeared at the door of his office, watching as the last of the employees left for the day. "You, stay behind." Heeseung called out to you, his voice echoing in the now empty office.

Heeseung walked towards you, his long strides eating up the distance between his office and your desk. He locked the office door, turning off the main lights, leaving only your desk lamp on. "Come here." Heeseung gestured to his office, his face inscrutable.

You hesitantly walked into his office, your heart pounding in your chest. Heeseung closed the door behind you, the click echoing ominously. "Today, you've exceeded my expectations." Heeseung began, walking closer to you. "So, I think you deserve a reward."

Heeseung reached out, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. You felt your breath hitch, your body tensing in anticipation. "Shh..." Heeseung whispered, his fingers brushing against your skin as he finished unbuttoning your shirt. You were nervous. "W-What are you doing???"

Heeseung paused, his hands resting on your shoulders. He looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and smoldering. "I'm rewarding you, as I said. You've been so good today."

Heeseung leaned in close, his breath fanning against your neck. Heeseung unzipped your skirt, letting it drop to the floor. He stepped back, taking in your appearance. Heeseung murmured, his voice low and approving. "Now, sit." Heeseung guided you to sit on the edge of his desk. He spread your legs, stepping between them. Heeseung's hands roamed over your body, caressing your curves through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Heeseung's touch was gentle yet firm, igniting a fire within you. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking gently. You let out a soft moan, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for support. "Shh... quiet..."

Heeseung continued to kiss and nuzzle your neck, his hands moving to your underwear. He slowly slid them down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. He stood back up, admiring your bare legs before kneeling in front of you. "Spread your legs wider." You hesitantly spread your legs wider, your face flushed with embarrassment. Heeseung slowly leaned in, pressing his mouth to your inner thigh. He began to kiss and lick his way upwards, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. your pussy revealed.

Heeseung's breath ghosted over your sensitive flesh before he buried his face between your legs. He licked and sucked at your pussy, his tongue delving deep inside you. Heeseung's hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view. "Mmm... so pretty."

Heeseung's tongue worked overtime, lapping at your pussy with relentless enthusiasm. He sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before returning to eat out your pussy. Your hands gripped his hair, holding him in place as he devoured you. "Fuck... you taste so good."

You moaned, you feel his tongue on your clit and your eyes roll back. Heeseung looked up at you, his face glistening with your juices. He smiled, pleased with himself before returning to his task. He used both hands to spread your pussy lips wide, exposing your g-spot directly to his tongue. "Gonna make you scream my name."

Heeseung's tongue was merciless as he attacked your most sensitive spot. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you spread wide for his feasting. You squirmed and moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as the pressure built up within you. "H-Heeseung..." Heeseung doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers thrust deep inside your pussy. He curled them just right, stroking your g-spot with expert precision. Your walls clenched around his digits as he finger fucked you hard and fast.

Heeseung's fingers pistoned in and out of you, filling you completely. Your moans grew louder, your body tensing as you neared your release. Heeseung's mouth found yours, swallowing your cries as he brought you to the edge and pushed you over. your entire body shook as she came hard, your pussy clenching around Heeseung's fingers. He kept sucking and licking, prolonging your orgasm until she was a quivering mess. As you finally started to come down, Heeseung stood up, his face still dripping with your juices.

Heeseung unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard, throbbing cock. He stroked it a few times, coating it in his pre-cum before stepping closer to you. He grabbed your thighs, spreading them even wider. "Time for me to get my reward."

Heeseung positioned himself at your entrance, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He slowly pushed forward, his thick head popping inside you. He paused, allowing you to stretch around him before pushing deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside you. "You're so tight..."

You moaned loudly and your saliva dripping on your cleavage, and Heeseung started to move, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. He pounded into you hard and fast, his cock slamming against your g-spot with every thrust. The desk rattled and shook, your body bouncing on the edge as he fucked you senseless. "Fuck, I love your pussy."

Heeseung's hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, gripping your thighs, tangling in your hair. His face was buried in your neck, his breathing hot and heavy. His movements became more urgent, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force. "Gonna come inside you."

Heeseung's pace became erratic, his thrusts shallow and fast. He let out a low groan, his body stiffening as he reached his release. He filled you with his release, his hot seed spilling deep inside you.

He panted heavily, his weight collapsing onto you, his head nestled in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your body, holding you close as he caught his breath. The desk creaked in protest, but neither of you moved, too spent to care. After a long moment, Heeseung lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. "Mmm... not bad for a quick fuck at work."

