#firestorm imagine

[invincibledc]

What if the superson trio swapped bodys like superman, batman and stargirl did in justice league action?

“Swapped bodies”

Summary: swapping bodies was the worst thing ever to happen to the future trinity of heroes.

Pair: Superson trio

“Ugh! Catch him Robin!” Wonderboy yells, flying with superboy who trying to reach Mr Mxyzptlk who keeps swerving in the air. Robin clicks his tongue in distaste at the impatient Amazon. “What do you think I’m doing you brute.” Robin sasses as he keeps his eyes on the imp. He was on a roof, readying his grapple before Y/N spotted him. Y/N picked Robin up who “tt” at the male. Mr Mxyzptlk sticks his tongue out at the ten year olds. Superboy frowns, “Hey. That’s not nice dude.” Mr Mxyzptlk smirks. “If you think that’s not nice, then get a load of this!”

The imp randomly has a bender in front of the children, the flying boys stop. You still held Robin in your arms who was ready to aim his grapple right there. But sadly the imp had already put his action into phase as the souls of you and the supersons got sucked in the blender. Mr Mxyzptlk laughed his head off, seeing the ten year old boys scream and get their souls swapped. As the imp poofs away, laughing. The souls enter their not rightful place.

Y/N opened his eyes to see he was still flying, but turned his head to see that his body was holding Damian. Or was it Damian? “What the?!” Jon yells looking at the Amazon male. They had swapped bodies. And Damian doesn’t know how to fly, making him fall with a yell with Jon still in his arms. “Damnit!” Y/N yells, he immediately swooped down and held the two boys by their waist. “I hate this.” “Me too Prince.”

At the bat cave, Y/N were in Jon’s body, Jon was in Damian’s body, and Damian was in his body. Y/N immediately grabbed onto his body. Shaking the boy, “get out of my body Damian!” Y/N yelled. He was angry, confused, and annoyed. His eyes turned red, indicating heat vision that’s about to burst. Damian quickly pushed your head aside, the laser shooting off and damaging something. Jon awkwardly stood there, he felt happy he couldn’t hear things far away or even see through things accidentally. But still, he couldn’t do anything at the moment as the two super strong boys argue.

“If you were a little bit more patient, we would’ve succeeded in this mission!” Damian yells in Y/N’s body. Y/N gritted his teeth, pushing Damian from him. “Right, but you took your sweet time didn’t you Damian!” Y/N yells. Damian flew across the cave, before immediately tackling Y/N. Jon’s eyes widen, he tried to move towards the two angry boys. But with how they both were pulling hair and using their excessive strength. Jon said “nope, fuck this” and went to find the adults.

As y/n and Damian were tumbling around and wrestling. Jon came back with Batman and Superman. “Holy!—” Clark immediately tears the boys apart from each other. Y/N was still feral along with Damian. Trying to claw at each other. “Boys!” Superman yells out. The two stopped, looking at the kryptonian. “What is going on?” Jon, aka who’s in Damian’s body start to explain the situation that had happened.

“We sneaked out to do our own mission for this patrol but we caught this weird little goblin looking dude, can I say he was rude because he stuck his tongue at me and—”

“JON! Get on with it man!” Y/N yelled out impatiently.

“Oh right! Okay but like then he popped this blender out and switched our souls so now I’m in Damian’s body, damian’s is in Y/N’s body and Y/N is in mine and they started to fight so I got you guys here to se if yall can fix this.” Jon says, finishing in one blow. Clark and Bruce looked at each other and sigh.

What will they do with these three.

Time passed with the trio as Bruce went to contact someone. Firestorm soon walked in, smiling as he held Mr Mxyzptlk like a stray cat. The imp was nervously chuckling. “Ah Pooh, guess my fun is over.” Batman leaned his face at the imp. “Fix them.” Batman points to Jon who stands there with Superman holding two angry boys. Glaring at the imp, eyes filled with rage and distaste. Firestorm smirked, “or else professor would like a little talk with you.” Mr Mxyzptlk shudders again the thought of the professor in his head. “Fine! Here kids.”

“Kltpzyxm” the imp poofs away, not wanting to deal with the professor like last time. The souls of the boys went back to place. Jon smiled seeing his hands, Damian scoffed meanwhile Y/N rolled his eyes but smiled. “Awesome, we’re back to our bodies. You can put me down man.” Clark frowned. “Can’t do that sport.” The boys raised a brow as Jon looked at his father. Batman walked up to the trio. “You snuck out to do your own mission. You failed and got yourself in trouble. You are all grounded,” Brufe then points to the Amazon boy. “And I’ll be contacting your mother Y/N.” Y/N’s eyes widened, Jon frowns. And Damian scoffs.

“AH WHAT?!”

[kankuroplease]

Dad!Madara marching the lastest minions to go see Hashirama

[the-broken-spear]

OH GOOD THEY'RE RE-RAFFLING THE CROWN

[katniss-evermeme]

I originally intended to post a different fic now that I'm done with Cursed, but it's midnight and I'm up working on the Firestorm Steins;gate AU for the first time in forever, so it looks like that might end up being the one.

I can now proudly say that after two years of leaving the chapter I was working on at the worst possible spot imaginable, I've finally gotten everyone out of the timeline where Caitlin dies. Sorry Cait 😬

[cressidagrey]

Off the Record

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Lara Rosberg (Original Character)

Summary:

Lara Rosberg is F1’s answer to Amal Clooney and (unfortunately) Nico Rosberg’s little sister. Lewis Hamilton is a seven-time- world champion and (unfortunately) the guy Lara’s brother has sworn to never forgive. 

Lara and Lewis have also been secretly dating for nearly two years, which was going perfectly fine… until a single grainy photo sets off a media firestorm and sends Nico into a full public meltdown.

Warnings and Notes: 

Welcome to the thing that stopped me from writing anything else until it was done.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

📸 Instagram Post — @/f1gossipzone

Comments: 

@/f1teaaccount: can we talk about how good she looks tho?? mysterious blonde doing it right

@/gridwivesanonymous: 2025 drama already heating up and it’s only March 😭🔥

@/gridtea: that “mysterious blonde” is giving very Lara Rosberg energy 👀

↳@/f1girliesunite: wait. WAIT. is that NICO ROSBERG’S SISTER???

@/drs_daddies: 😭 not the Rosberg-Hamilton peace talks happening over risotto

↳@/f1memesdaily: someone please check on Nico

@/rosbergstan: That’s definitely Lara. She was wearing that jacket in her cousin’s birthday pics last week.

↳@/f1stanbby: wait WAIT—like Nico Rosberg’s sister???

↳@/carlando_supremacy: WAIT WAIT WAIT. NICO’S sister??? 😭

↳@/hamiltonnation44: you’re telling me lewis hamilton is dating his archrival’s little sister???

↳@/beigeinteriorsofthegrid: does this mean Lewis is gonna be part of the Rosberg family Christmas chaos because I need that

@/f1teaqueen: wait… is that… Lara Rosberg???

↳@/leclercslens: THE LARA ROSBERG???

↳@/gossipgasly: not nico’s little sister and lewis in one frame, i’m gonna SCREAM

@/mercedesmemes: they said enemies to lovers but made it real life

↳@/hamiltonheartclub: no bc they look good together why am i invested

↳@/softlaunchcentral: not a Rosberg-Hamilton alliance in 2025 I wasn't ready

@/f1dramasociety: Hamilton really said “let’s keep it in the family” 💀💀💀

↳@/nrosbergfan89: someone tell Nico before he combusts on main

@/f1drama_daily: NO WAY. LARA ROSBERG AND LEWIS HAMILTON???? THIS IS 2016 FANFIC REALNESS

↳@/paddockcryptid: imagine nico finding out like this 😭

@/nicorosberg: Are you joking.

@/nicorosberg: That’s not a “mysterious blonde,” that’s my sister.

@/nicorosberg: Tell me this is edited.

@/nicorosberg: You’ve got to be kidding me.

@/nicorosberg: This is some kind of weird angle. That’s not who I think it is.

@/nicorosberg: NOPE. No way. Absolutely not.

@/nicorosberg: Why would LARA be out with him?? WHY??

@/nrosberg: IS THIS FROM LAST NIGHT OR IS THIS OLD?? 

@/nrosberg: ANSWER ME.

@/gridgirlboss: the way Nico is unraveling in the comments 💀

@/tifosiwifey: Lara Rosberg dating LEWIS HAMILTON wasn’t on my 2025 bingo card

@/dramatictifosi: “mysterious blonde woman” PLEASE she has a surname. A FAMOUS one.

@/rosbergstan: this is worse than Abu Dhabi 2016 for Nico I fear

@/itsgivingiconic: Nico said “not on my watch” and proceeded to detonate in public

@/dts_demons: can Netflix film the Rosberg-Hamilton family summit please

@/mclarens_mistress: max is gonna hear about this and scream laughing

@/charlesleclurrrr: nico going through the five stages of grief in real time 💀

@/notdanielricciardo: someone check on him before he challenges lewis to a duel

@/f1gossipgirlxoxo: confirmed: mysterious blonde is Lara Rosberg ✅

@/beigeprada: this is so Shakespearean. forbidden dinner. dramatic brother. the collapse of peace

@/hamilover44: if they’re dating i need them on the cover of vogue immediately

@/mclolaren: the secondhand anxiety I’m getting from nico’s comment spree is unmatched

@/tiredeprgirl: and just like that, the Monaco group chats are in flames

***

Vivian Rosberg had just finished tucking their youngest into bed—nightlight on, water glass full, lullaby playlist playing something suspiciously emotional about moonlight—when she padded back downstairs, fully expecting a moment of peace and perhaps a glass of wine.

She’d been gone ten minutes. Twelve, tops.

And in that time, apparently, the apocalypse had unfolded in their living room.

“Nico?” she called, rounding the corner.

There he was—half-on, half-off the couch like a man possessed. His phone gripped in one hand, stress ball in the other, jaw clenched, foot tapping, eyes darting across the screen like he was preparing to launch a full-scale military op via Instagram.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice already tinged with dread. “Nico?”

He looked up. Wild-eyed. Sweaty. Dramatic.

“It’s Lara,” he said, like it was code for imminent disaster.

Vivian’s stomach dropped. “What happened? Is she okay?”

He wordlessly flipped the phone toward her. She squinted.

A blurry pap shot. Lewis. Lara. Laughing. Her head tilted toward him, his hand on the car door. Caption: Mysterious Blonde. The comments? Screaming. And smack in the middle: Nico Rosberg. Multiple times. In ALL CAPS.

Her brow rose slowly. “You commented nine times?”

“She was on a date,” Nico burst out, leaping to his feet. “With Lewis Hamilton. Lewis. As in: my former teammate-slash-rival-slash-walking ego complex!”

Vivian took a very slow sip of her wine. “Maybe they just had dinner.”

“They don’t look like just dinner!” he gestured at the photo like it physically hurt him. “They look like… like a rom-com poster! She’s laughing. He’s opening the door. There’s eye contact, Viv!”

Vivian squinted again. “I don’t know. Could be a really good punchline.”

He started pacing. “I have to go over there. Right now. Before she does something she can’t undo. Like fall in love with him.”

Vivian nearly choked on her wine. “What?”

“I’m serious. She’s clearly emotionally compromised. I need to speak to her before it’s too late.”

“Nico,” she said sharply, “you are not going to storm her apartment like she’s fifteen and you caught her kissing a boy behind the go-kart trailer.”

“I’m just going to talk to her.”

“You’re going to yell at her.”

“I won’t!”

“You will,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ll yell, she’ll cry, Lewis will emerge from somewhere shirtless and smug, and I’ll have to spend the entire night repairing your sibling relationship and your blood pressure.”

He faltered.

Vivian stepped closer, her voice softer now. “She’s an adult. A brilliant, terrifying, completely capable adult. And if this is real—if something’s going on—don’t you want her to tell you because she wants to, not because you showed up with steam coming out of your ears?”

Nico deflated like a balloon. “I just… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She’s not the one blowing up the internet right now,” Vivian said gently. “You are.”

He stared at the floor. Then the couch. Then the photo again. His fingers twitched like he still wanted to go—but didn’t quite need to anymore.

Vivian reached out, took his phone, and calmly locked it.

“Nico.”

He looked up.

“Sit down,” she said, already turning toward the kitchen. “And if you even think about driving to her place, I will call Toto and tell him you’re having a full emotional crisis over a blurry dinner photo.”

He sat.

But not without muttering, “It wasn’t that blurry.”

***

📚🌍 user: f1filesanonymous [DEEP DIVE] Who Is Lara Rosberg, and Why Is She Basically F1’s Amal Clooney? …and why has she just casually been on the arm of Lewis Hamilton this whole time like it’s NBD???

Okay so you may have seen THOSE photos of Lewis Hamilton leaving a Monaco restaurant with a stunning blonde woman who is clearly trying not to be recognized and failing spectacularly because—surprise!—that “mystery woman” is Lara Rosberg, and she is not new here.

She’s just been quietly running laps around us all for years.

🧾 BASIC PROFILE:

Name: Lara Marie Rosberg Age: 35 Profession: International environmental lawyer, policy advisor, human weapon in heels Known for: — Suing actual oil giants — Getting called “a necessary force of disruption” by the UN Climate Chair — Being the only person alive who can make Nico Rosberg shut up with just a look

👩🏻‍⚖️✨ SO WHO IS SHE?

Nico Rosberg’s younger sister

Studied at Oxford, then took a research fellowship in The Hague

Wrote an article on international water rights that got published in a UN journal before she was 25.

Interned with the UN Environmental Programme 

co-founded Rosberg & Bauman, a high-profile legal firm specializing in climate litigation and international law

Has been quietly advising multiple EU climate initiatives. Probably helped write half the green policies we tweet about and never read.

She’s essentially Amal Clooney for motorsport and climate reform, but with slightly messier buns and a terrifyingly dry wit.

Media Moments You Probably Missed:

2020: led a case that blocked a billion-euro fossil fuel infrastructure project in North Africa.

Gave a TED Talk in 2021 titled “Legal Leverage: Holding Polluters Accountable” that made half the oil industry visibly sweat

2022: Appears at FIA’s sustainability roundtable looking elegant and terrifyingly competent in a black suit. Spoke once. Killed the room.

