#These are the fucked up times in which we live...

[thebibliosphere]

My dad was a bit of a tearaway growing up. He still would be if it weren't for the advancing arthritis and my mother holding him back by his shirt collar for the last 50 years.

They both grew up in the slums of post-WW2 Glasgow. My mother talks about living in damp, mold-ridden basement flats and her mother owning multiple cats to keep down on the rats, while my father likes to recount how he grew up every night looking at the stars... through the hole in the roof.

He was also best friends with my mother's brother, which was how they met at the tender ages of 9 and 11 and got married ten years later. But before that, my dad was in a gang. They'd cut about the back streets with skinned knees, hand-me-down bikes rattling over cobblestone streets away from the polis. Mucky boots full of holes thudding over the tin roofs of the outhouses as they hopped the walls to avoid getting caught smoking—a habit my father laments he picked up at age 11 and has never been able to shake.

One time, in his mid-teens, my dad saw another boy getting the shit kicked out of him. Not an unusual site in that part of Glasgow back then, especially when the football was on and the bars spilled out into the streets with the drunken malevolence of festering religious bigotry that still, sadly, prevails to this day. But this was no honest scuffle. This was five to one, ten to one, depending on Dad's mood when he tells the story. And for all he was a scruffy wee toe rag who was no better than he ought to be, my dad had a firm sense of fairness, and the fight in front of him was not fair. So he jumped in and started battering the fuck out of people.

It's worth noting that my dad and I share many traits. Our humor, our love of words, and most notably, our height. My dad is 5ft 2 on a good day, 5'3" at a literal stretch. It earned him the nickname "wee barra," a name that's stuck to this day, even as my father shrinks with age and begins to resemble a Norman Rockwell-esque grandpa: silver-haired, red-faced with a smile that makes you think of Christmas.

Anyway, turns out the boy he rescued was the son of a reasonably well-known crime lord. The kind of mad cunt who'd give you a Glasgow Smile if you cut in front of him at the post office but who also donated to charity, loved his kids, and could be very kind and generous to a boy in over his head who saw an unfair fight and moved in to break it up.

I wouldn't say they became friends. More acquaintances you could nod at in the street. And when the time came for my dad to get down on bended knee and ask my Mum to marry him, that passing familiarity meant they got a discounted price at a local pub venue to host the wedding festivities. All proper posh and swanky. Or as posh and proper as a pub in the 70s could be.

Sadly, in the literal weeks running up to their wedding, my Mum's father grew sick and died. Lung cancer. It'd been eating away at him for years, and nobody knew. So while my mother sat by her father's deathbed, nursing him to the end, my father had to reschedule their wedding and help plan for a funeral instead. It was with no small trepidation he showed up at the pub and was led into a back room to say, "er, very sorry, but, er, we won't be going ahead with the wedding, er, would you mind waiting for the rest of your money... please?"

And this crime lord, this terrifying figure of a man, humphed and grumped and said, "very sorry to hear that, lad. Did things just not work out?"

So my dad explained about his future father-in-law, the funeral, and needing to help look after his future mother-in-law, and he recounts how the room got very still and quiet, and after a pause, this monster of a man renowned for violence turned toward the safe behind him, reached in and pulled out an envelope—the one my father had written "wedding deposit" on—and handed it back to him.

"Away and take care of your family, son," was apparently all he said, and my dad, clutching the envelope to his chest, nodded, said thank you about a million times, then legged it out the door.

I remember thinking the first time I heard this story, probably about the age of 9 or 10, still fully entrenched in the moral parables being taught to me every Sunday in a dusty church basement, that there was some higher moral to impart. Like how even the most monstrous of men could be capable of kindness and good and redemption. Upon voicing this, my dad laughed so hard that he inhaled his cigarette.

"Christ, no. Don't be daft," he said, between hacking coughs. "The lesson is don't owe money to the fucking mafia."

Anyway, that's the man who taught me right from wrong and how to read, write, and tell stories. It should probably help explain some things.

And today, we found out the cigarettes finally caught up with him. Lung cancer. We don't know what stage yet. He says he can breathe just fine, which is funny because I feel like I'm suffocating.

I don't know what to do.

But at least I don't need to tell a crime lord I can't pay him the rest of his money. Small mercies.

[cheftsunoda]

it’s only been 2 days but it feels like a lifetime, i simply can’t stay away.

ollie bearman x antonelli! law student! reader

ollie and kimi’s list of crimes grows by the week it seems and that has moved me so now we’re here. It just makes sense that kimis older sister is a law student who falls for oliver “can’t stop confessing to crimes” bearman.

i’m gonna have to start a notes app of the ideas i have for you, i’m starting to lose track.