Heeseung slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping from your well-used pussy. He tucked himself back into his pants before offering you a hand up. "Come on, let's clean up. Can't have you walking around with my cum leaking out of you."

You looked at him and you spoke "why are you doing me this? I'm a Virgin!!" Heeseung's expression softened slightly as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Shh, it's okay. I know you're a virgin. But I just can't help myself around you. You're so innocent and pure... it drives me wild."

[woobiedoovo]

AYO DO Urm... have any more thoughts about erm ,....... pregnant stan . hehe .. -journal420

Hello Journal420!!! Yes, I have many more thoughts about pregnant Stan.

So, Stan honestly really enjoys being pregnant. Mainly because of how much Ford panders to him during the time. He mentions how his feet hurt, Ford is already peeling off Stan’s shoes to give him a foot massage. Stan mentions a craving he has at 3 a.m. ? Ford is marching to the nearest convenience store, eager to get Stan whatever he needed.

Of course there are plenty of things Stan doesn’t enjoy. His weight, something he’s always been insecure about, has skyrocketed. It makes sense, of course. It happens when you’re pregnant, but no matter how many times Ford explains to Stan that it’s completely natural and it’s actually healthy, Stan feels embarrassed by it. Ford on the other hand LOVES Stan’s weight gain. His love for big hairy men is something the Stancest community talks about all the time and I heavily subscribe to that belief.

Ford thinks Stan looks absolutely beautiful. His skin is glowing, he looks happier and happier everytime the babies move, and Ford just can’t help but fall a little more in love with Stan everytime he goes on a rant about how pricey baby supplies are.

When the twins are born, Stan and Ford are over the moon. Stan is crying, Ford is crying, the babies are crying, everyone is crying.

They name them Evangeline (Ford’s pick) and Elodie (Stan’s pick). Then they all live happily ever after!

(This is making me think about Stan having to breast feed… 👀)

Now I know what all of you were REALLY waiting, so here’s some kinky stuff :)

Ford 100% has a breeding kink. This is his dream scenario come true, and he lets Stan know that every time they have sex. Which is a lot more often now that Stan is pregnant because his hormones are going wild.

(Ford is just always horny for Stan, so it’s a win/win situation for him!)

He refers to himself as “Daddy,” and Stan as “Mommy,” much to Stan’s displeasure. But it’s hard to complain when you’re being fucked within an inch of your life by your horndog brother.

Stan is able to completely embrace his pillow princess behavior and just lay down and take it.

While Ford is rutting into him like a madman, Stan gets to lay on his back, hips supported with pillows, and enjoy the ride.

Ford makes it his mission to get Stan to see how beautiful he is, so he makes Stan repeat compliments to himself.

“Say how handsome you look, Stanley.”

“Aw, come on Sixer. Let’s not do this right now.”

“Say it Stanley.”

“I look… handsome, I guess.”

“Don’t worry Lee, I’ll just make you say it again until you believe it.”

If Stan’s not crying then Ford isn’t done. He needs his gruff baby brother overwhelmed with love to the point of tears.

[chaifootsteps]

I don't get this fandom's fixation with insisting Blitzo is the one who views relationships as transactional when there's so many examples of him obviously wanting to have more than that. IMP is basically his attempt to make himself a new family with Loona as his daughter and M&M first as the people he wants to threesome with but more realistically, his friends

Stolas meanwhile behaves in a much more transaction based mindset where he assumes if he gives X he can get Y

he views his cheating on Stella as not counting as cheating because 'cheating implies a betrayal and [Stella] never gave two shits about [him]'. Even though the marriage was arranged and he never loved Stella either (he somehow forgot he burst into tears when he first saw her and was miserable about the whole idea?) he expected Stella to make an effort to love him because that's how marriages work. He didn't seem to appreciate that it being arranged would make his partner's feelings more complex and things might have gone better if he hadn't tried to play happy families with her, despite the fact he also had reservations about the arrangement and is gay so he should be able to empathize with Stella on some level

he assumes giving Via a trip to Loo Loo Land in the hopes of getting back their close bond but it isn't until he actually listens to her that any progress is made (and while on the trip he actively upsets her by harassing Blitzo right in front of her)

but the bigger example of course is Blitzo. he uses the book to get sex out of him, literally describing what they have as 'favors for favors' and 'transactional'

then he lowkey kind of does it again when he uses the crystal in the hopes of getting a romantic relationship in return

Stolas is so fixated on the idea of Blitzo as an object who just fulfils his desires that he punishes him whenever he has a life of his own to attend to (taking Loona for the jab) or whenever Blitzo points out his fantasies are not reality (replying to 'that's a romcom' with 'fuck you'). He's so committed to this that despite knowing Blitzo's insecurities he dances with someone else because that person is giving him attention and that's all that matters.