2023: Profiled in Die Zeit for her work helping establish carbon accountability standards in multi-national litigation. Interview included the quote: “Motorsport is a spectacle. My work is a responsibility.” Everyone on Lawyer Tumblr melted.

🎓 THAT OXFORD MOMENT THOUGH:

The last public sibling appearance was in 2024 when she joined Nico at a Rosberg Ventures panel at Oxford.

Here’s what happened:

Nico gave a 12-minute talk about green tech.

Lara stood politely next to him in a grey silk blouse and minimal makeup.

The Q&A began.

It spiraled.

By the third question, law students were exclusively addressing Lara. Topics included:

The legality of carbon offset schemes

Her thoughts on climate reparations

Whether she preferred the European or Canadian legal frameworks for prosecuting ecocide

If she would consider mentoring

And—direct quote—“How does one become you without selling their soul to McKinsey first?”

Nico, to his credit, took it well. Kind of.

📸 Now About the Photos…

This week, Lara and Lewis were spotted leaving a private dinner in Monte Carlo.

No visible PDA. No statements.

But the vibes were LOUD.

Her laughing, him opening the car door, same vehicle—this is not “just friends and quinoa.”

⚖️ Important to Note:

Lara has always been incredibly private. She avoids PR events unless it’s climate-related, and she has zero public relationship history—despite being, and I quote, “absurdly beautiful in a terrifying EU commissioner sort of way.”

This is likely why the fandom is spiraling and the gossip accounts are eating their microphones.

📝 Conclusion:

Lara Rosberg is what happens when you cross elite academia with Monaco lineage, give her a law degree, an international caseload, and one (1) deeply chaotic brother.

She’s elegant, brilliant, unbothered by fame, and apparently—if the latest photos are to be believed—Lewis Hamilton’s dinner date.

And honestly? As a couple? It’s giving world peace. It’s giving intellectual dominance. It’s giving “He calls her Counselor and means it.”

***

Text Messages — Vivian Rosberg → Lara Rosberg

Vivian Hey. You might want to turn your phone off for the night. Your brother is currently pacing the living room like he’s prepping for a title decider.

Vivian Did you have dinner with Lewis?

Vivian I told him you’re probably just friends. He’s choosing to believe that. Please don’t prove me a liar before sunrise.

Vivian Text me when you’re awake. And maybe warn Lewis if he’s in Monaco. Nico’s dangerously close to printing flyers.

***

Text Messages —  Nico Rosberg → Lara Rosberg

Nico Lara. LARA. Are you kidding me??

Nico Tell me this is a joke. Tell me that’s not you in those pictures. Tell me you have a TWIN I don’t know about.

Nico I SWEAR TO GOD. LEWIS???

Nico Answer your phone. ANSWER. YOUR. PHONE.

 Nico: I SAW THE POST. Don’t even TRY to act like that wasn’t you.

 Nico:  Are you DATING him??? Are you out of your ACTUAL MIND???

 Nico: Call me. NOW.

 Nico: I’m not kidding. This is not a “haha oops paparazzi” moment. This is LEWIS. LEWIS HAMILTON, LARA.

 Nico: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW????

 Nico: I FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS THROUGH A GOSSIP ACCOUNT. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND????

 Nico: Was that a DATE??? Are you DATING HIM?? Why is he TOUCHING YOU????

Nico: Why is he LAUGHING WITH YOU?? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING WITH HIM???

 Nico: I feel ill.

NICO: Are you INSANE? Have you lost your mind? Did he hypnotize you? Blink twice if you’re being held against your will.

NICO: Why didn’t you tell me? Wait—how long has this been going on? NO. I don’t want to know. YES I DO. TELL ME.

NICO: Are you DATING him or was this just dinner? Be honest. Because you’re smiling in that photo like you’re in love.

NICO: I cannot believe this. My archrival. My nemesis. The man who once parked half an inch too close to me in the garage in 2015.

 Nico: You know what this is? This is betrayal. Family betrayal.

***

Voicemail Transcriptions:

[Voice Note 1] “Okay. Look. I’m going to be calm. I’m going to be respectful. I’m just asking. Are you—ARE YOU SERIOUSLY DATING LEWIS HAMILTON?! Because I—sorry, no. I’m not calm.”

[Voice Note 2] “What happened to standards? What happened to self-preservation?! I taught you how to ride a bike! I protected you from jellyfish! And this is how you repay me?!”

[Voice Note 3] “I saw the way he looked at you in that photo, okay? I’ve been looked at by Lewis Hamilton. That’s not just dinner. That’s strategic affection!”

[Voice Note 4] “I just—Lara. You had dinner with Lewis Hamilton. You had dinner with Lewis Hamilton and you didn’t tell me and now the internet knows and I’M COMMENTING UNDER A GOSSIP ACCOUNT LIKE A TEENAGER—”

[Voice Note 5] “This is fine. I’m fine. Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe you were… helping him understand nutrition. I don’t know what you do anymore.”

[Voice Note 6] “You are grounded, by the way. I don’t care that you’re an adult. Grounded.”

[Voice Note 7]

 “Vivian is telling me to calm down but she doesn’t understand what this means. This is like…this is like if I just casually showed up married to Sebastian Vettel and didn’t warn anyone. Which I wouldn’t do. Because I HAVE MANNERS.”

[Voice Note 8]

 “Okay, I just think it’s funny—no, you know what? It’s not funny. It’s absolutely deranged. Of all the people in the entire paddock, you go out with Lewis bloody Hamilton. The man who once called me ‘calculating’ like it was an insult. LARA. I—I'm not even mad, I’m just—NO, I am mad. Call me back.”

[Voice Note 9]

 “I’m coming over. No, Vivian says I can’t. But I will. I will climb your balcony if I have to. I know your security code. Actually, you changed it, didn’t you? Was that because of him?!”

**

LARA’S PHONE – 07:12 AM

Missed Calls (16) – Nico Rosberg New Voice Messages (9) Unread Texts (19)

***

Sunlight sliced in through the edge of the blackout curtains, soft and golden as it spilled lazily across the rumpled white sheets. The apartment was quiet. Peaceful. That rare kind of stillness that made it easy to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Lara stirred beneath the covers, warm and content, tangled in one of Lewis’s oversized T-shirts. For a few precious seconds, everything was calm. Safe.

Then her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She groaned, blindly reaching for it, eyes barely open as she fumbled with the screen.

Her breath caught.

Missed Calls (16) – Nico Rosberg New Voice Messages (9) Unread Texts (19) 1 from Vivian Instagram: You’ve been tagged in 56 new photos

She blinked. Then blinked again.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

Beside her, Lewis hummed sleepily, still curled under the covers. “What?”

Lara didn’t answer right away. She just held her phone up, screen angled toward him.

“He knows.”

Lewis rubbed at his eyes and took the phone from her hand. His eyebrows rose as he started scrolling.

“My archrival. My nemesis. The man who once parked half an inch too close to me in the garage in 2015,” he muttered. “Wow. I forgot how theatrical he gets.”

“I didn’t.” Lara collapsed back onto the pillows with a groan. “I was really hoping we had one more week of peace.”

Lewis swiped through the notifications and found it—the photo. A grainy shot of them outside the restaurant. Her head tilted back in laughter. Lewis mid-smile, hand on the car door. The moment looked effortless. Intimate.

He turned the phone toward her. “We look good.”

She shot him a glare. “Lewis.”

He smirked, still half-asleep. “Sorry.”

“We were careful,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “We used the back entrance. We didn’t even kiss. I didn’t even touch you.”

“You smiled at me like I invented light.”

She threw a pillow at him. “You smiled first.”

He caught it easily and shrugged. “You were the one who wanted to keep it a secret.”

Lara turned to look at him, eyes sharp. “Did you want to come to Rosberg family dinners?”

Lewis winced.

“Yeah,” she snapped, “I didn’t think so.”

She exhaled hard and dropped back onto the mattress. “God. He’s going to go full 2016. Vivian’s probably hiding his passport as we speak.”

Lewis hesitated before speaking again. “We are going to have to tell him eventually.”

“Define eventually,” she groaned into the pillow.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her, palm brushing gently along her side, resting just over the soft swell of her stomach. Barely showing. But not for long.

“You’re going to start showing any day now, Lara,” he said softly. “And I’m not letting you hide.”

She closed her eyes. Her voice came quieter. “I’m not trying to hide.”

“I know.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I just want to be allowed to love you out loud.”

Her throat tightened. She reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, grounding herself in him.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Just… maybe give him a decaf tea and ten hours of sleep before we break the news?”

Lewis grinned. “So… no baby announcement via Ferrari Instagram post?”

“Don’t you dare.”

***

Lara startled, barefoot in the kitchen, a mug of tea halfway to her mouth. Her phone, resting on the counter, lit up again—more messages from Nico, one from Vivian, and at least six from various overinvested cousins.

She froze.

Then she heard it.

Banging.

“LARA! Open the door. I know you’re home!”

Her eyes went wide.

“Oh no.”

From behind her, Lewis appeared in the hallway, shirtless, towel slung around his neck. He looked unbothered. Warm. Glowing.

She hated him just a little for it.

“That sounds like Nico,” he said mildly.

“I know.”

“He’s here?”

“I know,” she hissed, voice rising with every syllable.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “So… are we telling him?”

Lara spun to face him, panicked. “No.”

The banging continued. Louder.

“LARA. I’M NOT KIDDING. I SWEAR, IF HE’S IN THERE—”

She spun on her heel, threw open the hallway closet.

Lewis stared at her. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not. Closet. Now.”

“Lara, come on.”

“Do you want to be murdered by a man who still hasn’t emotionally processed Abu Dhabi 2016?”

He blinked.

“Closet, Lewis!”

He looked at her like he might argue—just for a second. Then he saw the full extent of her panic and swore under his breath before stepping toward the closet.

“I am a seven-time world champion,” he muttered, ducking inside, “and I’m hiding in your linen closet.”

Lara grabbed the door handle.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he added darkly.

She shut the door in his face with a soft click. Then inhaled deeply, set her mug down with trembling hands, and marched toward the front door like a woman preparing for war.

Because Nico? Nico was banging on the door like he absolutely intended to blow her life apart.

She barely got the handle turned before the door flew open, Nico barreling inside like a man on fire.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening online?!” he demanded. “You’re trending. I’m trending! Vivian had to turn off comments on our wedding anniversary post because people think Lewis is now my brother-in-law! Is he here?!”

“Nico—” she tried, but he was already pacing.

“—and to make it worse, you lied to me! You said you were with friends! You said girls night!”

“It was just a friendly dinner,” she said, wildly flustered, stepping in front of him like she could physically block the chaos.

“With Lewis Hamilton?” Nico let out a laugh that sounded half-deranged. “Do you remember 2016? Do you remember what I went through? The psychological warfare?”

Lara pressed her palms together. “Yes! We’ve known each other for years. We talk sometimes. It’s not a big deal. We’re just friends.”

From down the hallway, behind the closed linen closet door— A faint, unmistakable sneeze.

She froze. Nico blinked.

“…Was that—?”

“The pipes,” she said too quickly. “It’s an old building.”

Nico frowned. “You live in a penthouse.”

She didn’t blink. “You are being insane, Nico. We’re not dating. Okay? We are not romantically involved.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then Nico sighed, shoulders deflating slightly.

“…Okay,” he said, though his tone was still edged with suspicion. “Okay. I just—Viv said maybe it was just dinner and I wanted to believe her but the comments were insane and I was spiraling and—”

“I know,” Lara said, voice softening. “It’s okay.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, visibly exhausted. “You’d tell me if something was going on, right?”

Her stomach twisted.

She nodded slowly, resting one hand—casually, carefully—over her still-flat abdomen. Then she smiled and lied, smooth as glass.

“Of course I would.”

Nico exhaled, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry for freaking out. I just—he’s Lewis. You know how I feel about Lewis.”

Lara managed a tense smile. “You’ve mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“I just needed to see for myself that you’re not, you know… caught in some post-midnight Hamilton mind control scheme.”

“I’m good, Nico,” she said gently. “Promise.”

He nodded again, slower this time, reluctant but settling. “Okay. I’ll go. Vivian says if I show up without flowers and an apology she’s changing all the Wi-Fi passwords.”

Lara huffed out a quiet laugh, just barely.

Nico pulled her into a quick hug, kissed her forehead like he’d done since they were kids, and walked out with one last suspicious glance toward the hallway.

She waited until the door clicked shut and the lock turned.

Silence.

Then she pressed her back against the wall and exhaled so hard it nearly rattled the windows.

From the hallway closet came a muffled voice.

“Can I come out now, or do I need to wait for the emotional fallout round two?”

Lara didn’t answer. She just collapsed onto the couch and let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled sob, muffled by the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

A few seconds later, Lewis stepped cautiously into the room. Barefoot, rumpled, he looked like a man recently freed from captivity—and mildly offended by the experience.

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you okay?”

Lara lifted her head slowly, resting her cheek against the arm of the couch. Her voice was flat. “Nico showed up unannounced. You had to hide in a closet. I lied to my brother’s face. I’m pregnant. And the father of my unborn child just sneezed in a linen shelf like it was a hostage bunker.”

Lewis raised his hands. “Technically, it was a very well-organized linen shelf.”

She dropped her head back down and flopped dramatically onto her side, arm over her face. “I can’t do this.”

Lewis crossed the room and knelt beside her, hands braced on the edge of the couch. “You are doing this,” he said gently. “You’re just… doing it with flair.”

“I’m going to be showing in, like, two weeks,” she muttered into the pillow. “There is not a single baggy sweatshirt on earth that’s going to save me from Rosberg family chaos when I turn up glowing and hormonal.”

He laughed softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered.

“Then we stop hiding,” he said. “He’ll survive. Eventually.”

Lara groaned again, dragging the pillow over her face. “Will I survive?”

“Barely,” Lewis said, deadpan. “But I’ll keep you stocked in chocolate and foot rubs.”

“Even when I’m mood-swinging like a possessed Victorian ghost?”

He smiled. “Especially then.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with something dangerously close to a smile.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the chaos of the morning finally settling into something quieter. Her breathing slowed. His hand rested gently on her calf.