(also i changed my picture, tell me im pretty (despite the obvious lack of mascara))

love you❤️

in the name of the law — ob87

smau + blurbs

ollie bearman x !law student antonelli reader

kimi antonelli x !sister reader

being kimi antonelli’s older sister was always a full time job. add law school and two races a month into the mix? you are stuck somewhere between impossible and unhinged. but kimi was in his rookie F1 season, hopelessly attached to you, and you had structured your third year of law school to be mostly remote — which meant that you were always in that monaco apartment. and then there was ollie. oliver bearman— kimi’s best friend, haas’ new golden boy, and human liability. he had a talent for racking up speeding tickets in different countries, for accidentally live streaming things that should’ve stayed private, and for looking at you like you are the only person in the paddock that mattered. you tried to focus on torts and case law, on keeping your little brother grounded in the most high pressure season of his life, but ollie kept showing up — in the kitchen, on your phone, in your head. somehow, between championship points and legal deadlines, you were falling for the one man who couldn’t stop confessing to crimes.

fc : ashton wood

(a/n) : omg hey my angellllll<3 you look absolutely stunning like i would marry you rn on the spot. like soooooo fucking good. barking. growling. on my knees. PICK ME PLEASE. and i get so sad if you’re not in my inbox for more than like two days… im just like does she not love me no more??? where is my WIFEEE?? but i love u sm and this idea was so cute and i had so much fun.

also i saw an interview where ollie said kimi was moving in with him after he graduates so i made that a thing in this fic so yayyyy:)

—

yn_antonelli

liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, franciscagomes and 725,075 others.

yn_antonelli : officially back in monaco and i have two things to say. 1. i am in love with simba gasly 2. this picture of maggie refusing to let me go at the airport is precious and will forever be etched the back of my brain. that is all. goodnight x

tagged : kimi.antonelli and babickovaeli

—

view 87,005 other comments.

pierregasly : the real question is when are you babysitting again bc he cried as soon as you left

liked by yn_antonelli and franciscagomes

↳ yn_antonelli : do NOT tell me that. i will dognap him rn 😭

liked by pierregasly and franciscagomes

↳ franciscagomes : pretty sure he likes you more than us anyways🤷🏻‍♀️

liked by yn_antonelli

babickovaeli : i missed you so so much! we def need to go out again and make kimi pay 😌

liked by yn_antonelli and kimi.antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : i missed you even more 😚 dinner and drinks taste much better on kimi’s card.

liked by babickovaeli and kimi.antonelli

↳ kimi.antonelli : isn’t the older sibling supposed to pay for everything?

↳ yn_antonelli : 🍅🍅

↳ yn_antonelli : the older sibling in this case is broke from law school and flying around the world to comfort her little brother.

liked by babickovaeli and kimi.antonelli

↳ kimi.antonelli : fair. take my card anytime you want

liked by yn_antonelli and babickovaeli

kimi.antonelli : mia bella sorella, sono così felice di riaverti. (my beautiful sister, so happy to have you back.)

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : what do you want

↳ yn_antonelli : you are only nice like this when you want something

liked by kimi.antonelli

↳ kimi.antonelli : not true. SLANDER.

↳ yn_antonelli : you are using that wrong.

↳ yn_antonelli : anyways. get to it. what do you want?

↳ kimi.antonelli : just really grateful to have such a supportive sister (i need you to make sure what im signing is legit)

↳ yn_antonelli : there it is. be home soon.

↳ kimi.antonelli : also maggie never looked that happy to see me.

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : u just aren’t the fave

↳ username000 : the antonelli sibs are so special to me

maxverstappen1 : Glad you are back. Kimi has been rude since you left.

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : andrea. is this true?

↳ lando : oh she first named you bro.

↳ kimi.antonelli : MAX!!!! stop. yn he is just trying to get me in trouble. i have been an angel the entire time.

liked by yn_antonelli, maxverstappen1 and lando

↳ kimi.antonelli : slander. AGAIN. i need a lawyer.

↳ yn_antonelli : cannot be part of this case as it is conflict of interest srry

liked by maxverstappen1 and lando

olliebearman : you say goodnight and then proceed to send me 17 simba pictures

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : unappreciative 🤧 never texting you ever again

liked by olliebearman

↳ olliebearman : noooooo yn. i didn’t mean it!! how can i ever make it up to you??? 🧎‍♂️

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : send me a shirtless selfie xx

liked by olliebearman

↳ kimi.antonelli : OLLIE DO NOT. YN BAD. NO.

liked by olliebearman, yn_antonelli, and lando

↳ olliebearman : too late

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : licking my phone screen rn

liked by olliebearman

↳ kimi.antonelli : ugh gross 🤮

—

You barely get the door open before Kimi’s voice rings out from somewhere inside the apartment.

“Took you long enough. Did you adopt Simba or something?”

You laugh, toeing off your sneakers and dropping your bag near the couch. “Honestly? I wouldn’t have said no. That dog has better manners than you.”

Kimi pokes his head out of the kitchen with a dramatic eye roll. “He also tried to eat my sock last time I visited. We’re not pretending he’s innocent.”

You make your way into the kitchen, still sun-kissed from your weekend at Pierre and Kika’s place. “Okay but he is the love of my life. It’s Simba’s world and we’re all just living in it.”

Kimi snorts. “God help us all.”

You pull open the fridge, immediately grimacing. “Why is there nothing in here except Gatorade, one sad orange, and what looks like leftover fries in a coffee filter?”

“That’s Ollie’s attempt at dinner,” Kimi says, wandering in behind you. “He said he was ‘too tired use a plate’ like that explains anything.”

“You both need supervision.”

“Yeah, well,” Kimi shrugs. “That’s why you’re here.”

Right on cue, the front door opens and Ollie strolls in, kicking it shut behind him. He’s still in his team polo, curls slightly windswept, a grin spreading across his face the second he spots you.

“Well, well, well,” he says. “Monaco just got a little prettier.”

You shoot him a look, trying not to smile. “Did you practice that?”

“Nope,” he says, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. “You just have that effect on me.”