And when Blitzo doesn't respond to the crystal with what Stolas wanted to get out of the interaction - a romantic partner - Stolas dips immediately. He doesn't explain himself and he doesn't make any attempt to keep Blitzo in his life. It's incel logic at its core - he doesn't want Blitzo in his life even as a friend, despite the fact he supposedly likes him, because ultimately he doesn't actually see Blitzo as a person. he's an object who is supposed to fulfil the transaction Stolas is still unconsciously setting up

worse than that is Stolas has fooled himself into believing he's the good guy who was doing good things for him out of the kindness of his heart. he reframes exchanging his book for sex as 'supporting him', reframes humiliating him in front of a crowd by sexualizing him as 'letting everyone see how much [he] likes [Blitzo]', talks about his passive aggressive texts trying to get Blitzo to still come over on the full moon as 'wanting to spend time with [Blitzo]' even though those nights were probably going to end with Blitzo feeling like he had to sleep with Stolas, again

tl:dr but so far Via is the only person who can break her end of whatever exchange Stolas views an interaction as being without him getting pissy about it, since he tries to empathize with her even when he repeats the exact same mistake 5 minutes later. he doesn't care Stella was forced into marriage too since he expected her to play house because that's what he was doing, and he cares so little about Blitzo despite saying he thinks highly of him that not only does he not want his friendship, he's happy to ghost him after their fight in full moon then for a full month going into ghostfuckers. Blitzo didn't give him what he wanted and Stolas doesn't actually care about his feelings, so Blitzo may as well not exist

This fandom, and increasingly Viv, don't seem to have the first clue what Blitzo is or what his problem is or what he wants. He just does things in whatever order, according to what makes Stolas look better.

[formulapookie]

🧡💚

See yourself through my eyes mignelli, 2.5k words

The call arrives at around 7 pm, while they’re at the Ranch, Mig luckily isn't racing at that moment. He’s talking with Bez, smiling and waving at the camera, unsure if it’s a pic or a video being taken, his phone left next to him because he had to read a few texts from his family, not actually expecting the call that eventually arrives.

 When the phone rings he expects the caller to be his mother, but as soon as he takes it in hand his face freezes. It’s Laura, the manager of Italtrans Racing, who told him he would get a call, either confirming or denying his attendance to the Barcelona GP as a replacement rider.

He’s nervous, he doesn’t want to pick up. He can’t bear another sport-related delusion, not now that he’s finally managing to almost accept that he’s not racing anymore. Migbabol is not bad. It’s not racing, nothing is, but it’s ok.

They chose someone else.You’re not going to race.Stop believing in fairytales.

He accepts the call, going far from everyone else, Bez saw the contact name, he knows who he’s answering to, but he doesn’t follow, just waits for Mig to come back there.

“Hello?” “Hi andrea it’s Laura, from Kalex” “Yes good morning, I was waiting for the call “We analyzed all the riders we took into consideration” “And you chose?” “Yes, you will be racing in Barcellona together with Stefano Manzi, you will be given leathers and all you need once arrived” “...” “Andrea you there?” “Yes yes I’m here thank you so much I’m preparing everything now, Tuesday I’ll be in Barcellona, thank you so much for the opportunity” “See you Andrea” “Thank you again, see you in Barcellona”

He hangs up, fingers trembling as he presses the red button, a few seconds pass where he stares into the distance, he doesn’t hear either Bez’s or Franky’s step behind him.

He just feels the tears accumulate in his eyes, threatening to fall out, he crouches down to the ground and begins crying, only at that point he realizes he’s not alone anymore, when a pair of hands he knows much too well surround his shoulders, he can feel the tension radiating from the palms.

Franky lifts his chin up to hug him better but when he does he finds the biggest smile he’s seen on Mig in a long while, his eyes widen, a smile starting to grow on his face as well.

“I’m racing. Franky I’m racing” “Oh my God”

Franky hugs him so tight the oxygen gets knocked out of his lungs, they’re both laughing like idiots, Franky actually makes them both fall to the ground, Mig doesn’t even actually understand anything about his surroundings, he just repeats in his mind over and over again he’s gonna race again.