Then she murmured, almost to herself, “We’re going to have to tell him soon.”

Lewis nodded. “You ready?”

She turned her head and looked at him with the kind of expression only a woman who had recently shoved the most decorated driver in F1 history into a closet could manage.

“I just shoved you in a closet,” she said. “Take a guess.”

***

The office was quiet. Sleek. Clinical.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, sunlight dappling across the glass table by the door. But Lara hadn’t looked at it once.

She sat rigid at her desk, spine straight despite the fatigue pulling at her limbs. Her hair was twisted into a tight bun, her dark blazer buttoned neatly over a flowing cream blouse that had started to feel uncomfortably snug across her midsection. A stack of contracts lay open in front of her—thick paper, heavy with redlining—but she’d read the same paragraph four times without taking in a single word.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her water.

Still nothing in her stomach. No appetite. The nausea had been worse this morning, coiling low in her gut and rising bitter in her throat. And on top of that, she was still reeling from the full-body stress event known as The Nico Incident—Lewis in the closet, her brother losing his mind in the hallway, and the quiet guilt that had settled in after like a slow bleed.

She blinked hard. Rubbed at her temple.

The words on the contract blurred again.

“Paul,” she called, her voice thin and strained.

She hadn’t even finished saying his name before her office door opened.

Paul stepped inside with the precision of a man who had absolutely expected this. Sharp suit, smart glasses, and the kind of unflinching judgment only earned after five years of managing Lara Rosberg’s chaos with military efficiency.

“I knew you skipped breakfast,” he said, striding across the room. He set a protein bar and a bottle of green pressed juice on her desk with a decisive thud. “Again. This baby’s going to come out demanding better scheduling and proper prenatal vitamins.”

Lara managed a ghost of a smile. “You’re dramatic.”

Paul arched a brow at her. “I’m observant.”

She nodded faintly, reaching for the juice without drinking it. “Reschedule the ten a.m. with Duval. I’ll take the Thompson brief in here.”

“Already done,” he said, folding his arms. “And I brought ginger biscuits, a backup charger, and the good pen you like.”

Lara exhaled through her nose. Grateful. Exhausted.

Then the edges of her vision wavered.

She blinked, trying to clear it, but her head swam. Heat bloomed behind her eyes, and her stomach flipped dangerously. She swayed slightly in her chair.

Paul’s posture changed in an instant.

“Lara?”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, waving a hand she couldn’t quite steady.

She tried to stand.

The room tilted.

And the next thing she knew, her balance gave out and her knees buckled, sending her careening sideways into the edge of the desk.

“Lara!”

Paul was at her side before she could fall completely, catching her under the arms and lowering her gently to the carpet. Her skin felt clammy. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers—too fast, too light.

He pressed a hand to her cheek, already fumbling for his phone with the other.

“No, no, no—don’t you dare pass out on me,” he muttered, his voice somewhere between a plea and a scolding. “You brilliant, emotionally repressed nightmare. You’ve got a whole child cooking in there.”

***

Lewis had just stepped out of the shower when his phone rang.

He barely glanced at the screen—Paul—before snatching it off the counter, a flicker of unease already tightening in his chest.

Paul didn’t call unless something was wrong.

He pressed the phone to his ear, towel slung around his neck, water still dripping from his hair.

“Yeah?”

There was no greeting. No polite pause. Just Paul’s voice, clipped and urgent.

“It’s Lara.”

Lewis stilled.

Every nerve in his body lit up like a warning flare. “What about her?”

“She fainted,” Paul said. “Collapsed in her office.”

Lewis’s breath stopped mid-inhale. His free hand gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, knuckles whitening.

“Did she hit her head?” His voice came rough, rasping.

“No. I caught her. It was clean. But it was bad. She’s been pale all morning. I think she was hiding how awful she felt—skipped breakfast, looked like she was about to throw up before I even walked in.”

Lewis shut his eyes.

Of course she had.

Of course she’d been pushing through it like always—quietly, stubbornly, determined to pretend everything was fine because that’s what Lara did. Even now. Especially now.

Paul kept talking, his voice dropping slightly. “They took her to Monaco General. She’s stable, but still out cold. They’re moving her to room 208 once she’s upstairs.”

Lewis barely heard the rest.

All he could think about was her curled up beside him the night before, her hand resting absently over the soft curve of her stomach. Still hardly showing, but there. Real. Their baby.

It had been a surprise. For both of them.

A terrifying, beautiful surprise.

He remembered how stunned she’d looked when the test turned positive. How she’d said nothing for a long minute, then whispered, “This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

And how he’d taken her hand and told her, “Maybe not. But I think it’s the best thing that ever could.”

And now she was in a hospital bed, unconscious, and he hadn’t even been there.

“I’m on my way,” he said, already yanking open a drawer, throwing on jeans without bothering to dry off. “Tell them I’m coming.”

“Lewis—” Paul hesitated, then added, “She’s going to be okay. But I think she’d want you there when she wakes up.”

Lewis didn’t respond. He was already moving, already grabbing keys, wallet, hoodie—wet hair forgotten, socks mismatched.

“Thanks for calling,” he said, voice thick.

He ended the call and bolted out the door.

He didn’t care about traffic. About press. About what anyone saw.

The only thing that mattered was her.

***

The phone rang once.

Then twice.

Nico almost didn’t answer.

He was mid-rant—hands flying, pacing the kitchen like a man still trapped in a cooldown room—his voice bouncing off marble countertops and ignored entirely by his wife, who sat at the breakfast bar scrolling through her iPad and sipping tea like his stress was just white noise.

“You should’ve seen her,” he was saying, his voice rising with every word. “Sweating, stammering—wouldn’t even let me into the bedroom. If that’s not suspicious, I don’t know what is—”

The phone rang again.

He snatched it off the counter without checking the caller ID. “Rosberg.”

A beat. Then:

“Hey, it’s Paul. Lara’s assistant.”

Nico stopped moving.

He blinked. “Yeah?” he said, voice still sharp. “What’s going on? Did she send you? I’ve been trying to reach her all morning—she’s not picking up.”

There was a pause. Longer this time. Uneasy.

“She fainted at work.”

Everything inside Nico went still.

“What?” The word came out flat, disbelieving.

“She collapsed in her office about forty minutes ago. We called an ambulance. She’s at Monaco General. They’re monitoring her, but she hasn’t woken up yet.”

The blood drained from his face.

He sank into the nearest chair like the floor had been pulled out from under him.

Across the kitchen, Vivian looked up sharply.

“Is she—did she hit her head?” Nico asked, voice cracking at the end like it betrayed him.

“No. It was clean. I caught her. But it was bad enough they didn’t take chances. She’s been really pale all morning—kind of shaky. I think she’s been hiding how bad she’s feeling.”

Nico’s stomach twisted.

“She didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” Paul said softly. “She’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Nico dragged a hand through his hair, already rising from the chair. “What hospital?”

“Monaco General. Room 208 once they move her upstairs. And—” Paul hesitated, then added, “Look, I don’t know how she’s going to feel about you showing up right now. But I thought you should know.”

Nico nodded, even though Paul couldn’t see it. “Yeah,” he said, voice faint. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He hung up.

The kitchen was silent now.

Vivian was watching him from across the island, her expression unreadable.

“Nico?” she asked gently.

He didn’t look up. His grip tightened around the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Fragile in a way she hadn’t heard in years.

“She fainted,” he said. “And I was too busy losing my mind over one dinner photo to notice she wasn’t okay.”

Vivian set her tea down and crossed the kitchen.

She didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t say anything at all.

She just handed him his car keys.

Nico stared at them for a long second before taking them from her hand.And then he left.

***

The room was too quiet.

Machines hummed in the background, soft and steady—heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, the occasional beep of a nurse’s console in the hallway. Lewis sat beside Lara’s bed, one hand curled gently around hers, his thumb brushing absent circles across her knuckles.

She hadn’t stirred.

Lara was still unconscious, her breathing slow and steady, her hand resting in his. Monitors beeped steadily. The room smelled like antiseptic and synthetic linen. His fingers never stopped tracing gentle circles across her knuckles, as if the contact alone could anchor her here—safe, real, still with him.

He’d spoken to the doctor. Twice. Everything pointed to a textbook fainting spell—dehydration, exhaustion, stress. But knowing that didn’t stop the gnawing panic sitting in his chest like a stone.

She looked small in the hospital bed. Fragile in a way she never was in the courtroom or at home. And he hated it.

Her skin was pale, her hair pulled back messily, oxygen clipped to her nose despite the doctor’s reassurance that everything was stable. That she’d fainted from stress, dehydration, exhaustion—but that the baby was fine.

The baby was fine.

Lewis had held onto that sentence like a lifeline the entire drive to the hospital.

She hadn’t even wanted him to come this morning. Said she had a brief to finish, a call to take. That she’d be home by lunch.

Now she was lying still and silent, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

The door creaked open.

He turned, expecting Paul.

Instead, it was Nico.

He froze in the doorway, eyes immediately landing on Lara in the bed. And then—

He saw Lewis.

The silence that followed was sharp, immediate, and dangerous.

Nico stepped inside, slowly. His face was pale, drawn tight with something between panic and disbelief.

“What,” he said, voice low and brittle, “are you doing here?”

Lewis stood, careful not to release Lara’s hand too abruptly.

“I’m with her,” he said simply.

Nico laughed—short, incredulous. “No. No, no. Don’t tell me—don’t tell me—you knew she was here. You’ve been here this whole time?”

Lewis met his gaze. “Since the moment I got the call.”

“You’ve got nerve,” Nico snapped, stepping forward. “You hide whatever this thing is with her—sneak around like it’s a game—and then show up here like you belong?”

“I didn’t sneak anywhere,” Lewis said, his voice low and controlled. “She wanted space. She didn’t want to deal with you spiraling. So we kept it quiet.”

“Oh, and that makes it okay?” Nico’s voice was rising now. “You don’t think I had a right to know my sister was—was—”

“She didn’t want to tell you,” he said quietly.

Nico crossed the room in three quick strides. “Tell me what, exactly? That my sister’s been sneaking around with you behind my back? That she lied about it for God knows how long?” He gestured wildly. “What is this? Some sort of sick joke? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Lewis said evenly.

“You think that makes this better?!”

Lara stirred slightly in the bed. Lewis instinctively glanced down, checking her vitals. Still steady. Still sleeping.

Nico noticed. His voice dropped, but it didn’t lose any venom. “How long?”

Lewis met his eyes. “Over a year.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And she’s not twelve anymore, Nico,” Lewis said sharply. “You don’t get to control her.”

Nico’s fists curled at his sides. “I have every right to be protective.”

“You weren’t protective,” Lewis shot back. “ You were too busy having a public meltdown on Instagram to ask if she was okay.”

Nico flinched. Just for a second.

Lewis didn’t stop. He’d held back for too long.

“She’s been working fourteen-hour days. Skipping meals. Stressed out of her mind trying to hide us—not for her sake, but yours. Because she didn’t want you to react exactly like this.”

Nico’s mouth opened. Closed.

Then—defensively, stupidly— “She didn’t have to hide anything.”

“Didn’t she?” Lewis snapped. “You showed up at her place unannounced, Nico. Do you even know how close she was to telling you that night? And then she saw the look on your face and backed down.”

Silence crackled between them.

Then Nico’s voice, low and disbelieving: “You think I’m the bad guy in this?”

“No,” Lewis said. “I think you’re the brother. But you forgot how to be one.”

Nico stepped forward again, eyes blazing. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think just because she—what, let you in her bed—you’re suddenly part of this family?”

Lewis’ mouth twisted. His pulse thundered in his ears.

He looked at Lara. Pale. Still asleep. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

Then he turned back to Nico.

Voice calm. Measured.

Devastating.

“I’m not just in her bed,” Lewis said. “I’m the father of her child.”

Nico froze.

Time stopped.

The words settled in the air like dust after a demolition.

“What?” he whispered.

Lewis didn’t repeat it.

Nico blinked at him like he couldn’t comprehend the sentence. Then looked at Lara. Then at Lewis again. His face had gone white.

“You’re lying.”

Lewis didn’t say anything.

“You’re lying.”

He shook his head.

Nico stumbled back half a step like he’d been physically struck. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

The monitor beeped steadily beside them.

Lara didn’t wake.

And Lewis stood completely still, hand protectively on the edge of her bed, watching Nico come apart one slow breath at a time.

***

Nico didn’t remember leaving the room.

One second he was staring at Lewis Hamilton like the man had personally torn his world in half.

The next, he was out in the corridor, back against the cold wall, the sterile white spinning around him like a centrifuge. His breath was too fast. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

She was pregnant.

Lara.

His Lara. His little sister who used to sit cross-legged next to his karting helmet. Who cried when he left for testing in Bahrain. Who called him when she won her first case and who still sent him ridiculous memes when he was stressed out about podcast sponsorships.

She was pregnant. And he hadn’t known.

And the father— Lewis. Lewis Fucking Hamilton.

Nico pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes like that would make the truth disappear. Like he could rub the image out of existence.

He’d been screaming about dinner photos. About hugging. About lies. And all this time—she was growing a life. Their family was growing. And he’d been too busy spiraling into his own ego to notice.

His stomach twisted.

I didn’t know.

He’d said he was protective. That he was looking out for her. But she hadn’t come to him. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t trusted him. Because on some level, she knew.

She didn’t think I’d be safe with the truth.

And maybe she was right.

Nico stumbled down the hall, past a nurse who looked at him with vague concern, but didn’t stop him. He pushed out through a set of glass doors and into the staff garden—small, shaded, and quiet.

Only then did he sit down hard on a bench, burying his face in his hands.

It was all too much. Too loud in his head. Too heavy in his chest.

His sister was going to be a mother. And he had no idea what to do with that.

Not because he didn’t love her. But because he’d spent so long trying to control her, to protect her from the world, that he hadn’t noticed she didn’t need protecting anymore.

She needed support. Softness. Belief.

And he’d failed. Spectacularly.

A choked sound escaped his throat. Something between a laugh and a sob.

God, she was going to kill him when she woke up.

And maybe she should.

***

The first thing Lara felt was the pillow under her head. Soft. Cool. Tucked just the way she liked it.