Kimi groans. Loudly. “Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m just being polite,” Ollie says, walking into the kitchen. “Besides, I haven’t seen her in, what, three days? I think that earns me at least one compliment.”

“She doesn’t want your compliments,” Kimi mutters.

“I actually don’t mind them,” you say casually, pulling out a glass.

Kimi nearly chokes on air. “You’re both dead to me.”

Ollie leans against the counter next to you, close enough that you feel his shoulder brush yours. “So how was Simba? Did he try to come home with you?”

You grin. “Almost. Kika caught him trying to sneak into my suitcase.”

“Smart dog,” he says, then adds under his breath, “Same strategy I was gonna try.”

Kimi flings a kitchen towel at his face. “NO. No flirting with my sister! That is a rule. A written rule!”

“I’ve never seen this in writing,” Ollie grins, pulling the towel off his head.

“Do I need to draft a contract?” Kimi snaps.

“Boys,” you say, sipping your water with mock serenity, “I’ve literally passed two tort exams this week. I could sue both of you for emotional distress and win.”

Ollie leans in a little closer. “I’d represent myself. Just to sit across from you in court.”

Kimi makes a strangled noise. “I’m moving out. I’m going to Max’s.”

“Go ahead,” you and Ollie say in unison.

Kimi turns on his heel and disappears down the hallway, muttering about betrayal and restraining orders. You glance at Ollie, who’s still watching you with a soft, smug smile.

“Welcome home,” he says, a little quieter this time.

You shake your head, fighting the blush. “Shut up.”

But you’re smiling too.

—

The sun is high, the Mediterranean is sparkling in the distance, and your torts textbook is open in front of you, pages fluttering slightly in the breeze. You’ve managed two whole hours of peace — no noise, no distractions, just iced coffee, highlighters, and the faint hum of waves below. For once, it feels like law school might not destroy you. Naturally, the universe doesn’t let that last.

“OI, PROFESSOR,” Kimi’s voice echoes from inside the apartment. “DO WE GET EXTRA CREDIT IF WE BRING SNACKS?”

You don’t even look up. “Not if they’re flaming hot Cheetos again.”

A beat.

“What if it’s Oreos?” Ollie asks, suddenly appearing beside you with a grin and a very suspicious looking plate of cookies.

You blink at him. “You didn’t make these, did you?”

“I assembled them,” he offers proudly.

“You stacked them, didn’t you?”

“Triple decker,” he confirms.

Kimi barrels onto the balcony a second later with a half-full Gatorade and no sense of spatial awareness. “Move your highlighters. I need space.”

“You’re not studying,” you say flatly.

“I’m auditing.”

“This is not a seminar.”

“Yet.”

You sigh and scoot your books over slightly to make room, though it feels more like you’re giving your sanity away inch by inch.

Ollie plops down beside you, his knee bumping yours like it’s muscle memory. He rests his chin in his hand and squints at your open notes. “Okay, explain this bit to me. What’s ‘negligence per se’?”

You pause. “It’s when someone breaks a law that’s specifically meant to prevent the kind of harm that occurred. So the violation itself proves negligence.”

Ollie nods solemnly. “Right, like when Kimi—”

“Don’t.” Kimi warns.

“No, no, I need this for context,” you say, half-laughing, half-afraid. “What did he do?”

Ollie leans in, voice lowered like he’s telling you a secret. “Okay so last winter, Kimi tried to ‘drift’ a golf cart through a snow-covered paddock in Austria—”

“OLLIE.”

“—and he may have taken out a VIP lounge tent.”

“It was poorly placed!” Kimi argues, flailing one hand while sipping Gatorade with the other.

You stare at them. “That’s—okay, yeah, that’s textbook negligence. Possibly even reckless endangerment. You’re lucky no one sued.”

Kimi pouts. “You say that like it wasn’t sick.”

“It was impressively dumb,” you reply. “Which is different.”

Ollie grins, shameless. “Okay, what about unauthorized use of a vehicle?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why are you asking that?”

“No reason.”

“Ollie.”

“Well—hypothetically,” he says, drawing the word out, “if someone borrowed a security buggy in Baku because they were late for curfew—”

“OH MY GOD.”

“—and accidentally drove it onto pit lane—”

“KIMI,” you hiss, looking at your brother, who’s pointedly not making eye contact.

Kimi shrugs. “It was dark.”

“You two are a liability.”

“We’re a team,” Ollie corrects. “A chaotic, well-fed team.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am going to need my own legal insurance policy just knowing you two.”

Ollie leans closer, nudging your elbow until you peek at him through your fingers.

“If you ever get tired of civil law,” he says with a smirk, “you could always defend me full-time. I promise to make it worth your while.”

You stare. “Are you flirting while listing things I could put you in prison for?”

“Gotta keep you engaged,” he says innocently. “This is interactive learning.”

“Interactive insanity.”

Kimi snorts. “I should charge tuition just for having to listen to this.”

“Or therapy,” you mutter, scribbling unauthorized vehicle use into the margin of your notebook.

Ollie leans back in his chair, stealing one of your sticky notes and doodling a heart on it.

“C’mon, counselor,” he says with a lazy grin, “you love us.”

You roll your eyes. “I deal with knowing you.”

“Same thing,” Kimi mumbles around an Oreo.

You look between the two of them — one covered in cookie crumbs, the other still grinning like he’s the protagonist in a romcom. Your study session is in shambles, your textbook is now decorated with cartoon smiley faces, and you’re weirdly okay with all of it. Against your better judgment, you smile. “God help me.”