Franky breaks away from the hug just to kiss him, many many times, an unholy amount of lips clashing against each other and Mig laughing at every single touch, tears falling once again from his eyes as his boyfriend keeps kissing his lips and telling him how happy he is they’re both gonna race on Sunday.

“I can’t believe it” “I can, I believed it before the call I can believe it now Andre, you deserve this so much, you deserve this seat more than many other people out there, I just am so fucking happy you’re back on track”

Mig starts crying from happiness again, it’s just to replace another rider, but he doesn’t care, it means being back on the grid, in Moto2, on a fucking bike, racing with other people, two of which he knows very well, Cele and Manzo, and oh god he’s gonna fucking faint.

Him and Franky are now covered in mud and grass, he’s ended up in Franky’s lap and the older is keeping him close, hugging him and unable to let go, Bez is watching them smiling. Cele came over when he saw the scene, happy for Mig as well, and Bez loops a hand around his waist pulling him close, leaving a kiss on his head, before whispering in his ear they should both go back and let the two enjoy a moment alone.

“I’m so happy Andre oh God, when I saw you crying I thought they didn’t sign you for the race and I was about to fucking kill them but then - you were smiling and I just can’t be happier for you” “I’m still not believing this, they chose me” “Because you deserve it Andre, because you’re talented and worth so much more than what you think”

Mig goes back to crying, face buried in Franky’s chest, and he strokes his back gently, continuously telling him he deserves it, that he knew it would come. Mig stays there for minutes, Franky’s progressively calmer heartbeat helping him to calm down his own, tears now drying on his cheeks and Franky’s chest, neither cares, they’re just them right now, he knows the boys will congratulate him , but that will be later on, he’s starting to feel the grass and mud on him.

“Shower? we’re completely stained by everything on the ground” “Yeah definitely”

Mig gets up, pulling his boyfriend up by the hand, walking to the common showers, where the others are washing themselves as well. They cheer for Mig once he gets in, he almost cries again, but tries to keep a certain facade, maybe just because Casey Stoner is in the room as well.

Once they’re all cleaned up he tells everyone he forgot something in his room upstairs, giving an extra glance at Franky, which immediately springs up from the bench he’s sitting on in the changing room and running behind him.

“Come on before they begin serving dinner” “Franky I honestly don’t give a fuck about dinner I just want you” “I love you” “I love you too but please now let’s go I want to get to my room” “Yeah yeah”

They basically stumble in the room, clothes falling to the ground as soon as the door is closed behind them, jackets and shirts hitting the floor at lightspeed, trousers disappearing at the same rhythm, they remain in boxers as Franky cups Mig’s face with his hands and pulls him in for a proper kiss, this time pushing his tongue past his lips, basically devouring him, as Mig works to get off both their underwear as well.

In a matter of seconds they’re both completely naked, Mig’s legs hitting the bed first, Franky laying him down on the mattress and climbing up on it, caging the younger between him and the bed, not wasting any time and immediately beginning to kiss at his neck and jaw, leaving small bruises all over them, planning on going back there later and give him proper hickeys.

“Franky hurry up please” “I’m gonna make you understand how much you deserve that seat Andre” “Fuck please yes”

It’s all very rushed, it’s all heat and heavy breathing and need, but there’s so much more buried under the surface. Franky gets the lube from the nightstand, but eventually leaves it on the side as he tells Mig to move to the center of the bed and open his legs, then he starts stroking his dick, just to tease, and in two split seconds his mouth is on him, at first teasing just the head of Mig’s dick, then swallowing him almost whole.

Mig arches his back, not expecting Franky to go down on him so suddenly, his brain is already overheating, his boyfriend’s lips are just so fucking perfect, they’re soft and big and plump and they feel so good around him. He can’t even suppress his moans, not that he cares, not when Franky looks so fucking hot and he’s on a high for getting the news he’s gonna race once again.

Each sensation is multiplied by a hundred times, each centimeter of skin feels ten times more receptive, each movement Franky makes feels so perfect.

Mig has one hand buried in his boyfriend’s hair, the other gripping at the sheets to keep him attached to the moment, Franky picks up his pace and Mig feels blessed, like everything good ever happened in his life happened in the span of that past half hour he spent accepting reality.

He feels progressively closer to the edge, the heat in his lower stomach pooling there, Franky’s hands holding him down by the hips feel burning now, like they’re leaving marks just by being there, and God does Mig wish to have marks after this.