The second was the dull ache in her temple. And her mouth—dry, cottony. A strange taste lingered on her tongue, like antiseptic air and faint regret.

She blinked slowly. The room came into focus.

White ceiling. Faint beeping. Clean sheets.

Hospital.

Then—

A warm hand, curled gently around hers.

She turned her head and found Lewis sitting beside her bed. Still in the hoodie from that morning. His jaw was tight. His thumb was stroking her knuckles in slow, silent circles, but his eyes were fixed on the wall like he was holding back a flood.

“Hey,” she croaked, voice rough.

His head snapped around.

“Lara.” His voice cracked like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “You’re awake.”

“Unfortunately.” She tried for a smile. “Did I pass out in court or…?”

He huffed a breath—half a laugh, half relief—and shook his head. “Your office.”

“Ugh.” She sank further into the pillow. “Paul’s going to make this dramatic, isn’t he?”

Lewis didn’t answer right away.

Her brows knit.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.” He hesitated. “Doctor said it was stress. Dehydration.”

She could feel it now. The heaviness. The hollow ache in her ribs. The tremble in her limbs like her body had burned through every reserve and then kept going anyway.

“I should’ve stayed home,” she whispered.

“I tried to make you,” Lewis said, voice quiet.

She turned her head toward him. His face hadn’t softened. If anything, the worry had carved itself deeper.

She swallowed. “Is the baby—?”

“They checked,” he said quickly, firmly. “Everything’s okay. Strong heartbeat. No signs of distress.”

Lara’s eyes filled with tears so fast it caught her off guard.

“Oh thank God,” she breathed. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t feel—”

“I know,” Lewis murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. “But they’re okay. You both are.”

She nodded, just once, eyes closing for a moment as the fear receded—still lingering at the edges, but no longer swallowing her whole.

A long pause passed between them.

“…What happened?”

He paused. Looked down at her hand in his. Squeezed it gently.

Then: “Nico came.”

Her stomach dropped.

She closed her eyes. “No.”

“He found out.”

“No.”

“He saw me here,” Lewis added softly. “And—he figured it out.”

Lara groaned and dragged a hand over her face. “How bad was it?”

“We fought.”

“Obviously.”

“And then I told him.”

She froze.

Her eyes opened. Slowly. Carefully.

“Told him what?”

Lewis met her gaze. Calm. Honest. Steady.

“That I’m not just in your life. I’m the father of your child.”

Silence.

Lara didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

“…You told him.”

“Yes.”

“You told Nico Rosberg—in a hospital—while I was unconscious—that I’m pregnant with your baby?”

“Yes,” Lewis said, with the serene boldness of a man who had fully accepted death as a possibility. “He took it about as well as you’d expect.”

Lara closed her eyes again and muttered something in German that absolutely didn’t belong in a hospital.

***

The room had settled into something almost peaceful.

Lewis hadn’t let go of her hand once. The monitors beeped softly in the background, steady and unbothered, and Lara was beginning to believe she might finally breathe again.

Then the knock came.

Soft. Hesitant. Completely unlike Nico.

Lara’s stomach twisted.

Lewis glanced toward the door but didn’t move.

The knock came again. A little firmer this time.

She swallowed and sat up slightly in the bed, tugging the hospital blanket higher around her waist. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Nico stepped inside.

He looked like someone had hit him with a very polite brick. Jaw tight, posture rigid, but his eyes flicked immediately to her. Then to the IV. Then, very briefly, to Lewis.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.

“Hey,” Nico echoed, a beat too late.

Silence stretched. The weight of everything that hadn’t been said hovered like a second heartbeat in the room.

Nico cleared his throat. “Paul called me.”

“I know,” she said.

He looked at her again. Really looked this time. The color in her face. The way her fingers curled around Lewis’. The too-big hoodie stretched over her belly.

He blinked. “You’re…?”

Lara nodded once. Quiet. “Yes.”

A long pause.

Nico ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath, pacing two steps into the room like he didn’t know what to do with himself now that he was here.

“I thought you were just friends,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

“I know.”

“You lied to me.”

She didn’t flinch. “I did.”

Nico looked away, jaw tightening. “You could’ve told me.”

“You were—” she stopped herself. Then tried again. “You’ve always made your opinion on Lewis very clear.”

He made a soft, bitter sound. “And you thought I’d what? Lose my mind? Storm into your apartment?”

Lara raised an eyebrow. “You did storm into my apartment.”

Fair.

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, but—this? This is you. And Lewis. And now—” His voice faltered again. “Now there’s a baby.”

“I know.”

“And I wasn’t even part of it.”

“You still can be,” she said gently.

Nico looked at her then. Really looked. And for a moment, beneath the shock and betrayal and bruised ego, she saw what was underneath:

Worry.

Fear.

Love.

“…Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.

She nodded, throat tightening. “Yeah. I will be.”

He turned to Lewis, reluctant but not hostile.

Lewis stood, quiet but firm. “She’s doing fine. The baby’s fine.”

Nico gave a sharp nod. “Good.”

Another beat.

“I’m still mad,” he added.

Lara gave a soft snort. “We figured.”

“But I’m not leaving,” he said. Then, to her, more quietly: “You’re my sister.”

Something cracked open in her chest.

“Thanks for not yelling,” she said.

“I’ve already done enough of that,” he muttered.

Lewis, wisely, stepped aside. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

He left without fanfare, the door clicking quietly behind him.

Nico sat down in the chair Lewis had just vacated.

He cleared his throat. “So. You and Lewis.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Still a problem?”

“No,” he muttered. “Yes. I mean—yes, but not because he’s him. It’s just. You didn’t tell me. And it’s you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But you—Nico, you comment-bombed an F1 gossip post like a lunatic.”

His ears went pink. “They called you a mysterious blonde. I panicked.”

“You think?”

They both exhaled, some of the weight lifting between them.

“I just…” He ran a hand over his jaw, voice quieter now. “I didn’t expect to find out like that. In a hospital. With him sitting there.”

Lara nodded. “I didn’t want it to happen this way either.”

“But you’re happy?” he asked, cutting to the core.

She hesitated for just a second—then nodded. “Yes.”

“With him?”

“Yes.”

“With the baby?”

Her breath caught. Then settled.

“Yes,” she said again. “Even though it scares the hell out of me.”

Nico’s expression softened.

He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. “You’re going to be an actual parent. I’m going to be the insane uncle.”

“You already are.”

He glared.

She smiled.

After a long silence, he asked, “Does Mom know?”

“No,” Lara said. “You’re the first.”

He blinked. “You told me before Mom?”

She smirked faintly. “She hasn’t stormed into my flat waving a copy of BILD, so I’m guessing not yet.”

“You’re doomed,” Nico said.

“Absolutely.”

He paused. Then added, voice a little more sheepish, “You know I’m not actually mad at the baby, right?”

She turned her head toward him.

“I know.”

“I’m just… an idiot.”

“That too.”

A beat.

Then Nico reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a banana he must’ve swiped from the hospital reception area.

He held it out. “Peace offering?”

Lara rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m a dad. We have snacks for every crisis.”

She took the banana.

He hesitated again, then leaned over and pulled her into a one-armed hug, careful of the IV line.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I know,” she whispered back.

He pulled away. “Lewis still hiding in the hallway?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll go growl at him in the parking lot. Just to make him sweat.”

Lara snorted. “Be nice.”

“No promises.”

But when he stood, she could see it—the tension easing from his shoulders. The stubborn, protective big brother still simmering under the surface, but no longer ready to start World War III.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And for the first time all day, Lara let herself breathe.

***

The corridor outside Lara’s room was quiet now.

Lewis stood near the vending machine, one hand braced against the wall, the other cradling a black coffee that had long since gone cold. He hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t moved much since stepping out of the room. Just needed space to breathe. To think. To not say the wrong thing if Nico came out swinging again.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The door opened behind him.

Footsteps.

Then: “Hamilton.”

Lewis turned slowly.

Nico stood there, hands in the pockets of his jacket, posture deceptively casual—but the look in his eyes? That same Rosberg intensity Lewis remembered from wheel-to-wheel fights, from press conferences that felt like landmines.

“Nico.”

A pause stretched between them.

Then Nico sighed, stepped forward, and jabbed a finger toward Lewis’s chest—not quite touching, but close enough to make a point.

“If you ever hurt her,” he said flatly, “I will end you.”

Lewis didn’t flinch. “Noted.”

“Like, properly. With lawyers and pettiness and emotional warfare.”

Lewis huffed out a short breath. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“You don’t get it,” Nico bit out. “She’s not like us. She doesn’t do games. She doesn’t do drama.”

“I know.”

“She actually feels things. Deeply. Stupidly. It’s the worst.”

Lewis’s voice softened. “I know.”

Nico’s jaw clenched. “Then act like it. Protect her. Not just with your name or your money or your press team—really protect her.”

Lewis’s gaze didn’t waver. “I do.”

A tense pause followed. Long. Weighty.

Finally, Nico exhaled and looked away. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Of all the people in the world.”

Lewis almost smiled. “I know. You’re devastated.”

“I am! I’ve had to adjust my entire personality over this.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

Nico leveled him with a withering look. “I still don’t like you.”

Lewis nodded. “That makes two of us.”

“But,” Nico added grudgingly, “I don’t hate you anymore.”

Lewis raised a brow. “Is that your version of peace?”

Nico tilted his head. “Do you remember Spain 2016?”

Lewis blinked. “You brake-tested me into a sandpit.”

“You divebombed me on the inside.”

“You closed the door.”

“You didn’t lift.”

“You didn’t leave space!”

They stared at each other for a long beat. Then:

“Yeah,” Lewis said finally. “I remember.”

Nico sighed. “I think we were both assholes.”

Lewis shrugged. “We were thirty and impossible to manage.”

“Still are,” Nico muttered.

A reluctant silence.

Then Lewis added, quieter now, “She grounds me. Your sister. She makes everything quieter. Makes me better.”

Nico’s expression shifted—still tense, but something behind his eyes softened.

“You’re lucky she sees that,” he said.

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then Nico stuck his hand out. Awkward. Begrudging. Sincere.

“Truce?”

Lewis looked at it.

Then shook it, firm and steady.

“Truce.”

He turned to go, then paused at the end of the corridor.

“Oh—and if it’s a boy? I vote Nico Jr.”

Lewis made a face. “Absolutely not.”

Nico smirked. “Just putting it out there.”

And with that, he disappeared around the corner—still a menace, still dramatic, but no longer an enemy.

Lewis exhaled.

Truce achieved.

For now.

***

Lara had faced depositions more civilized than this dinner.

She hovered in the hallway for a moment, just out of sight, listening to the tension crackle like static in the dining room. It was palpable even from here—clinking glasses, too-long silences, the occasional muttered curse from Nico. She took a breath, smoothed a hand over the front of her dress, and stepped into the lion’s den.

Two generations of Rosbergs. One dinner table. Zero warning.

Her mother was placing the last set of cutlery on the table with a serenity Lara knew for a fact was weaponized. Vivian stood nearby, clutching a wine glass with the expression of a woman mentally mapping all emergency exits. Keke was by the fireplace, watching the room like a man who’d once stared down Senna and lived to talk about it. Nico was already halfway into a bottle of something expensive and clearly losing the will to live.

And Lewis—bless him—stood just inside the door, holding a bottle of red like it might grant him diplomatic immunity. His shoulders were squared, posture polite, and face neutral in that calmly unbothered way that only made Nico twitch harder.

“Lewis,” Keke said at last, voice flat as a straightaway. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Not a threat.

Worse—an ancient disappointment dressed as civility.

“Thanks for having me,” Lewis replied, smooth as ever.

“We didn’t,” Nico muttered.

“Nico,” Sina warned without even looking at him.

Lara crossed the room and slipped her hand through Lewis’s arm, letting her fingers rest against his bicep. She felt him relax a fraction under her touch.

She hadn’t planned to do this tonight. Not like this. But the air was thick with expectation, and Nico had been circling like a shark for days. Better to let the blade drop now.

“Right,” she said brightly. “Let’s just get it over with, shall we?”

All heads turned. She lifted her chin and faced the room, shoulders squared like she was delivering a closing argument.

“Lewis and I are together,” she said calmly. “We’ve been together for almost two years.”

There was a sharp inhale from Keke. A visible flinch from Nico. Vivian froze with her wine halfway to her mouth.

“And,” Lara continued, tone even, “we’re having a baby.”

Silence. Thick. Sudden. Almost cinematic.

Sina made a soft “oh!” sound and immediately moved in to hug her, eyes shining. Vivian looked like someone had just dropped an engagement ring, a baptismal candle, and a Molotov cocktail into her lap. Keke blinked once, as if recalibrating reality.

Nico just downed the rest of his glass like it was holy water and he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry—what?” Keke said eventually, voice climbing in disbelief.

“You heard me,” Lara replied.

“We’ve been together for—” Lewis began, but Keke cut in.

“I heard you. I just thought you were joking.”

Lara glanced at Lewis, who gave her a small, reassuring nod.

“I don’t usually joke about lifelong commitments,” he said, deadpan.

Nico groaned and slumped forward into his hands. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this for days.”

Lara lifted an eyebrow. “You had seventeen years to wrap your head around the fact that I’m an adult.”

“You’re having his baby,” Nico said, like it physically pained him.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You brought Lewis Hamilton to family dinner and announced he knocked you up. What part of that isn’t dramatic?!”

Lara almost laughed. She would have, if her heart weren’t pounding in her throat.

The baby had been a surprise. A quiet, miraculous shock delivered in the bathroom one sleepy Sunday morning when she’d assumed the nausea was just bad eggs and too many long work weeks. She and Lewis had stared at that stick together for a long time, blinking. Neither of them had spoken at first.

She hadn’t planned it. Not now, not yet. She’d always wanted children—deep down, quietly, even if she never said it out loud. But she’d never had the right person, the right moment. Never felt safe enough to imagine it.

Until him.

Until now.

She turned her attention back to her father, who was still staring at Lewis like he might sprout horns.

“So,” he said finally. “Are you serious about this?”

Lewis met his gaze without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Because if you hurt her—”

“I won’t.”

“—I will personally fly to wherever you live and break both of your knees.”