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Kimi Antonelli went on a podcast and casually admitted to credit card fraud because he and ollie bearman “stole Ollie’s trainers credit card and bought a ton of stuff” — and his sister, who is literally in law school, interrupted the interview just to say, “As Kimi’s legal counsel, I strongly advise him to shut the fuck up.” no like this family is unhinged 😭😭😭😭

view 75,025 other replies.

username00 : i need to hear ollie’s side of the story rn

username0 : yn is so iconic. she was just there scolding kimi and those interviewers were dying laughing.

username1 : not kimi casually stealing a card and calling it “a misunderstanding” 💀

username5 : no but imagine yn just trying to finish her reading and kimi’s like “is stealing really stealing if it was an accident?”

username7 : yn antonelli is only 3rd year law student and she is already getting a taste of the real world trying to defend ollie and her brother 😭

—

The living room is deceptively calm. You’re planted on the floor with your back against the couch, surrounded by an explosion of law textbooks, color coded notes, and the faint hum of lo-fi study music playing from your headphones. You’ve got a midterm next week, a case brief due tomorrow, and maybe three functioning brain cells left. Kimi, meanwhile, is perched at the kitchen counter behind you, deep into a Zoom podcast interview with his mic clipped to his hoodie and zero adult supervision.

You’re not paying attention. You should’ve been. “Yeah, so we did actually steal his credit card.”

Your head jerks up so fast you pull a muscle in your neck. “Ollie dared me to do it, and I figured, you know, he probably deserved it after that one gym session where he made me run stairs for 45 minutes. So I just… took it.”

You freeze, blinking at the wall like it’ll provide answers. “We ordered like… a beanbag, noise-cancelling headphones, five boxes of protein bars, a punching bag — which is still in the hallway, by the way — and I think we accidentally subscribed him to like a fruit of the month thing.”

You slam your torts textbook shut and turn around slowly.

“Kimi. What the actual hell did you just say?”

He half-glances at you over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“You just confessed. To intentional credit card fraud. On camera.”

One of the podcast hosts snorts. “Wait, is that your sister?”

Kimi lights up like he’s proud. “Yeah, that’s her! She’s in law school.”

You march straight into frame, highlighter still in hand, and give the camera your most professional death glare.

“Hi, yes, as Kimi’s legal counsel — and unfortunately, his sister — I would just like to advise Kimi to shut the fuck up.”

The podcast hosts lose it. One of them chokes on their drink. Another is wheezing.

Kimi grins. “She’s mad because I wouldn’t let her eat the protein bars.”

“I’m mad because you’re out here building a felony portfolio and dragging me down with you!”

From down the hall, Ollie calls out helpfully, “Don’t forget the disco light!”

“YOU ORDERED A DISCO LIGHT?!”

“I thought it would help morale!”

“Oh my god.”

You drag a hand down your face, muttering to yourself about future bar applications and how early is too early to start drinking.

“Kimi,” you say slowly, “you knew it wasn’t your card?”

“Yeah, obviously. His last name is literally on it.”

You stare at him. The hosts are still dying.

“I hate this family,” you mutter, storming off screen.

In the distance, you hear Ollie yell, “Wait, do you know where the disco light went?”

You yell back, “INTO THE EVIDENCE BIN. NEITHER OF YOU GET IT BACK.”

—

Kimi left an hour ago for some cardio session you’re 90% sure he’s going to complain about in thirty minutes. He’d barely made it to the elevator before turning back to shout, “Don’t let Ollie set anything on fire while I’m gone!”

You’d saluted. Ollie had bowed. Now, the sun is casting golden light through the windows, and the chaos has settled into something soft and warm. You’re curled up on the couch, laptop back open, textbook balanced on the armrest beside you, highlighter clutched loosely in one hand. Your coffee’s gone cold, but you’re too lazy to care. Ollie’s across from you at the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone, chewing idly on a granola bar. He’s unusually quiet, for once not throwing a stress ball or trying to balance a fork on his nose. You catch him sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

You raise an eyebrow. “You good?”

He pauses, like he’s debating something. Then he sets his phone down and stands up, wiping his hands on his hoodie like he’s nervous. Which is weird. Ollie is never nervous.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, walking over to you, “you know between your legal intervention and Kimi admitting to credit card fraud on both of our behalf…it’s been a chaotic day.”

You smirk. “That’s what happens when you two share a frontal lobe.”

He grins but doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he leans his hip against the back of the couch, voice soft now. “You’re always dealing with us, huh? Cleaning up our messes, reading law books while we’re over here planning our next felony.”

You tilt your head. “It’s not technically felony-level. Yet.”

“Still,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You do a lot. For Kimi. For me.”

You blink, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it does whenever he gets like this — a little too sincere, a little too close.

He hesitates, then finally blurts, “So I figured maybe it was time I took you out. On a real date.”

You freeze. “A real date?”

He nods, eyes on yours. “Yeah. Not a team dinner. Not a group movie night where Kimi insists on sitting between us like a human traffic cone. Just me and you. Somewhere nice.”

You blink again.

“You’re serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he says. “I even googled romantic restaurants in Monaco, which is something I thought only Charles would do. So that’s how committed I am.”

Your cheeks are warm. “Did you really?”