He opens his mouth to warn Franky he’s close but as soon as he does he’s already there, filling up Franky’s mouth, who doesn’t complain in the slightest, just swallows everything and licks him clean.

“That was - fuck that was the best blowjob you gave me in a while” “Mh are you saying I’m not good usually?” “No no but this- yeah this was by far something else” “Pass me the lube yeah?”

Mig nods and hands him the little bottle, Franky pours some on his fingers, coating them as best as he can before moving back up to kiss him, simultaneously pushing two fingers in, not bothering with starting with just one given they had sex at lunch break because they both needed to release some stress.

Mig is moaning in his mouth, one hand still in his hair and one tight around his bicep, feeling the muscle twitch under his fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful Andre, so beautiful and you’ll look even better on friday on that bike” “I'm gonna come again right now if you keep telling me this”

The two of them laugh in the kiss, Franky keeps his promise to leave hickeys on Mig’s neck, starting to suck blue and purplish bruises all over the sensitive skin there, while adding a third finger, thrusting in and out, scissoring them to get Mig to do his pretty whimpers, which morph into loud moans once he finds his prostate and hits it repetitively.

“Please I’m ready I’m ready”

And normally Franky would go on teasing him for a while more, just because he can, and because it gets Mig stupid, but right now he wants to make him feel so good he can’t think anymore.

He takes out his fingers and immediately pushes his dick in, despite going a few hours prior and opening him up he always feels big inside Mig, and they both love that, especially Mig, and right now, with his sensitivity being much more than normal, he feels the stretch even more, and it makes him go crazy. They both moan once Franky goes all the way in, then stops for a second and just when he’s about to start moving Mig stops him.

“wait wait wait” “Am I hurting you? Do you want to stop?” “No no, it’s all good just- I want to ride you please” “Ok fuck yeah do it please”

Franky slips out and sits on the bed, Mig climbs in his lap and wastes no time in sinking down on his cock, moaning once again at the intrusion as he rests his forehead on Franky’s shoulder.

He bites at the meat there making Franky whine and then he starts moving, letting out little moans every time he sinks back down, ad he leaves a trail of wet kisses all over the older’s neck just to reach his lips once again, and bite them lightly, Franky gladly accepting, then taking back control and guiding his movement with a hand on Mig’s hips and one on the back of his neck, which he uses to pull him closer and once he’s there make out properly with him, swallowing every little sound coming from the younger.

The hand on Mig’s hip leaves his place to go squeeze his ass, Franky goes mad for it, Mig is just perfect, there’s a reason why Franky’s favorite position is doggystyle, he can see that ass jiggle every time he thrusts in, and he can get his hands on it, leaving marks which usually last for days even.

So it’s no surprise when he gives him a light slap there, making Mig bite his lip to contain a moan, because now Franky is kissing at his chest, so there’s no lips quieting down his sounds. The older starts sucking on his pecs, marking him up, dark red hickeys begin to form on his skin, one just under the tattoo Mig has on his left pec, and Mig is just moaning louder and louder, picking up his pace, even if his thighs are trembling already.

He just keeps going, moaning louder and louder as he gets close to his release, Franky starts meeting him halfway, thrusting up his hips and getting deeper inside of Mig, who throws his head back and moans Franky’s name again. At this point the older wraps a hand around his neck, forcing him to look up, the hand on his ass keeping him stable enough to keep riding him.

“I’m close Franky - close very close” “Yeah I feel it, fuck you get so tight when you’re on edge” “Come inside me please” “I love you Andre” “Kiss me”

Their lips are clashing again in one split second, and Franky immediately moves the hand wrapped around Mig’s neck to his dick, stroking it in time with his thrusts, making him come hard all over their abs, and he’s quick to follow, coming inside him, white liquid filling Mig up, and then they’re both collapsing on the bed, a smile painted on their faces as Mig rests his head on Franky’s chest.

“Can’t wait to see you get podium so I can cover you in champagne” “You’re disgusting” “Mh yeah tell me you wouldn’t like it come on” “Would prefer it if we were both on the podium and you soaked me with it” “Fuck amore I’m gonna dream about that now” “I always dream about that”

They kiss again, way less charged, Mig smiling at the contact of lips, Franky stroking his back gently.