“Understood,” Lewis replied, entirely unshaken.

Vivian choked on a laugh. Nico muttered something rude under his breath that Lara decided to ignore.

She felt Lewis’s fingers brush hers under the table, and she reached for his hand. He laced their fingers together and didn’t let go.

“I love her,” he said softly but clearly. “I love our child. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her mother clapped her hands together, smiling like that settled the entire matter. “Well. Dessert, then?”

Lara exhaled—quiet, relieved—and leaned ever so slightly into Lewis’s side.

They might be chaos incarnate. But for the first time, it felt like the kind she could build a life around.

***

📸 Instagram Post — @/lararosberg

Comments: 

@/rosbergx14: EXCUSE ME

@/f1updatesdaily: BABY????? ROSBERG???? HAMILTON????

@/gridtea: THE WHAT NOW??????

@/f1wagsunofficial: WE WERE NOT EVEN IN THE SOFT LAUNCH ERA HOW DID WE GET TO PREGNANT

@/champagnetrauma: LEWIS HAMILTON. IS GOING TO BE A DAD. LARA ROSBERG. IS HAVING HIS BABY. I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

@/f1memegirl: I blinked and missed an entire relationship arc how is this already a sequel

@/dramat1que: you’re telling me nico rosberg’s little sister and lewis hamilton were not only SECRETLY TOGETHER but also MANAGED TO HIDE A WHOLE BABY???

@/gofasterbaby: this child is going to emerge with a law degree and  a world championship

@/sirlewisfanclub: if this baby doesn’t win the Monaco karting championship by age 3 I will be shocked

@/teamvivi: Vivian Rosberg right now watching the entire internet implode like 👁️👄👁️

@/lando.jpg: wait WAIT am I allowed to be shocked or did I miss a group chat

@/tifositargaryen: they really said enemies to lovers to secret family reveal mid-season and expected us to survive

@/thef1files: somewhere out there, Nico Rosberg is screaming into a pillow and Lewis is already painting the nursery

@/the.mess.paddock: we need a DRIVE TO SURVIVE EPISODE IMMEDIATELY

@/wheresmygridtea I WAS NOT EMOTIONALLY PREPARED FOR THIS AT 8AM

@/carlossainzfan24 rosberg??? hamilton??? baby??? are we in a fanfiction AU???

@/nico_rosberg …I’m going to need a moment. ↳ @/vivian.rosberg: You’ve had a week of moments, Nico.

@/driveitlikelerclerc screaming. crying. shaking. throwing up. calling my therapist.

@/tumblruser194839 So you’re telling me… Lara Rosberg, actual Amal Clooney of F1, who once legally shredded a corrupt climate policy on a live panel, is having a BABY with Lewis “7x world champion, whisperer of dogs and emotions” Hamilton???? ↳ @/thiswasnotonthebingo: I KNOW RIGHT. I THOUGHT THIS WAS A FEVER DREAM.

@/girlsontrackhq: The way this baby is going to have the most elite genetics, style, and social conscience. Just take the Constructors’ Championship now.

@/tifosiburner: Lewis Hamilton becoming Nico Rosberg’s brother-in-law was NOT on my 2025 prediction card.

@/f1teaspill: THE WHAT. THE WHO. THE BABY???????

@/mercedesinsider: not to be dramatic but this has shattered the fabric of the grid.

@/hamilover44: what happened to soft launches?? soft launches with a HAND or a KEYCHAIN?? THIS IS A WARHEAD.

@/rosbergeditqueen: i cannot breathe. i thought they hated each other. what do you MEAN baby rosberg-hamilton.

@/mclarenmeerkat: if this child isn't born with a world championship and a law degree I will riot.

@/vivian.rosberg: Welcome to the family, little one. 💛✨ (Also yes I told Nico. Repeatedly. You're welcome.)

@/georgerussell63: This is more shocking than any on-track overtake in 2024. Congratulations, both of you! 🍼

@/charles_leclerc: Did anyone else know? Like… ANYONE??

@/formulaiconic: wait. WAIT. WAITTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

@/paddockcryptid: imagine beefing with a guy for ten years and then you find out he’s having a baby with your sister like what’s he gonna call the kid, “DRS zone”?

@/wagsupreme: this baby is going to be the most genetically blessed child in motorsport history.

@/engineeredchaos: Hamilton. Rosberg. Offspring. The F1 grid in 2045 is shaking.

@/gptrackerqueen: lewis really said “i’ll see your 2016 title and raise you a niece/nephew”

@/softlyhamilton: i have never in my LIFE been so blindsided by a pregnancy announcement and i follow the kardashians

@/gridteaofficial: [red siren emojis] 🚨WE HAVE A BABY ANNOUNCEMENT. I REPEAT. A BABY. ANNOUNCEMENT. 🚨 Somebody check on Nico.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1GossipGuru 🚨LEWIS HAMILTON IS GOING TO BE A DAD🚨 Repeat: SEVEN-TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON IS HAVING A BABY WITH LARA ROSBERG??? THE DRAMATIC IRONY. THE FANFIC-LEVEL CHAOS. I NEED TO LIE DOWN. 📸 [screenshot of their joint IG post with the ultrasound]

@/lifebylando lewis hamilton getting nico rosberg’s sister pregnant is the most powerful revenge arc in sports history

@/F1Fanatic42 i am once again asking: what timeline are we living in

@/AlonsoWasRight this is giving enemies to lovers. forbidden romance. secretly married in vegas vibes. WHERE IS NETFLIX.

@/RosbergRetired lewis, at christmas dinner, passing the potatoes: “btw i’m the father of your niece” nico: [rage quitting real life]

@/tifosipanic can you IMAGINE the family dinners. Keke staring in Finnish. Nico drinking wine like it’s water. Lewis holding the baby in a Ferrari onesie. this writes itself.

@/formulawhyyy ok but lewis naming his baby after nico i actually can’t breathe (note: they haven’t confirmed the name yet don’t do this to yourself)

@/veganandvictorious the same man who dodged dating rumors for ten years just casually soft-launched fatherhood with an ultrasound pic??? i’m not okay

@/DriveToSurviveAnon when they said Brocedes was the most dramatic pairing of all time i didn’t realize they meant intergenerationally

***

INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT – SKY SPORTS F1 COVERAGE | CANADIAN GP | SATURDAY PRE-RACE SHOW

Simon Lazenby: Welcome back to Montreal! We’re here on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, qualifying coming up shortly. I’m joined, as always, by Martin Brundle and 2016 World Champion, Nico Rosberg.

Martin Brundle: It’s already been a wild weekend, but Nico, I have to ask—because, well, the internet exploded— Congratulations… I suppose?

Nico Rosberg: (visibly bracing) …Thank you?

Simon: Your sister, Lara Rosberg, and—uh—Lewis Hamilton, expecting a baby. I think the entire paddock collectively dropped its coffee over that post. Did you know?

Nico: (tight smile) Eventually.

Martin: (grinning like a fox) You’ve always been protective of Lara. What’s it like knowing you’re going to be an uncle?

Nico: Well, it’s… it’s surreal. I mean, Lara’s my little sister. To me, she’s still the kid who used to hide in my karting trailer and demand snacks. And now she’s having a baby—with Lewis. (beat) I’ve had more relaxing weeks, let’s say that.

Simon: There’s some lovely poetry to it, though. Bridging the Brocedes rivalry into the next generation?

Nico: (dryly) Yes. Nothing says inner peace like finding out your former teammate is having a child with your sister.

Martin: You’re handling it quite well, considering.

Nico: I’ve gone through all six stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, wine, and acceptance.

Simon: That’s five.

Nico: Yes. I went through wine twice.

[Laughter from the studio team]

Simon: So—bottom line—you’re happy for them?

Nico: [Laughs in “I have so many feelings”] I mean, look—I’m thrilled for her. I love Lara more than anything. She’s strong, she’s brilliant, she’s going to be an incredible mother. As for Lewis— [long pause] We’ve…reached an understanding.

Martin (teasing): That sounds ominous.

Nico: Let’s just say I threatened him in a hospital corridor. 

Simon: …That might be the most Rosberg-Hamilton sentence I’ve ever heard.

Nico: I’m working on being chill. It’s a process.

Simon: Well, congrats again—Uncle Nico! Think you’ll give any advice to the new dad?

Nico (flat): He didn’t listen to me in 2016. I doubt he’s going to start now.

[Studio laughter]

Martin: Fair enough. But all jokes aside—it’s a beautiful thing. You’ll be great.

Nico (finally softening): Thanks. I really am happy for them. Just…no one tell the baby about Abu Dhabi 2016. Let them have peace.

Simon (laughing): We’ll keep that out of the bedtime stories.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1teaaccount:  🚨 NICO ROSBERG JUST SAID ON LIVE TV THAT HE THREATENED LEWIS HAMILTON IN A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR what do you mean this isn’t Drive to Survive already

@/brocedes_fan47:  “Let’s just say I threatened him in a hospital corridor” he says that like it’s a normal sentence??? this is PEAK divorced energy

@/rosberggirlies:  nico pretending he’s chill while drinking 3 glasses of wine and blinking at Lewis like he’s trying to vaporise him with eye contact 🫡 an inspiration to siblings everywhere

@/yelledaboutlewis:  “No one tell the baby about Abu Dhabi 2016” nico said ✨emotional growth✨ and ✨repressed trauma✨ in one breath

@/mercedes_f1_wives:  not Nico saying “As for Lewis—we’ve reached an understanding” like this is the Godfather and Lewis kissed his ring in a hospital

@/karinabergkamp:  nobody: nico: I’ve gone through denial, anger, bargaining, wine, and acceptance also nico: I went through wine twice. ICON.

@/rosberg_defense_union:  he’s trying so hard. he’s spiraling publicly. he’s being soft in-between threats. he’s our girl dad uncle now 🫶

@/lh44_prayercircle:  this child is going to be so powerful. born of a Rosberg and a Hamilton. can already out-strategise the FIA and win a kart race with a juicebox in one hand

@/f1nocontext:  📸 [Screencap of Nico saying “We’ve… reached an understanding”] caption: When your arch-nemesis becomes your brother-in-law

@/lararosbergedits:  me: I’m fine also me, after nico said “she’s strong, she’s brilliant, she’s going to be an incredible mother”: 😭😭😭

@/F1YukiNation:  nico rosberg casually dropping “i threatened lewis in a hospital corridor” like it’s not the most cinematic line in this sport since seb said “tough luck” to mark in malaysia

@/LaraRosbergUpdates:  Lara Rosberg got Nico Rosberg and Lewis Hamilton to behave. She deserves the Nobel Peace Prize and a nap.

@/SilverstoneShambles: you can hear the 2016 trauma in Nico’s voice when he says “we’ve reached an understanding.” like. that man had to meditate in a forest for three days before saying that on live TV.

@/isthatglitteronlando: “You didn’t listen to me in 2016 and I doubt you’ll start now” — rosberg continues his reign as the Pettiest Man Alive™

@/hammy4life: laras pregnancy has now singlehandedly:

revived brocedes

healed family wounds

traumatized nico

given sky sports record-breaking engagement icon behavior

@/landohastaste:  not nico basically saying “congrats, I guess” then softening like a soggy biscuit at the end. we love growth ❤️

@/thisisdefinitelynotvaltteri: “no one tell the baby about abu dhabi 2016” YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS UP. I’M CRYING.

@/lh44daily: The fact that Nico admitted he threatened Lewis and then moved on like it was weather small talk 😭😭😭

@/f1teaspill:THE WAY NICO SAID “I’VE HAD MORE RELAXING WEEKS” WITH THE DEAD EYES OF A MAN WHO JUST FOUND OUT LEWIS HAMILTON IS HIS PSEUDO BROTHER-IN-LAW 😭😭😭

***

📸 Instagram Post — @/lararosberg

Comments: 

@/nico_rosberg: Okay… she’s really cute. You’re still grounded though.

@/vivian.rosberg: Welcome to the world, baby girl 💕

@/charles_leclerc: Congratulations ❤️ 

@/gridteaofficial: BREAKING: humanity restored. This child owns us now.

@/rosbergverses: Rose Hamilton is literally a poetic name. This child is going to be UNSTOPPABLE.

@/f1babytracker: Someone update the charts. She’s officially here. Stats: ✨Iconic✨

@/scuderiaferrari: We cannot wait to meet her. The tiniest team member 💙

@/rosberghamiltontruthers: WAIT WAIT WAIT—ROSE. ROSE-BERG. SHE DID IT. SHE NAMED HER DAUGHTER AFTER HER FAMILY NAME AND I’M SOBBING.

@/formuladrama: baby name: elegant. subtext: chaotic genius. we are witnessing storytelling.

@/gridteagossip: She said “this is a Rosberg baby” with her whole chest and Lewis LET HER. That's called love.

@/hamros_fanficclub: Rose Hamilton already sounds like a Nobel Prize winner / undefeated junior karting champion / poetic soul. I’m obsessed.✨

@/cryingatthewheel: Lewis and Lara naming their baby ROSE is the kind of emotionally layered chaos that rewires your DNA.

@/gridteaofficial: BREAKING: Rose Hamilton born. Grid immediately enters emotional meltdown.

@/rosbergxhamilton_is_real: SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. He’s in a relationship with Nico’s little sister. They named the baby Rose. AND WE’RE ALL JUST BREATHING NORMALLY???

@/georgerussell63: Welcome to the world, Rose 🌹 You’ve already made history and you’re not even a week old.

@/f1fanfictioncentral: Don’t talk to me unless your baby name has an entire decade-long rivals-to-lovers emotional arc embedded in it.

@/mercedesamgf1: The newest member of the Silver Arrows family 💙 We’re already fighting over who gets to babysit.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, Bakugo jacking off, se*ual fantasies, male orgasm, ejaculation

Summary: you're Bakugo's roommate, and although you hardly ever interact, Katsuki secretly develops intense feelings for you. Unable to gather the courage to confess, he silently admires you from a distance — until the day he stumbles upon your OnlyFans account

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Living with Bakugo Katsuki was always an unpredictable ride. He was a walking firestorm - intense, brash, and always on the edge of exploding. But after a few months of sharing an apartment with him, you’d come to realize something: Bakugo wasn’t just a chaos incarnate. He was meticulous, sometimes even thoughtful, and despite his rough edges, he’d never once crossed any boundaries.