“I did,” he says proudly. “I also accidentally made a reservation under the name ‘Oliver Bearclaw’ because I was on voice text and sneezed halfway through.”

You laugh, pressing your hand over your mouth. “That’s so stupid.”

He grins. “Yeah, but you’re smiling. So I’m calling it a win.”

You look at him for a moment — all sunlit curls and hopeful eyes and way too much heart in his stupid little grin — and it hits you that he’s not just asking you on a date. He’s been falling for you this whole time. The flirting, the teasing, the way he always walks into a room and makes sure to say hi to you first — it wasn’t just a joke. It was real. And maybe… you’ve been falling, too. You set your laptop aside and stand up slowly, facing him.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Take me out, Bearclaw.”

His grin widens like the sun just came up.

“For real?”

“For real,” you nod. “But only if you promise not to commit any crimes between now and then.”

He places a hand over his heart. “No felonies, I swear.”

“Misdemeanors?”

“Minor ones.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile’s too wide to hide.

—

The restaurant is tucked away on a quiet corner near the Port, a place you’ve passed a hundred times but never stepped inside. It’s warm and golden inside, all low lighting and tall windows that overlook the water. The kind of place where time feels like it stretches and softens around the edges. And Ollie — Ollie is waiting at the table, sleeves rolled to his forearms, curls a little too fluffy, smile entirely too wide when he sees you walk in.

He stands up fast, almost knocking into the waiter. “You look—wow.”

You glance down at yourself, at the simple dress and slightly curled hair. “I look what?”

He pulls your chair out for you. “Like you’re about to sue me and steal my heart.”

You laugh as you sit down. “That was tragic. And kind of sweet.”

“Story of my life.”

Dinner is easy — conversation flowing like it always does, but softer somehow. You talk about school, about the things you hate studying, about how you once considered switching to marine biology after a breakdown in year one.

He talks about growing up on tracks, about how surreal it still feels to be in F1. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you know the weight it isn’t always gentle. You reach across the table and touch his hand when his voice gets quiet. He relaxes immediately under your fingers.

Dessert comes and he orders two spoons without even asking. “I’m not letting you eat crème brûlée alone. That’s a crime.”

“You would know.”

He smiles, but there’s a shift — something tender in his eyes, something quieter than the usual chaos he tosses around like confetti. After dinner, you walk along the marina. Monaco glows at night — golden lights reflected in the water, luxury yachts bobbing gently, laughter drifting from balconies. He keeps brushing against your shoulder like he’s testing fate. You stop near the railing, just where the dock curves out toward the sea.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, glancing up at him. “It was… really good.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

You smile. “I kind of figured. The flirting during my breakdowns was a giveaway.”

“I had to keep you entertained somehow. Also, I thought maybe you’d be impressed by my criminal record.”

You laugh, leaning into him. “It’s extensive. I might write a dissertation.”

“I’d be honored.”

He takes your hand then — slow, careful, like he’s waited exactly long enough to be sure. And when you look up at him, heart beating a little too fast, he leans in and kisses you. Soft, like a secret. Like a promise.

There’s nothing dramatic about it — no fireworks or cheers or music swelling behind you. Just his hand on your waist, the scent of the sea, and the feeling that maybe, finally, the chaos has led you somewhere you want to stay.

You pull back slightly, smiling against his lips. “So… what’s the verdict?”

He grins. “You’re definitely going to be the smartest person I’ve ever dated.”

“Yeah?”

“And the prettiest.”

Your face warms as you nudge him playfully. “God, Kimi’s gonna hate this.”

“Yeah,” Ollie laughs. “But I don’t really care.”

And neither do you.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Ollie Bearman went on the same podcast as Kimi Antonelli and not only CONFIRMED the credit card theft story — he added that he once “stole his trainer’s ID so he couldn’t leave the track and I wouldn’t have to do cooldown laps.” To which a poor and tired YN Antonelli yelled at him from behind the camera, “OLIVER. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. STOP. TALKING.” 

view 108,004 other replies.

username000 : someone needs to lock these men up and give yn a vacation + a bottle of wine

↳ yn_antonelli : i need it. pls. someone help.

username00 : they’re gonna get her disbarred before she even graduates

username1 : ollie’s smile when she scolded him?? he’s in love.

username5 : her legal career hasn’t even started and she’s already stuck doing crisis PR full time 😭

username7 : oh i love them all so much. give them to me.

—

The door is closed. Your laptop is open. The air conditioning is finally working. For the first time in 48 hours, you feel a tiny hint of peace. You’re curled up on the small couch in Ollie’s driver room, laptop buzzing and an absurdly large iced coffee next to you. There’s just enough WiFi to submit your assignment and watch a torts lecture on double speed. Across the room, Ollie is mid-interview with a podcast crew — his mic clipped to his race suit, feet kicked up on a stool, expression way too relaxed for someone with a camera in his face.

You’re only half-listening until you hear it.

“Yeah, the credit card thing was real.”

Your eyes snap up from your laptop.

The host laughs. “Wait, seriously? You and Kimi actually used your trainer’s card?”

Ollie just grins, dimples out, completely unbothered. “Oh yeah. We found it on the counter before a sim session and decided to test if it worked.”

Your highlighter slips out of your hand.

“It did,” he continues, like he’s talking about the weather. “So we just… kept using it.”

You sit up. “Oliver.”