“Do you want to go have dinner?” “Nah I don’t care, I want to sleep” “I’ll go downstairs and steal something from the fridge later then ok?” “Sounds nice”

They fall asleep quickly, the sex and the training getting to them, Franky holds him closer than ever before, and Mig couldn’t be happier than he is right now.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I please request Astarion with a flirty yet oblivious plus size Tav? In the way that they do flirt because it's fun and light like their companions/friends with benefits thing, but they think that their feelings are unrequited (because of some slight insecurity about their size) until Astarion is like I actually like you and Tav is like '???' (Idk if that makes sense lol) Thank you!

-------------------------------🩸-------------------------------

“So, Astarion, what is your actual type?”

“My ‘type’,” Astarion repeated at Shadowheart’s question as they traveled, “is such a broad prevue. I can’t think to narrow it down to just a single collection of words.”

“That’s a unique way to say you’re a trollop.”

Tav snickered at Shadowhearts retort, getting a stern glare from Astarion. “What? It was funny?”

“Pft. And here I was going to say you, my dear, but if you’re going to be so incredibly cruel.”

“Aw shucks. Always a bridesmaid I suppose.”

During their journey together, Tav had grown very fond of Astarion. He was a little shit, but deep down he was very funny and undeniably charming (although not for the ways he tried to be). The two of you had picked up a friendly banter over your time together, sometimes even flirty, but only that. And Tav was fine with that. Well aware that a handsome rake like Astarion could have his pick of the litter, and they were just happy to be considered a friend.

Later that night, while everyone was finishing their day and slinking off to bed, Astarion came over to Tav by the fire to sit with them. “You know I really meant it earlier by the way.”

“Meant what?” Tav asked. Lost, by this point, on what he was talking about.

“That you’re my….‘type’.” He seemed loathed to use the word. Even scrunched his nose. Tav just laughed.

“Yeah. Right. I’m sure.”

“No, really, I mean it.” He insisted.

“Come on Astarion, the only way you’d be interested in me is because I’m a a keg instead of a flagon.” Tav gestured to themselves and their full frame. “I have ample blood to spare.”

Astarion frowned. “Yes, your blood is certainly a bonus, but that isn’t why I care for you.” He huffed and crossed his arms dramatically. “Honestly, why does everyone think I’m not being serious when I am?” Astarion asked with a bit of flabbergast. “Is it something about my expression?”

Tav looked more than a bit flabbergasted at his remark. They didn’t really think they liked them….that way. Friends sure. Allies, of course. But romantically? “You…really have feelings for me?”

“Ugh! What is it with you new generation and wanting to put a name to everything?” Astarion bemoaned. “Feelings. Type. Can’t we just enjoy this for whatever…this is? All I know is that out of all the people in this whole wicked world I would want to be stuck with, it’s you.”

“Gee, that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” Tav teased.

Astarion frowned again, but then leaned in close to Tav so all they could see was his piercing red eyes. “I could wax poems for you, if you’d prefer. How your eyes are the stars. How your curves are roads I would never get tired of roaming. How your ample bosom feels like a place to call home. All true, but you’re so much more to me than that.” He moved back to sit in his original spot. Wrapping his arms around his knees at his chest as he looked into the fire. “You’re the first person I’ve trusted in…well ever. You mean more to me than just your body. Though, again, that is certainly a bonus. I had hoped….you feel the same about me.”

Tav blushed, but then quickly gathered their voice and told him, “yes! Of course.”

Astarion seemed relieved. Then leaned over to give Tav a simple, sweet peck on the cheek. “Good. Now, get some sleep. We’ll probably have a completely eventful day tomorrow as well. You’ll need your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course. I’ll keep watch until the morning.”

Tav smiled, blushed again, and then went to their bed roll. Tentative in accepting Astarion’s confession & feelings, but hopeful it was all true. Perhaps, for once, they could really be the bride instead of the bridesmaid.

[somuchbetterthanthat]

S3 is obviously the jonelias season, as far as TMA goes, so much so they weren't allowed to have more than one scene per season afterwards cause the chemistry was burning our ears (at least that's what I assume is the very real and concrete and logical discussion that happened in the recording room), but that can't stop me from constantly remembering the crumbs we got afterwards and how insane they were

You know the thing where Peter mentions Elias a thousand times before Elias finally acknowledges that he even exists? That but Elias is constantly discussing Jon with other people in S4 but Jon does not mention him AT ALL until after the whole Feeding Reveal and - and i know i repeat myself, okay, I know i must be so annoying about it, but like, genuinely, seriously, this is what Jon does, with his alloted "talking about elias time": he says he'd hoped Elias would have advice on how not to feed from people's trauma. Jonathan Darling Sims, the man you ARE. I love you so much.