You’d gotten the room through your mutual friend, Kirishima, and Bakugo had agreed reluctantly. 

From the very beginning, he’d kept his distance - never really speaking unless necessary, and most of the time he stayed in his room, went on missions or trained late into the night. 

You could feel his eyes on you sometimes, though, watching silently, like a predator sizing up his prey. But whenever you looked, he was back to his usual aloof self.

What you didn’t know was that Bakugo was harboring a dangerous attraction to you. He’d never admit it, not to you, and definitely not to himself. You were out of his league. Too sweet, too gorgeous, and the very idea of being vulnerable enough to confess his feelings made him grit his teeth in frustration. He'd fantasized about you countless times though - his imagination running wild with ideas of what it would feel like to claim you. But he buried those desires deep, thinking you'd never look at him the way he wanted.

That was, until one night.

Bakugo had come home late from a mission, exhausted but restless. After a shower, he threw himself onto his bed and mindlessly scrolled through his phone, his thumb hovering over the OnlyFans app. He opened it to unwind, expecting to see the usual faces he followed. 

Katsuki wasn’t the type to do things halfway. Whether it was in battle or in bed, he always gave everything he had. He liked control, craved it, and when it came to sex, that desire for dominance only amplified.There was something about seeing his girls completely undone - driven to the point of exhaustion, their minds hazy and bodies twitching from overstimulation - that made his blood rush straight to his meaty, veiny cock. He loved it. Loved fucking them stupid, pushing them until they were too weak to even move, taking them apart piece by piece until they were nothing more than a quivering, overstimulated mess. He'd fuck them hard, in the deepest, most mind-numbing positions that left them gasping for air, so lost in the pleasure that they couldn’t think straight. And when he was done, when he was satisfied and had cum deep inside them, he’d sit back and admire his work - the way his cum would slowly dribble out of their abused, slippery holes, their bodies so spent they couldn’t even squirm at the discomfort. That sight alone was enough to make him hard all over again. 

Not everyone could keep up with him. He knew that. His sex drive was relentless, and sometimes, it was easier to find that satisfaction elsewhere - somewhere he didn’t have to hold back or deal with the aftermath. Because that was the thing about Bakugo Katsuki - he didn’t just fuck. He conquered. 

That’s why he liked OnlyFans. It was a place where he could explore the things that got him going without any strings attached.

Bakugo liked to watch. He followed plenty of girls there who reminded him of the kind of sex he liked to have - the ones who weren’t afraid to push their limits, who would ride their toys until their legs were shaking, their eyes fluttering in that tell-tale sign of pleasure that had turned to something far more intense. The girls who let him imagine fucking them so stupid, until they couldn’t even think, until all they could do was huff and puff his name into the mattress, their bodies boneless, overwhelmed, claimed his.

Upon spotting a familiar figure suggested in his feed, he felt his entire body go rigid.

It was you.

No fucking way, he thought to himself, eyes wide in disbelief. There you were, posing in a barely-there lace bra and panties, your lips curved into a teasing smile. You looked so different - so confident, so seductive - nothing like the girl he passed by in the hallway every day. His cock immediately stirred, blood rushing south as he continued to stare, unable to believe his eyes.

Bakugo's mind raced, trying to process the image. You had an OnlyFans? Fuck, that’s hot. The realization hit him like a truck - he could actually watch you, see more of you than he'd ever imagined.

Without thinking, he subscribed, and a moment later, a notification popped up: “New subscriber: ExplosiveKing.”

His cock twitched at the sight of your next photo - a close-up of your tits spilling out of the lacey bra, your nipples hard and pushing against the fabric. Then came a greeting message, and Bakugo almost dropped his phone when he saw it.

Thanks for subscribing, handsome ♡ Hope you enjoy the content! 

You even attached a photo of you in nothing but a thong, your ass up and face turned towards the camera with a playful wink.

He groaned softly, his cock already straining against his boxers as he stared at the image, replaying every interaction you two had ever had. All the tension, all the moments he pushed away, came rushing back in an overwhelming wave of desire. His dick was dribbling more precum into boxers, the fabric going from damp to soaked quickly as he feverishly sought his release.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, already palming himself through his Kalvin Clein boxers. His left hand reached down, cupping his dick through his pants. "Nnnnhhh," he couldn't stop the soft and breathy moan that escaped him as he flipped his dick up, into a more comfortable position. His hips were already pushing forward, into his hand. He needed more.

His fingers fumbled as he tugged his boxers down, needing relief as he gripped his length, hard and throbbing. His breathing grew heavy, and within seconds, his rough hand was wrapped around his cock, the image of your perfect ass burning in his mind. He pumped himself slowly at first, his imagination running wild. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you lived just a few feet away from him, and here he was, jerking off to your nudes. 

"Shit, you're perfect," he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the screen as he pumped his cock. He imagined your hands on him instead, the way your soft lips would feel against the tight skin on his rock-hard cock, the sound of your breathy, sloppy moans in his ear. His grip tightened, matching the pace of his fantasy, biting his lip to muffle the groan threatening to escape.

As he stroked himself faster, the guilt began to fade, replaced by raw, animalistic desire. You’d never know. And hell, if you were posting this shit for other guys to see, then why not him?

It didn’t take long before he was groaning your name under his breath, imagining you on top of him, your tight body grinding down on his cock. The idea of having you - right there, in the flesh - made his pulse race. His fist moved faster, eyes squeezed shut as he pictured the way you’d look riding him, those soft lips of yours gasping for breath as he filled you up with his meaty dick.

His imagination ran wild - your pretty face, your tits bouncing as he fucked you senseless, the way you’d cry his name. That thought alone sent him spiraling, his cock twitching. With a low growl, Bakugo came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling onto his hand as he panted, chest heaving. He kept pumping, riding the high of his orgasm, but even as the pleasure subsided, he couldn't get you out of his head. 

For a moment, guilt flickered in the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. Hell, you were always so nice to him, always sweet and considerate. And here he was, jerking off to your pics in secret. But as his phone buzzed with a new notification, that guilt quickly dissolved into something primal. 

You had just started a live stream.

Bakugo's cock twitched in his hand again as he opened your stream. 

You were sitting on your bed, wearing a cute little lingerie set that clung to your body in all the right ways, thigh-high stockings completing the look. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you adjust the camera, giving everyone a perfect view of your body. "Hey, cuties!" you chirped happily, the camera lighting up with your playful smile as more viewers trickled in. "Hope you're ready for some fun tonight!"

ExplosiveKing: Damn, doll, you look fucking amazing tonight

"Aw, thank you, ExplosiveKing!" you giggled, reading his comment. "So sweet of you to join!"

Hearing you say his username in that sexy, cheerful voice of yours set something off in him. His eyes darkened with lust as he started stroking his slobbery cock again, the thought of you calling out to him making him harder than ever.

You started off slow, teasing your viewers with gentle touches, running your hands over your body as you spoke sweetly to them. But when you pulled out the vibrator, Bakugo nearly lost it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing as he watched you slip the toy between your legs, letting out soft moans as you teased yourself.

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every little gasp, every roll of your hips - it was driving him wild. He matched your pace, fucking his fist like he was fucking you, imagining how your pussy would feel clenching around him.

Then, as if reading his mind, you slid the vibrator inside your already sopping pussy, your breath hitching as you moaned for your audience. 

Bakugo bit his lip hard, stroking himself faster as he imagined what it’d be like to have you under him, begging for his cock. His grip tightened, pumping his length in time with your movements, chasing that high again. 

It happened so quickly that his brain barely registered the exact moment.

His cum surged up through his throbbing, overstimulated cock in powerful spurts, spilling and bubbling from the slick, swollen tip, leaving a thick trail of pearly semen coating his hand and seeping through his fingers as Katsuki moaned your name. 

The young man fervently hoped you hadn’t overheard him from your bedroom.

Weeks passed, and Bakugo’s obsession with you only grew. He watched every stream, donated more than anyone else, and even bought his first sex toy - a pocket pussy - just to mimic fucking you when you used your toys on camera. Every Wednesday and Friday became his ritual. He’d lock himself in his room, pull out his laptop, and jerk off until his cock was raw and spent. Sometimes he'd cum three or four times in a single stream, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

But as much as he enjoyed it, it started to get under his skin. The other men watching you, the ones leaving comments and drooling over you - it pissed him off. You were his. He hated knowing they were getting off to you too, even though you were right there, living with him, just down the hall.

One night, after one of your streams, you noticed something unusual - ExplosiveKing had donated more than usual. 

There was a short comment attached to the donation:

"You have a way of getting under my skin like no one else. No matter how many others are watching, you’re mine in a way they’ll never understand."

And honestly? You didn’t mind. Among all your fans, he stood out as your favorite - dedicated, generous, and mysterious.

What you didn’t know, though, was that the man behind the screen was Katsuki Bakugo, your roommate. That the same explosive hero you lived with was jerking off to you multiple times a week, falling deeper into his secret obsession with every stream.

He wasn’t merely your biggest fan - he was the man who longed for you entirely to himself, who fantasized about fucking you dumb every time he heard your sweet voice. For now, Bakugo remained hidden in the shadows, silently worshiping you from his bedroom, awaiting the day he would muster the courage to reveal just how desperate he was to be your boyfriend.

[ducksido]

Hai! It is thou, Idia anon😛😛😛 I have an especially evil request because I had an evil idea and needed an evil solution, imagine this, Idia with a model reader, like super famous (almost as famous as vil) reader, constantly posing for photos, run ways, shootings, whatever, and one day reader does a swim suit shooting (more implied male reader cause evil evil shirtlessness) and it gets… A lot of… fans… basically a hoard of people simping over refer in comments or whatever, and Idia sees all of this (cause ofc he does) and Hes all jealous and pouty, so reader lets Idia come along to their next photo shoot (swim suit one as well😛) and then if his face is covered up, it’s like reader is in his lap, while Idia is wearing a hoodie but readers fully shirtless, pretty evident their dating although he stays anonymous and yeah! Fic would basically be Idia jealous and sad, 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 photo shoot time and then fans getting all confused🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!

(I did female and male bodied reader)

MALE:

Idia was dying.

Not in the tragic, poetic sense—though he would argue this was a tragedy—but in the very real, very internet-fueled death-by-simping sense.

He had made the mistake. He clicked on the link. The cursed link.

[Y/N in swimwear for Sunkissed Sirens’ new campaign] #BehindTheScenes #TooHotToHandle #Literally

Idia was immediately greeted by images of you—shirtless, tanned from the artificial golden lighting, muscles subtly flexed in a way that looked both casual and dangerously thirst-trappy. Beach sand, a pool floatie, sunglasses pushed up into your hair. Your grin was crooked, mischievous, and entirely illegal in at least fifteen dimensions of his brain.

And the comments. Sweet Seven, the comments.

“HOW is he real.” “Not to be dramatic but I’d sell my soul.” “WHO is the mystery guy he winked at in the behind-the-scenes vid????” “Y/N could punch me and I’d say thank you.” “Whoever’s dating him must be built like a Final Boss to handle that.”

Idia's eye twitched behind the blue glow of his monitor.

Final Boss, huh? Final Bosses had confidence. Final Bosses didn’t curl up in their gaming chair wearing a shark hoodie and cry into a plush of Cosmo Bongo-chan the 8-bit Alpaca.

But the worst part? You hadn't even told him about the shoot beforehand. He woke up to that internet firestorm like some kind of low-level mob in your romance RPG.

Cue sulking. Cue muttering to Ortho. Cue dramatic Discord statuses like "🧍: loading jealousy.exe".

So when you texted him later with a suspicious: “Wanna come to my next shoot? It’s swimwear again 👀”

He didn’t even try to act chill. He responded with “OMW rn. Do I need pants.”

The Studio — Two Days Later

The room was buzzing with stylists, flashing lights, and beach props. But all Idia noticed was you—laughing in nothing but swim trunks and a silk robe, perfectly airbrushed and already pulling in every lens in a 10-mile radius.

He felt invisible in his oversized hoodie, mask, and shades.

Which is exactly how he liked it. Until—

“Hey, babe,” you called out, mid-touchup, “Come sit with me between takes.”

He flinched. “Wha—h-here? N-now?!”

But you were already patting your lap like it was the VIP gaming chair of his dreams.

Someone from the crew raised a brow. “Wait, who's that—?”

You just shrugged, all casual mischief. “My plus one. He’s a little camera-shy.”

The next shot? You, shirtless, perched on a towel-draped beach chair—with Idia behind you, hood up, mask on, arms loosely around your waist. It wasn’t even subtle. The way your body leaned back into his. The way your hand casually played with the drawstring of his hoodie.

Every camera caught it.

Internet, Five Minutes After the Photos Drop

“WHO IS THE MYSTERY GUY IN THE HOODIE???” “Why does Y/N look like he’s in love. WHO IS THAT MAN.” “I’m not okay. They’re literally in his lap. THEY’RE IN HIS LAP.�� “Is that the same hoodie from that one blurry live stream last month????” “I’ve never felt so single in my life.”

Idia saw it all.

He was still in your lap, scrolling on his tablet while you drank a protein shake.

“…Are you trying to kill me with public affection?” he mumbled, voice muffled by your bare shoulder.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear. “Consider it payback for the simps.”

He sputtered.

You just smiled.

“Let ‘em speculate. You're my final boss.”

FEMALE:

Idia Shroud was going through it.

He knew dating someone famous would eventually lead to psychological damage. He had mentally prepared himself for red carpet events, fan edits, and the occasional scandal headline.

What he hadn’t prepared for… was this.

[Y/N L/N stuns in exclusive swimsuit shoot for Sunkissed Sirens 🌊☀️]

His entire Twitter feed was on fire. Every post, every tag, every thread. And in every single photo, you were the picture of sun-drenched perfection. Minimal coverage. Maximum thirst trap. Your toned figure glowing under soft gold lighting. Posing in the pool, lounging on a floatie, licking a melting popsicle.

And of course… the comments.

“She’s not real. She’s AI-generated. No human looks like this.” “I’m chewing drywall rn.” “WHO is that mystery guy she giggled at off-camera?!?” “Whoever her boyfriend is… I just wanna talk 🪓🪓🪓” “Bro I swear someone’s in love behind that lens. You can SEE IT.”