“We didn’t buy anything crazy,” he says quickly. “Mostly snacks. Gym gear. A massage gun. I think Kimi ordered a beanbag chair. And like, maybe… matching hoodies?”

You slam your laptop shut. “Oliver.”

The host is laughing too hard to ask the next question. Another one goes, “That’s insane. What did your trainer say?”

“Oh, he was chill about it,” Ollie says, waving it off. “I gave the card back eventually. But that’s not even the worst thing I’ve done to him.”

Your head whips around. “Don’t—”

“There was this one time in Silverstone,” Ollie says, leaning back, “where I straight up stole his  ID.”

The room goes silent.

The hosts blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I took his ID and hid it in my glove box. He couldn’t leave the track because security wouldn’t let him through the gates.”

You stare at him in pure disbelief. “Why?”

He shrugs, totally unapologetic. “Because I didn’t want to do cooldown laps alone and he said he had somewhere to be. So I… created a situation.”

From your corner, you yell without even thinking.

“OLIVER. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. STOP. TALKING.”

He jumps slightly and turns toward you with a guilty smile. “Oh. Hi.”

You stand up slowly, hands on your hips. “You’re on a recorded podcast. And you just admitted to identity theft.”

“Technically it wasn’t identity theft,” he says innocently. “I didn’t use it. I just… blocked his escape.”

“That’s not better!”

One of the podcast hosts mutters, “This is better than Drive to Survive.”

You walk into frame, highlighter still in hand like a legal weapon. “Hi. Yes. As Oliver Bearman’s unofficial legal counsel and the only sane adult in his orbit, I would like to make a formal statement— he is no longer allowed to speak in public.”

The hosts are crying with laughter now.

Ollie beams at you. “She’s cute when she’s mad, isn’t she?”

You turn slowly toward the camera. “He’s lucky he’s cute or I’d be representing him from a holding cell.”

He winks. “Wouldn’t be the worst date we’ve had.”

You groan, turning away. “I’m going to sue you.”

“Good thing you’re already in law school.”

Behind the camera, someone whispers, “I think they’re in love.”

You grab your laptop and head toward the door before Ollie can start confessing to international crimes.

As you’re halfway out, you hear—

“Wait, can I tell them the story about the golf cart in Barcelona?”

“NO, YOU CANNOT.”

—

yn_antonelli

liked by olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, lando and 875,130 others.

yn_antonelli : since ollie and kimi insist on admitting their crimes in front of the whole world, i made them take me to brunch and used both of their cards at hermes as payment for my defense.

tagged : olliebearman and kimi.antonelli

—

view 89,000 other comments.

franciscagomes : brunch and birkins… you’ve got a bright future in negotiations mama

liked by yn_antonelli

oscarpiastri : So what I’m hearing is that you extorted your clients?

liked by kimi.antonelli and olliebearman

↳ yn_antonelli : actually mr. piastri, it is considered compensation for emotional damages.

liked by oscarpiastri and olliebearman

kimi.antonelli : STOP SPENDING ALL MY MONEY PLEASEEEE

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : stop confessing to crimes on live podcasts and maybe we can discuss a compromise

liked by olliebearman

↳ kimi.antonelli : honestly fair point tbh.

alexandrasaintmleux : your honor, she’s iconic. sigh.

liked by yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : omg omg i love uuuuu

isackhadjar : that is ollie’s hand. i am not stupid.

liked by olliebearman and yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : look at the big brains on sherlock hadjar.

liked by isackhadjar and olliebearman

↳ kimi.antonelli : wait what

—

The sun is shining, the water is glittering, and Kimi Antonelli looks like he hasn’t slept in 36 hours. Even though he just slept for 14. 

“Why am I here,” he grumbles, slumped in the backseat of the Uber with sunglasses that cover half his face. “I didn’t even confess that many crimes.”

“You admitted to credit card fraud and stealing a man’s identity in the span of twenty-four hours,” you say, scrolling through the brunch menu on your phone. “I deserve eggs. I deserve champagne. I deserve a Birkin.”

“You’re going to steal our money to buy a Birkin.”

“I defended you from public ridicule and potential legal investigation.”

“I don’t even like brunch,” he mutters. “Who eats breakfast at 11:30?”

“People who aren’t under investigation,” you snap.

Ollie, sitting beside you in the Uber, just laughs — far too amused by the whole situation. “I like brunch,” he says, looking down at you with that stupid grin. “Especially when you’re mad. You get all—bossy.”

You glance up, squinting. “Would you like to confess anything else while we’re en route to a public restaurant?”

“Not unless you’re charging me by the hour.”

Kimi groans dramatically. “I hate whatever the fuck this is.” 

—

You’re seated at an outdoor table with a sea view, sunglasses on, napkin in your lap, and a mimosa already in hand. Kimi looks like he’s about to throw himself into the ocean.

Ollie’s watching you over his menu, smirking. “You’re glowing today.”

“That’s what financial revenge and fresh pastries will do to a girl,” you hum.

The waiter returns with your first round of orders — coffee for Kimi, a breakfast burger for Ollie, and a small mountain of avocado toast and poached eggs for you.

“I hope you’re both ready to pay,” you say brightly, stabbing your fork into your toast. “Because I ordered three sides. Out of principle.”

Kimi doesn’t look up. “I’m telling Nonna you bullied me.”

“She’ll be proud I’m finally asserting myself.”

“Does she know you're about to max out my card at Hermès?”

“She would be proud.”