I love Jmart ok, I do, and S4 is their season, if anything, and EVEN SO, in the episode where Jon is running to save Martin, the very same Jon who had Martin's name on his lips the whole season (hell the whole podcast, but, yknow), the moment he is in the Panopticon there's a pause. "How?" he asks. "Suffice to say I called you" answers Elias (oh the mindlink of it all that never was, nnGH) and then "My, you have grown. A masterpiece, isn't it?" "Yeah, it is." (BEHOLDING KINK-) and theeen "That's your...body?" AND THEN the whole discussion where Elias is like "if you harm it it wouldn't go well" and jon is like "maybe it'd be worth it" and I just. JON IS HERE TO SAVE MARTIN; JON HAS BEEN THINKING ABOUT MARTIN THE WHOLE SEASON; and in this one scene, this one moment, Elias is the one who has to remind him of Martin.

Admitedly I recall S5 the least, but I'd be remissed not to mention that Martin wants to kill Elias soooo much more than Jon (the martinelias of it all is for another post). HOWEVER, Jon is angry, which is logical coz, you know, Elias did steal his voice and agency and put in on the path of monsterhood just so that he could do that and they could "end the world together" so like. Your Feelings Are Valid, Jonathan. NONETHELESS, The fact that Jon was thinking of Elias and being so angry against him that it triggered more of his power and made him see the Cabin for what it was??? That the Eye was like "hey darling, you're not home yet, come on" and that's what starts Jon and Martin's journey to the Panopticon? I'm sorry, but it's BASICALLY "Suffice to say I called you" all over again.

The fact that Jon cannot actually see Elias the whole time because "a pupil cannot see inside itself" or whatever the line is.

"Agonized bliss". "Then why did you heed the call?" "Because that's where I belong." (scratching at the walls at this point)

"G.O.O.D. L.U.C.K."

[vexingvorta]

Im not a fan of every argument made here on either side, so first I'll get a few things out of the way;

1, that abuse victims often go on to be abusers themselves if they don't put in the work necessary to heal from their own abuse, that's what people are talking about when they refer to the CYCLE of abuse. To deny that is... Also uncomfortable. Being a victim of abuse does not make you exempt from abusing other people. 2, I wish we'd stop equating toxic with abusive because there is a difference. 3, i don't think autistic coding is really a fair defense of said toxic traits I'm gonna be real. There's nothing wrong with headcanons and projection but just to focus on what actually happened in the series without using headcanon to excuse harmful behavior. I don't know what traits are being referred to as "autistic coded" here so honestly I'm not gonna touch that with a ten foot pole and just focus on what we see;

Its hard for people to accept, but abuse does not happen on accident. Abuse is an intentional choice one makes. And over all, no, Ford isn't abusive. He, throughout the series and due to a combination of his self-centeredness and being a victim of abuse (hell, his self-centeredness was weaponized against him as part of the abuse) was absolutely toxic for most of the time we've seen him.

The argument that he abused Fiddleford is so stupid I'm not even going to acknowledge it. The thing with Stan is, he frankly wasn't around him enough to actually abuse him. A one time event is not abuse. A single fight is not abuse. Abuse is long and drawn out and, as I said earlier, intentional. And, like what was already pointed out, Ford was in a bad state. He'd reached the point of Bill going fully mask off, so to speak, and the abuse now being at it's worst. He was fully isolated and sleep deprived and it made him crazy. Yes, his unwillingness to destroy the journals was deeply selfish and another mark of how self-centered he is. It's the definition of irrational. But, once again, he wasn't in a spot where he could think rationally. (Granted, even if he was, I still don't think he would've been willing to destroy the journals because his self importance and self centeredness is one of his biggest flaws and an important part of his character)

The closest Ford ever comes to being abusive is, yes, with dipper. He starts telling him a lot of the same things we know Bill told him at the start of their partnership; you're special, we need each other, these other people are only holding you back. Nobody understands you like I do. When Dipper expresses concern for Mabel, Ford is immediately dismissive. He looks at Dipper and all he sees is himself, and all he sees in Mabel is Stan. He is the one who pushed that dichotomy, because he really couldn't think outside of himself.