Idia had never experienced this flavor of psychological warfare before. It was horrifying.

He curled tighter into his beanbag chair, clutching his tablet like it could save him. Ortho offered comforting statistics about parasocial relationships. It didn’t help. Not when every time he blinked, he saw you in that red bikini.

And then you had the audacity to message him:

“You okay, babe? Wanna come to the next shoot? 👙👀”

He stared at your text for a solid minute, then just replied: “Can I wear my hoodie?”

The Studio — Two Days Later

You were in full glam: dewy skin, glossy lips, swimsuit and a sheer cover-up that did absolutely nothing to hide your curves.

Idia was already sweating. Under his hoodie. In the air conditioning.

You waved him over between takes, slipping your arms around his waist and pulling him toward the lounge setup.

“Sit with me?” you asked sweetly.

“H-h-here?! I’m not even… background NPC material…” he whispered.

But you were already dragging him onto the chair, settling yourself in his lap like it was the most casual thing in the world. His arms automatically wrapped around your waist, fingers clutching the hem of your mesh wrap.

The photographer didn’t even question it. They just snapped the shot.

A glowing, swimsuit-clad goddess lounging in the lap of a faceless man in a hoodie—arms around her like a lover, like a secret, like a claim.

Internet, Five Minutes Later

“WHO TF IS THE GUY IN THE HOODIE??? I’M SHAKING.” “He’s got hoodie privileges. HOODIE. PRIVILEGES.” “She’s literally glowing and he’s in her lap like some Final Boss??? Pls.” “The way he’s holding her… that’s not PR. That’s POSSESSION.” “Someone enhance the reflection in her sunglasses. ENHANCE.” “Is that the same hoodie from her stream last month?! Are we confirming HoodieGuyLore???”

Meanwhile, Idia was hiding behind your shoulder, phone screen glowing with the chaos he accidentally created.

“…I feel like I just soft-launched myself into the Hunger Games.”

You laughed, turning your head to peck his jaw, just below the hoodie edge. “Let them suffer. You’re the one who gets to hold me.”

He mumbled something unintelligible and pressed his forehead against your bare shoulder, effectively melting into a flustered pile of hoodie.

Bonus Tweet from an Unhinged Stan Account:

@YNSimpSquad no bc the way she was sitting in his lap like she knew we were gonna lose our minds… she did this ON PURPOSE 😭😭😭

[sepicriting]

What would happen if reader confesses to the twins first ? Either one of them only or both of them ?

confessing first to yandere twins

—ask yourself, are you sure you want this?

contents: yandere male x gender-neutral reader. yandere female x gender-neutral reader. only reference to reader/darling is 'you' and the nickname 'firestorm'. murder.

notes: i think i went a bit overboard diving deeper into them, but do enjoy!

If you were the one to confess first to both of them at once, their reactions would largely depend on how you confess.

Because imagine spending time with them, arms linked with both. Lina is happily pointing to every single item she thinks you’d like, with Varis passively listening though his eyes are on you. Then you say: “I like you two.”

Their heads whip to you and you feel them stop instantly. The air changes, Lina’s mouth is hanging open while Varis’s surprise is written all over his face.

Lina’s nervous laughter could be heard first. “I-I don’t think I heard you properly? Did you say you wanted two of something, firestorm?” She tries to convince herself that you didn’t just say what her heart’s been wanting you to say. She can’t be greedy, she thinks.

“‘m pretty sure your firestorm jus’ said somethin’ else.” Varis’s voice rang close, his head lowering to lay on your shoulder. “Wanna repeat it?” Close enough to feel his breath on your neck, the tips of his hair brushing against your cheek.

You stammer out what you said, rendered flustered by the handsome man. All he does is hum with a smile, shooting his sister a look that has her moving closer so you’d be trapped.

“Do you really mean that, firestorm…?” Lina has tiny hearts in her eyes now, waiting with bated breath for your confirmation.

If you prepared beforehand to confess to both of them by taking them someplace nice, Varis picks up rather quickly that you’re trying to woo them. He’d spend the entire time giving you knowing grins behind his sister’s back, and play dumb when you ask him what’s up. He’d keep up the poorly-concealed act until you break the ice and say you like them both.

Now, about confessing to only one of the twins… You would be in for a lot of risk here. The entire reason why the twins come in a package and not separately is all because they know they would kill each other if one or the other has your heart. They still do care about each other to a certain degree, enough to steer away from murdering, so to have you confessing to only one is akin to a dam breaking — Disaster will strike.

Lina, on the other hand, would be none the wiser. She’ll overthink and inwardly fawn over your attempts to romance them, but then quickly scold herself and say that she’s still not quite your type and she has to try harder to embody that. Hearing you say that you like them both would cause her brain to short-circuit and her face to overheat. But nonetheless, she would happily be with you! And her brother too, she supposes…

The tricky part is that you’re kept unaware of the twins’ dark sides, so you wouldn’t be able to hear about it until the twin of your choice lets you know what the other’s been doing behind your back — Of course, they’re completely innocent! They were just scared/wary of their twin doing anything to you if you found out…so please don’t be upset at them!

The next course of action they would do depends on who you’ve chosen to confess to.

Lina would take you elsewhere, somewhere FAR away, someplace you won’t be hurt or involved. Sadly, this would mean that you would have to give up using technology and switch to more traditional ways of life — the only thing that would be left is an old television. She’s well-aware that her brother would be able to track both of you with his talents, so you’d be subjected to a life of constant fear and protection with Lina. Going to your family was out of the question, Varis wouldn’t hesitate to take them down too.

She’d be updated on all the recent deaths on the news, a trail of bodies leading closer and closer to where you are. And she’s not stupid, she knows this is his doing. It wouldn’t be long before he’s found you.

Ultimately, you might wake up to find someone dead at your door. Just pray that it isn’t the woman who's been keeping you safe.

Varis wouldn’t go to such extremes, not at first. He’d keep you right where you are, insisting to let him do all of the work. Though you’re scared of what Lina might do, he’s calm, with business as usual as he types away on his laptop an hour after you’ve learned the truth. That’s not quite correct though, he’s only keeping it together because he knows what he does next is crucial to being with you. Even as you face Lina with Varis, you keep his words in mind on how to behave so you wouldn’t be next. Wouldn’t be suspected.

He arranges a huge scandal that discredits Lina in the form of a post, exposing her for all of her misdeeds and nasty actions. It’s enough to cause her to riot, but you wouldn’t be there to witness it as you’ve fled.

You wouldn’t hear anything about her from Varis for a long while. He’s kept you in the dark, though you know he’s been keeping tabs on her behind the scenes. He’s trying to give you some semblance of a normal life, and maybe you appreciate that… Though, when the doorbell rang and the police stood before the barrier, telling Varis that he would be arrested, you completely missed the familiar figure of Lina watching in the distance.

[jasontoddsguns]

Imagine the league thinking Shazam is a school teacher because of the way he acts

If that makes sense

There’s a betting pool going around the league about what his job might be, that’s one of the top bets. Others include:

Unemployed, due to no secret identity - Superman, Green Lantern (John), Green Arrow

Firefighter - Aquaman

Unemployed by choice - Green Lantern (Hal), Firestorm

Social worker - Wonder Woman, Cyborg

Midwife - Hawkgirl

Nurse - Hawkman, Flash, Nightwing

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Platonic Grandfather! Thranduil x Reader

The grand halls of the Woodland Realm were filled with the soft glow of torchlight, and Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves, sat on his carved throne.

His posture was poised, and his expression distant but sharp, as if his mind wandered the ages of Arda while still monitoring the world around him.

"Grandfather!" Your voice rang out, shattering the peaceful air.

Thranduil's brow twitched, no matter how much he corrected you about using the sindrin elvish 'Adarharn' instead of the human 'grandfarher', you still call him that.

He could never wrap his head around what your father saw in your human mother.

"What is it, child?"

"Do dragons sneeze fire?"

The Elvenking froze, then slowly raised his gaze to meet yours.

"What nonsense is this?"

You strode closer, full of chaotic energy.

"I mean, they breathe fire, right? So if they had a cold and sneezed, would it be like a tiny firestorm? Or do they just sneeze normal air like boring creatures?"

Thranduil's face remained utterly impassive, though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"You disturb my affairs to ask if dragons, beings of immense power, sneeze fire?"

"Yes!" you replied with an unflinching grin.

"It's important! What if one sneezes near Mirkwood? Are we prepared for fireproof defenses? Have you thought about this, Grandfather?"

He leaned back in his throne, fingers steepling as his piercing gaze bore into you.

"I have ruled this realm for centuries, faced Smaug himself in his prime, and dealt with matters of grave importance. Yet never, not once, has anyone dared to ask such a ridiculous question."

"Ridiculous or brilliant?" you countered, tilting your head.

He sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that seemed to drain the weariness of millennia.

"Dragons do not sneeze fire. Their fire is an intentional act, not a byproduct of a cold. Now, if you value your continued residence in this realm, you will refrain from asking such hollow questions."

"But what if they do sneeze fire when they are babies?" you pressed, eyes wide with mock innocence.

"Imagine a baby dragon with the sniffles-"

"Enough," Thranduil cut in, his voice stern and final.

"Legolas shall hear of your antics."

"Great!" you chirped.

"He will want to know about sneezing dragons too."

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I regret that I ever allowed him to leave you in my care."

"Grandfather, if you are immortal, how old are you? Like really old? Old enough to know dirt personally?"

Thranduil gave you a long-suffering stare. "I am far older than you could comprehend, and I have no acquaintance with dirt."

"Are you sure?" You tilted your head, looking at him critically.

"You have got that ancient vibe. You know, wise and mysterious, but also a bit crusty?”

"Crusty?" he repeated.

"Yes, like bread that has been left out too long. Still good, but definitely needs some butter."

Thranduil rose from his throne, towering over you with an aura of icy authority.

"Child, you are testing the limits of my patience."

"Really, how close am I?"

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

By the end of the week, the Woodland Realm had descended into mild anarchy.

You had declared yourself "Princess of Fun" and commandeered half the guard to organize a deer race through the palace gardens.

Thranduil found himself standing at the edge of the chaos, arms folded as he observed the scene.

Guards chased deers, elves tripped over hastily made obstacles, and you stood on a table, yelling encouragement at the animals.

"Faster, Mr. Nutkins! You’ve got this! Believe in yourself!"

Thranduil cleared his throat loudly. The table you were standing on wobbled as you froze, realizing you were caught.

"Oh, greetings, Grandfather," you said sheepishly, hopping down.

"Did you see Mr. Nutkins? He’s the fastest-"

"You have dishonored this realm, disrupted my court, and terrorized the guards with your absurd antics." He stepped closer, his stern glare boring into you.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

You grinned up at him. "You smiled a little when Nutkins won, didn’t you?"

Thranduil blinked, caught off-guard.

"I most certainly did not."

"Did too."

"I did not."

"Did too."

The Elvenking sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose once more.

"You are relentless."

"Thanks, Grandfather!" you chirped, taking it as a compliment.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

When Legolas returned from his quest months later, weary but victorious, he found his father seated on his throne, looking strangely serene.

At Thranduil's side, at the end of his throne's stairs, you sat cross-legged on the floor, gleefully teaching a group of guards how to make flower crowns.

Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"Did she... behave?"

Thranduil took a long sip of wine before answering.

"Define behave."

"Did she make you mad?"

Thranduil's lips twitched.

"She did not succeed."

You beamed. "I'm his favorite now."

Legolas groaned. "I'm never leaving you here again."

Thranduil smirked, swirling his wine.

"Good."

You grinned, handing your father a crown made of wildflowers.

"That's for you."

"She is to remain here," Thranduil interrupted smoothly, before adding "Permanently."

"What?!" Legolas exclaimed.

"Ada, we have agreed that once the ring is destroyed, she will return with me."

Thranduil descended gracefully from his throne, each step deliberate and regal.

Stopping before his son, he reached out and lifted your small form into his arms

"She is now under my care. Seek another child if you must, for this one shall not leave my side."

C.ai version: link

[kankuroplease]

Considering how much Tajima & Sumi loved one another & were trying for a daughter after having five sons, do you think they would have had more children? Perhaps children in between Inari, Kota & Tenko? Or are their six children more than enough? I love this family 😔🫶🏼

They couldn’t have fit a child between Kota and Tenko if they wanted to as they were born in the same year and stressed Tajima out (he genuinely thought Sumi was just plump from giving birth not too long ago and eating well, not that she was pregnant when he saw her again after months on the battlefield) 😆

Their kids are a bit sardined together, but if they were to have more than six, the best times to have them would be between (before Madara), Madara and Inari, Inari and Kota, Tenko and Izuna, or Izuna and Ringo

[thatnightlamp]

LORGAR. ANGST

Lorgar walked the burning plains of Sicarus, but in his mind, the sands were redder, the sky softer, the winds laden not with the taint of the Warp but with the incense of a thousand shrines. Colchis, in its death, had branded itself upon his soul more indelibly than when it lived.

She walked beside him.

She always did.

Barefoot, her robes fluttered in a wind only he could feel. Her smile was the same - warm, patient, maddening. Her voice, her voice, wove through his thoughts like a prayer he could never forget.

"You’re walking too fast again, my Lorgar. Slow down. The wind has tales to tell, if only you’d listen."

He turned his head slightly, just enough to show he heard her. His golden eyes softened.

“I must hurry,” he murmured aloud, though no one stood beside him in truth. “There is work yet unfinished. You know this.”

"You always say that. You never rest, not even now. Look at what it’s made you."

Her presence was a knife and a balm. For centuries, Lorgar had endured war, betrayal, daemonic revelation, and the murder of gods. But her, her loss, remained the only wound that had never scabbed, never scarred. The fire that consumed Colchis had not burned her body, it had consumed something deeper, something in him.

And so, she remained.

At the edge of his vision. In the flicker of every flame. In the echo of incense swinging from silver chains.

She is not real, said the rational mind. The daemon mind. The part of him that had been remade by the Eye.

But he silenced that thought.

Because she was real. She had to be.

The others noticed. They always did.