Ollie sips his orange juice, clearly enjoying this too much. “Honestly, watching you argue is kind of hot. Should I confess to tax evasion next?”

You pause, slowly turning toward him. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

He grins, unbothered. “You’d still make me pay for brunch first.”

You tilt your head. “Damn right I would.”

Kimi finally looks up from his phone. “Are you two together or are you just blackmailing him through brunch?”

You and Ollie both respond at the same time—

“None of your business.”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

You nearly choke on your mimosa.

Kimi slaps his credit card on the table. “I’m leaving. I’m paying. I want nothing to do with whatever this is.”

“But we haven’t ordered dessert yet,” you pout.

Kimi glares at you through his sunglasses. “I will throw you into the sea.”

“Please do,” Ollie says, smirking again. “I’ll jump in after her.”

“You’re both sick,” Kimi says, standing and muttering as he walks toward the cashier. “I’m moving out.”

You smile as the waiter returns with a tiny silver bell and a dessert menu.

“Round two?” Ollie asks, reaching for your hand under the table.

You squeeze his fingers. “You’re paying.”

He grins, boyish and hopeless. “Always.”

—

You had planned for Hermes after brunch as Kimi made a comment about how “law students don’t need nice bags” and Ollie laughed, and now here you are, standing outside the most intimidating boutique in all of Monaco — sunglasses on, mimosa still coursing through your veins, and absolutely unhinged on principle.

“YN,” Kimi says warily as the automatic glass doors open, “let’s talk.”

“No,” you say sweetly. “You committed crimes. Now I’m committing retail.”

Ollie follows you in like a golden retriever on a leash made of guilt and admiration. Kimi drags his feet like a hostage.

“Do you need a bag that costs more than your first years tuition?” Kimi hisses as the polished sales assistant greets you like you’re royalty.

“I need financial restitution,” you say calmly, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “And emotional closure.”

The assistant smiles. “Are we shopping for anything in particular today, madam?”

You gesture to Kimi and Ollie, both standing awkwardly behind you like they’re about to be publicly executed. “They’ll be paying.”

The woman beams.

“Excellent. Right this way.”

—

You’re standing in front of a full-length mirror with a black Birkin draped over your forearm. It looks obscene. It looks divine. It looks like justice.

Ollie’s perched on the velvet bench nearby, watching you with the kind of dumb, smitten look that says, I would rob a bank if she asked nicely.

“You like it?” he asks, tipping his head.

You raise a brow. “I love it.”

“Then it’s yours.”

Kimi, from the corner, nearly chokes on the sparkling water the assistant brought him. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“She loves it,” Ollie shrugs, pulling out his card. “She deserves it.”

“She bullied us into a brunch we didn’t want and is now financially blackmailing us in Hermès!”

You smirk as the assistant gently takes the bag from you to box it up.

“You’re the one who said ‘it wasn’t even a big deal’ after admitting to stealing a man’s identity on camera.”

“You didn’t represent me! You just yelled ‘shut the fuck up’ from behind the couch!”

“That was the defense! And it worked!”

Ollie, whispering to the cashier— “Would now be a bad time to mention I also used the trainer’s gym membership without asking?”

“KIMI. HE DID MORE. THAT MEANS I GET SHOES TOO.”

Kimi is now fully slumped into the armchair, sunglasses on, mouthing prayers to the ceiling.

The assistant hands you the receipt with a reverent smile and says, “We’ve added a small gift for your troubles.”

You nod graciously. “As you should.”

As you walk out, massive shopping bag in one hand and Ollie’s hand in the other, you turn back and call. 

“Thanks for brunch! Thanks for the bag! Try not to commit any more felonies this week!”

Kimi doesn’t respond. He’s already Googling how to block you from his bank account.

—

The apartment is quiet. Sunlight pours through the windows, casting golden light across the hardwood floors. For once, there’s no podcast playing, no shoes being thrown, no one dramatically announcing a new crime. Just you and Ollie in the kitchen.

You’re leaned against the counter, his hands on either side of your hips, your fingers tangled in the soft collar of his hoodie. He’s smiling against your mouth — all warm lips, soft touches, and stolen breaths like this has been a long time coming. Because it has.

“I really like you,” he murmurs, nudging your nose with his.

“Even though I made you pay for the Birkin?”

“Especially because you made me pay for the Birkin.”

You laugh, tugging him closer by his hoodie strings, just as he leans in again — lips brushing yours, his thumb ghosting along your neck. It’s soft, easy, a little reckless.

And then— The front door bursts open.

“WHY IS THERE A PARKING TICKET WITH MY NAME ON IT?!”

You and Ollie freeze mid-kiss like two teenagers caught making out by a high school principal. Except the principal is your younger brother and he’s holding a crumpled parking citation and an espresso.

“OH MY GOD,” Kimi screams. “ARE YOU—ARE YOU KISSING?!”

Ollie pulls back slowly. “Hey, mate—”

“NO. NO HEY MATE. WHAT IS THIS?!”

You blink. “…Kimi, we’ve been soft launching for a month.”

“I THOUGHT THAT WAS A BIT,” he shrieks, tossing the parking ticket into the air like confetti. “I thought you were gaslighting me!”

“We literally held hands in front of you—”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES.”

Ollie steps back with his hands up. “Look, we weren’t hiding it—”

“YOU,” Kimi snarls, pointing at him. “I LET YOU LIVE HERE. I LET YOU EAT MY CEREAL. I TRUSTED YOU.”