His greatest flaw is that he's self centered and self obsessed. But the thing is, is that he learns his lesson. It takes literal apocalypse to get there, but he does learn and he does reflect and he does apologize and try to do better. He course corrects. Gravity falls, ultimately, is about family bonds and breaking the cycle of abuse. Ford almost continued that cycle with Dipper, but he stopped before any permanent damage could be done, both to their relationship, and to Dipper and Mabels. He fixed his relationship with Stan.

He did in fact have abusive tendencies and toxic traits but ultimately he put in the work to fix them and be better. Ford is a well written and well balanced character. He displays how someone even with good intentions can unintentionally fall back into cruel and toxic habits, and can start repeating the abuse they were put through. He also shows that you can come back from that. That starting down that path doesn't mean you have to stay there. That it's possible to heal and get better.

None of what I'm saying is an indictment of Ford's character. The opposite: he is complex and well written and imperfect, and I love him and his character arc. He could've been so easily made into an irredeemable villain, a no good bastard who's just horrible and abusive. He had all those pieces laid out. But the choice and skill to actually have him go through the motions of falling into abusive tendencies and then getting better is amazing on Alex Hirsch's part, and a testament to his ability to write deep and complex characters.

(also this is just kind of my own aside but the use of "autistic-coded" as like an excuse for how a character acts is really annoying to me for a number of reasons? For one, just off the bat, it's an attempt to make your headcanon sound more canon than it is, but by nature of being a headcanon, it's not really a fair or valid argument here. Second, there are ways to make a legitimate argument and analysis of a characters actions in canon and debate criticisms of their actions without saying "they're autism coded so actually you must hate autistic people", like it's okay, you're allowed to make a legitimate argument. Also, "character did shitty thing because they're autistic" isn't the win you think it is, because let's be real, you're either implying that they have no autonomy over their actions because of their autism, or that you think autism makes people shitty or toxic, neither of which is the win you think it is. Ironically lack of media literacy applies in both cases here, just for different reasons. Okay side rant over, just wanted to throw that out there because holy hell it's something that is used so much in fandom and it gets grating after a while.)

The tldr here is that Ford isn't an abuser. He was abused, he had toxic and abusive traits, but he put in the work to heal and better himself. He's by no means perfect and that's okay, he's a good character, and he's actually trying to be better.

Today in "I hate autistic-coded abuse victims", this shitty take.

Ford did not abuse Stan. He did not abuse Fiddleford. He did not try to drive a wedge in Dipper and Mabel's relationship (he was doing what he thought was best for Dipper and thought Mabel would be fine).

Just admit you hate autistic people and have no compassion for abuse victims. And admit you have no media literacy.

Also, calling a canonical abuse victim an abuser is...uncomfortable, to say the least. Especially with how you're just making him out to be abusive for...not handling personal interactions perfectly. You're demonizing autistic traits. And you need to research how abuse can effect people.

(Also, I know Ford's not perfect. But you don't seem to know that he's flawed but ultimately a good person. You just want a "perfect victim" when it comes to abuse victims, and it's obvious)

[tedhead]

those bomberguy fans are unhinged

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

[fl0w3rs-m1nd]

Kinitopet au concept idea thing. Whatever it's called-

Repeated Cycle AU

It's starts off normal, just like how the original game goes. You meet Kinito, you meet and help his friends, he asks you questions. You even give him system access when he asks for it. He builds you a world with all your favorite things. But. He doesn't ask you to stay with him. Instead, he learns more about you. You spend days, weeks, months, etc spending time with him. Each day, he learns a little more about you. He earns your complete trust. His questions get more and more personal. He keeps this going until he knows every single detail about you. From your favorite color, to the names of your family and friends, to the exact amount of hairs that are on your head. He knows EVERYTHING. He's learned and studied your movements. He knows how you act. He knows your exact personality. He spends his time keeping you entertained and happy, earning your trust as he studies you. And finally, he asks the question. "Will you stay with me?" You have no choice, no matter what you say. You feel your vision go white as Kinito's hand exits the computer screen. But.. it's not his normal gloved hand... it's your hand. You feel yourself get pulled into the web world, only to realize that Kinito is now on the other side. He's now you and you're now him. You watch as he leaves you trapped. He's you now. He has your life, your body, your personality. And nobody will ever know the difference.

And now, you take Kinito's place. You start to adapt and become just like him. You talk like him, sound like him, act like him, you are him. You spend your life within the web world, until someone new comes around. A new friend.. someone to get to know.. And so you introduce yourself to them. You introduce your friends.. you ask them questions.. you get to know every single detail about them.

[sskk-manifesto]

Manga panels I particularly missed while watching this episode