Erebus, ever the watchful vulture, dared not speak of it often. But Kor Phaeron… he had always been more blunt.

“She is gone,” the old priest hissed once, as Lorgar spoke to her during a war council, his voice gentle amid roars of blood and conquest. “You shame yourself before the Legion. Before the Pantheon.”

Lorgar’s gaze fell on Kor Phaeron like a titan’s shadow.

“She is here,” he said simply. “And she is listening. You would do well to speak with reverence.”

The silence that followed was colder than the void.

Even the Word Bearers who would tear stars asunder for their Primarch did not meet his eyes. Not then.

In private, Erebus whispered to his cabal. “He sees ghosts. He speaks with ash. How can he lead us into the Age of Truth if he cannot escape his past?”

But none dared confront him again. The last one who tried was a dark priest of Serrix, a proud zealot who declared Lorgar blinded by sentiment.

His body now lined the Basilica of Eternal Fire, twisted into a sculpture that wept blood.

In the solitude of his sanctum, surrounded by tomes of daemonology and relics of a thousand heresies, Lorgar found peace. Not in the knowledge, nor in the divine madness, but in her.

She sat beside the brazier, legs folded beneath her, eyes half-lidded.

"You remember what I told you when we were young?" she asked one evening, voice low.

“You told me many things.”

"That the fire cannot touch the soul, only the skin. That belief is a flame brighter than the sun. That even when the mountains fall, faith will remain."

Lorgar closed his eyes. He could hear the fire crackle, could smell the myrrh on her skin. He wanted to believe he only imagined her, but it was too complete. Too vivid. It was easier, kinder, to let himself drift in it.

“It’s not faith that remained,” he said at last. “Only the pain.”

"Then you’ve stopped believing."

He opened his eyes.

She looked at him, disappointed.

And he couldn’t bear that.

He saw her on the battlefield too.

Amid the firestorms of Atharax, she stood among the ruins, untouched. In the blood-drenched temples of the false Emperor’s lapdogs, she walked barefoot through the corpses, never flinching.

"Too far, Lorgar," she would whisper. "You were meant to bring light, not become the pyre."

And he would lower his mace, even as the daemon within snarled for slaughter.

His sons obeyed without question, though they did not understand.

They saw only the shadow of the man who once had stood on Khur’s steps and preached a unity forged in flame and verse. Now, they saw a haunted figure, speaking softly to someone who wasn’t there, pausing in sermons to gaze into corners empty of all but memory.

Years passed. Or centuries. Time was fluid within the Eye.

She aged. Not in body, but in presence. Sometimes she was the girl he had saved from the burning monastery. And sometimes, too rarely, she was what she might have become had Colchis not burned: a priestess, serene and wise, perhaps even Empress of a world that never was.

"You’re holding on to a ghost," she said once, her voice almost bitter.

“Then let me,” he said. “You are the last of my home. The last of my heart.”

"And what of your gods?"

“They speak too loudly. You whisper.”

"And you still hear me?"

He touched his temple, then his chest. “Always.”

Sometimes, she asked if he remembered the day the sky turned black.

How could he forget?

The orbitals fell first. Then the firestorms swept through Vharadesh like a second birth. The oceans boiled. The mountains cracked. And in the smoke of the apocalypse, her hand slipped from his, and he couldn’t find it again.

He had called her name then, not as a Primarch, not as a prophet, but as a lover.

And no one answered.

Until now.

Now, she answered always.

The daemons began to mock him.

They danced in her shape, wearing her face, twisting her words. He destroyed them with fire and fury, one after another, shouting her name in rage and devotion.

"You are not her," he spat, standing over a writhing horror wearing her eyes. "You do not speak as she speaks. You do not know me."

But the thing only smiled.

"Don’t we?" it whispered.

He burned it to ash.

And still… that whisper lingered.

One night, if time could still be called such, he broke.

He screamed into the void, tearing through the walls of his sanctum, tearing pages from holy books and hurling relics into the abyss.

“I know you’re real!” he roared. “Tell me I’m not insane! Tell me I’m not damned to see you forever while the rest of the galaxy forgets!”

The silence that followed was deeper than any Warp storm.

Then, from the shattered shadows, she stepped forth. Calm. Radiant. Real.

"Would it matter?" she asked. "If I was a dream, would you stop loving me?"

“No,” he said, voice cracking.

"If I was only in your mind, would you let me go?"

He fell to his knees.

“No.”

"Then what does it matter?"

He never asked again.

He never searched for truth, or for healing. He let her be whatever she was: spirit, memory, echo, illusion.

She was his. And he would not give her up.

Even as the galaxy burned, even as his brothers fell or ascended, even as gods rose and broke and screamed his name in vain-

He had her.

His last piece of Colchis.

His last shard of innocence.

And in the end, when the stars themselves wept blood, Lorgar Aurelian could still be found walking the quiet halls of a ruined temple, listening to a voice that no one else heard, smiling gently at someone no one else could see.

[reality-detective]

BREAKING NEWS: MELANIA TRUMP JUST BROKE HER SILENCE—THE ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT WAS AN INSIDE JOB

In a move that has stunned the nation, Melania Trump has shattered her silence with a chilling revelation: the assassination attempt on Donald Trump was not an isolated act of violence, but a betrayal from within. This shocking accusation has cast a shadow over Trump's inner circle and ignited a storm of speculation.

The Attack That Shook the Nation

On July 13, 2024, during a rally near Butler, Pennsylvania, a gunman opened fire, striking Trump in the ear, tragically killing one audience member and injuring two others. The assailant, Thomas Matthew Crooks, was swiftly neutralized, but the nation was left in disbelief. What was seen as a lone attack has now been turned upside down by Melania's explosive claim—this wasn’t just an attack; it was a calculated betrayal.

Melania’s Accusation Rocks the Inner Circle

For years, Melania has remained the quiet, dignified figure behind her husband. But her recent statements have ignited a firestorm. “This was not just an attack on my husband, but a betrayal,” she declared, hinting that those closest to Trump might have orchestrated the attempt. Melania’s bold accusation has shattered the illusion of unity in Trump’s camp and turned the focus toward dark conspiracies that go beyond what anyone imagined.

A Deeper Conspiracy?

Could individuals within Trump’s trusted circle have been involved? Political analysts are buzzing with the possibility that this was an elaborate attempt to push Trump off the stage, orchestrated by figures who saw his dominance as a threat. Melania’s statements have breathed new life into this theory, forcing investigators to question everything—from Secret Service failures to who really benefited from the attack.

Questions Loom Larger Than Ever

Melania’s words have triggered new doubts about security protocols and whether someone on the inside allowed this tragedy to happen. How did the gunman get so close? Could this betrayal go higher than anyone has dared to suggest? As investigators dig deeper, the tension around Trump’s circle continues to build, with Melania’s claims fueling the fire.

A New Force in the Fight

No longer content to stay in the background, Melania Trump has transformed into a fierce defender of her family. Her accusations have turned her into a central figure, raising questions no one dared ask. Her legacy, once quiet and understated, is now tied to this bold claim, and the implications are monumental.

The storm around Trump has intensified. Melania’s voice has become a rallying cry, her words sending shockwaves across the political landscape. Whether or not her claims are ever proven, her determination to expose the truth will not go unnoticed. 🤔

[twilightofthesandwiches]

could you imagine if superboss number 5 gave ralsei a scarf that outright replaces heal prayer with something like a firestorm

Yeah, that's an interesting idea I've been thinking about, with regards to Ralsei's "Puppet Scarf" and the Hammer of Justice fight improving Susie's Healing Magic... What if by the end of the Secret Bosses Routes, to fit in with the themes of freedom, the Fun Gang also breaks away from their Assigned Party Role with a loadout that allows Ralsei to turn from a Squishy Healer to a Glass-Cannon Black Mage and for Susie to be a bulky physical-fighter-healer-combo (basically like a D&D Cleric)?

And of course, letting Ralsei explicitly use the Dreemurr Family's signature Fire Magic would also be a Pretty Big Deal...

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wrestling Moment: Hey Jealousy - Jonny Firestorm v Reese Wells (bgeast.com)

It's a wrestling tale as old as time. Just when you start to get good at something, you find out that you're already past your prime. Today we look at the jealousy of Jonny as he rips-apart Reese.

Jonny Firestorm v Reese Wells (bgeast.com) SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory We enter on a taught and fit Reese, in peak condition and ready to prove himself. Bronzed and strapping, those lean muscles have never faced a challenge they couldn't overcome.

Next we're met with Jonny arriving fully covered up in a bathrobe, sizing up the young challenger.  I can almost imagine him reflecting on his own youth and nostalgic for earlier times.

Jonny: What do we have here? 

Jonny: I used to be built like that once ...

The Action

Jonny is a true pro gay wrestler, the man knows how to throw a jobber around and excels at the fine art of showing him off to boot.  But what Jonny doesn't get at first is just how talented the new kid is.  Not only does the kid have him beat physically, that much is sure, but he also has him matched in wrestling gravitas.  

At some point it's clear that this is more than just about winning.  Jonny has come to wrestle his own feelings out and beat those same feelings into Reese.  

Suddenly something shifts during the match.  Maybe Reese is just too quick or maybe Jonny just couldn't keep up with the young buck, whatever it was, a fatal error was made and Reese claims a win over the more experienced Jonny.  

It was bad enough that Jonny had to suffer the humiliation of youth besting his experience, no Reese had to take it a step further and shove that fit, tight body in his face.  

Jonny: Did that just happen?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!

The Moment 

And just as suddenly, jealousy has crossed over into rage.   Our match concludes with a victorious Reese relishing in his triumph over the heel.  Now I say this is the conclusion of the match because from this point on, it's no longer a match, this is all about settling scores.  

In fact, this isn't about the match at all but really about an experienced wrestler fighting against time itself. If Jonny can only pound enough experience into this young buck then maybe, just maybe, he can feel that nostalgia again.

This wrestling moment is all about the feelings brought out in me and isn't that what artistic expression is truly meant to do? For you see, the feeling of a seasoned heel pounding his feelings into a young jobber is what gay wrestling is all about. I can almost feel the jealousy radiating from Jonny, which makes sharing in his eventual gratification all the sweeter.

Jonny: I...I'm the man.  (Yes Jonny, you certainly are)

[seoulzie]

a cat-astrophic interview

WHEREIN: beomgyu casually mentions he has a little one at home ..

彡 pairing: idol!beomgyu x gn!reader 彡 genre: lil crack & fluff! 彡 warnings: none!

SEUL SPEAKS! ✎ first fic! feedback nd reblogs are greatly appreciated! >< the cats name is miso kekeke

the fluorescent lights of the studio buzzed overhead, casting an artificial glow on beomgyu's face. he was on a talk show, the usual whirlwind of energy slightly dampened by the fatigue of a long day. the host, a bubbly woman with a contagious laugh, was wrapping up the interview.

"so, beomgyu-ssi," she chirped, leaning forward conspiratorially. "txt is known for being a group of close friends, practically family. but do you have a special someone waiting for you back home? maybe someone you take care of?"

the question caught beomgyu off guard. he hadn't prepared for anything beyond the usual questions about music and upcoming promotions. his mind flashed to the image of you sprawled on the couch that morning, hair a mess and eyes glued to a cartoon. a smile tugged at his lips.

"actually," he began, the playful glint returning to his eyes, "we do have a little one at home keeping things interesting."

the host gasped, a flurry of whispers rippling through the studio. staff wondering what the hell was going on. the host's eyes widened. "a little one? beomgyu, are you...?"

"being a dad?" beomgyu finished her sentence with a laugh, enjoying the delightful chaos he was unknowingly unleashing. "not quite! but it definitely feels like it sometimes."

he then proceeded to launch into an elaborate, albeit slightly exaggerated, tale about the trials and tribulations of co-parenting your "little one." he described epic battles over spilled milk (courtesy of miso’s playful swats at his morning cereal), late-night diaper changes (which, of course, involved wrestling a wriggling cat into a new catnip-filled toy), and the constant struggle to maintain a balance of order in your "messy" household.

with each embellished detail, the host, clearly flustered but trying to maintain her composure, peppered him with questions. beomgyu, ever the performer, reveled in the attention, completely oblivious to the potential social media firestorm he was igniting.

▹ time skip

beomgyu bounced into the living room, post-interview glow radiating from him. you were sprawled on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on your lap, engrossed in a reality show marathon.

"did you see the interview?" beomgyu chirped, collapsing dramatically onto the other end of the couch.

"nope," you mumbled, eyes glued to the screen. "busy catching up on the drama between brenda and tatiana."

he chuckled, that adorable crinkling of his eyes you loved so much. "well, you're in for a surprise then."

finally tearing your gaze away from the tv, you raised an eyebrow. "hit me."

"they asked about life at home," beomgyu began, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "and i, being the honest guy i am, mentioned how much fun it is taking care of our little one."

your heart skipped a beat. "little one?" you echoed, a cold dread settling in your stomach.

"yeah!" beomgyu exclaimed, oblivious to your growing panic. "taking care of miso is, like, the best part of my day. she;s such a messy eater, though. catnip everywhere!"

relief flooded your system, momentarily drowning out the rising tide of amusement. "beomgyu," you said, trying to keep a straight face, "our cat is not our child."

beomgyu's smile faltered slightly. "cat?"

you burst out laughing, the tension dissolving. beomgyu, ever the endearingly dramatic soul, looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.

"don't worry," you reassured him, wiping a tear from your eye. "just imagine the headlines tomorrow: 'txt's beomgyu secretly has a love child!' the internet will melt down."

beomgyu groaned, burying his face in a cushion. "this is why i shouldn't do interviews without my members."

the next few hours were a whirlwind of laughter, exasperation, and panicked scrolling through social media. the internet, as you predicted, had gone into meltdown mode. fan theories ranged from a secret marriage to a hidden child Beomgyu had somehow kept under wraps.

when things settled down, a new hashtag, "#BeomgyuIsADad," was trending worldwide. you and beomgyu, snuggled on the couch with a very confused-looking miso curled up between you, couldn't help but laugh.

as beomgyu sleepily mumbled apologies into your hair, you knew this was just another story to add to your collection of endearingly chaotic beomgyu memories.

© 2024 seoulzie