“To be fair, it’s my cereal, and my apartment.” Ollie mumbles. 

“IRRELEVANT.”

Kimi storms toward the kitchen, righteous fury in his socks. “Ollie, I swear to god, if you hurt her—if you so much as misplace a single hair on her law school head—I will run you over exactly 8 times.” 

“Okay,” Ollie says nervously, backing into the island. “That seems extreme—”

“You’re lucky you have dimples or I’d kill you right now.”

You step in between them, putting your hand on Kimi’s chest like a bodyguard. “Relax. He’s not hurting me.”

Kimi narrows his eyes. “Are you sure he didn’t put something in that mimosa?”

“Kimi.”

“I’m just asking!”

“I’m literally holding his hand.”

Ollie gives Kimi a little wave. “Hi.”

“I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS.”

You sigh, reaching over to grab the espresso out of his hand. “You need to calm down and hydrate before you combust.”

Kimi glares at both of you. “You owe me emotional damages. And a new box of cereal.”

Ollie shrugs. “Want me to buy you Hermès socks?”

“I DON’T WANT YOUR GUILT SOCKS.”

Kimi storms off to his room, slamming the door dramatically behind him. There’s a beat of silence. Then from inside his room,

“IF I HEAR KISSING SO HELP ME GOD—”

You burst out laughing and lean back into Ollie’s arms, grinning. “Well. That went well.”

Ollie kisses your temple. “Honestly, better than expected.”

—

olliebearman

liked by yn_antonelli, kimi.antonelli, lando and 1,810,001 others.

olliebearman : she loves me and my extensive list of crimes.

tagged : yn_antonelli

—

view 152,000 other comments.

yn_antonelli : this is legally admissible. delete immediately.

liked by olliebearman

↳ olliebearman : how romantic 🥰

liked by yn_antonelli

kimi.antonelli : I WILL BE PRESSING CHARGES. against both of you.

liked by yn_antonelli and olliebearman

↳ olliebearman : good luck. i have the best lawyer in the world.

liked by yn_antonelli and kimi.antonelli

georgerussell63 : something tells me the legal expert was not consulted prior to making this caption

liked by yn_antonelli and olliebearman

↳ yn_antonelli : def not but im used to it

estebanocon : ohhhh this is why kimi was pacing in front of the garage yesterday. happy for you both !! ❤️

liked by yn_antonelli and olliebearman

—

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, kimi.antonelli, yn_antonelli and 3,720,005 others.

redbullracing : @/yn_antonelli please come get your menace. he has been caught in the act again.

—

view 235,007 other comments.

yn_antonelli : he does not belong to me. i have never ever seen that man in my life. i wish him the best of luck.

liked by kimi.antonelli, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, olliebearman and lando

kimi.antonelli : I TOLD HIM TO STOP DOING THIS. TOO MANY CAMERAS.

↳ yn_antonelli : oh so you’ve done it too?

↳ kimi.antonelli : no…

↳ redbullracing : yes. check dm’s

↳ yn_antonelli : GOD DAMNIT ANDREA

liked by lando and maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri : He does this at Mclaren too. Took my smoothie out of my hands. Said absolutely nothing and walked out.

liked by yn_antonelli, kimi.antonelli, lando and olliebearman

charles_leclerc : he stole like 5 coconut waters from me in the matter of a month

liked by yn_antonelli, kimi.antonelli, olliebearman and lando

olliebearman : ALL OF THIS IS SLANDER. I DO NOT SPEAK UNTIL MY LEGAL COUNSEL IS PRESENT. YNNNNNNN!!!!

liked by kimi.antonelli, maxverstappen1, lando, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and yn_antonelli

↳ yn_antonelli : i do not know you. stop bothering me. i will get a restraining order if necessary

liked by kimi.antonelli, maxverstappen1, lando, oscarpiastri, olliebearman and charles_leclerc

—

[starlightkun]

soulbound ➺ j.sc [teaser]

➺ teaser word count: 1797 | full fic: 23.6k ➺ genre: two bodies one soul au, enemies to begrudging roomies to lovers, acquaintances of extreme inconvenience, fluff, humor, some hurt/comfort, there’s some moments with probably more horny energy than is warranted (sungchan and reader r always bickering/squaring up and sometimes it gets physical and everyone’s just like… uhm… that’s not how ppl fight y’all…), not actually a soulmate au bc even tho reader and sungchan technically do share a soul it’s not an inherently romantic thing in this world ➺ warnings: FLAWED CHARACTERS, reader and sungchan r both kinda mean to each other at the beginning (see first genre tag please) for sympathetic(?) but also not great reasons, reader does something knowing it will inflict physical pain on sungchan (i once again refer u to the first genre tag), descriptions of physical pain and injury, one scene with blood/needle/hospital depictions ➺ estimated release: saturday, july 5, 2025 3:00 p.m. eastern time

“I have a job interview tomorrow, by the way,” you stated from Sungchan’s passenger seat, eyes focused on the passing buildings. He had gone to the gym this morning—bright and fucking early as always—which meant that you unfortunately had to go as well, since his gym was just far enough away that if he went alone, the distance would start putting stress on your soul. Sometimes you walked on a treadmill, but usually you sat in a corner on your phone until he was done.

“First I’ve heard of it,” he snorted.

“It’s your day off, stop bitching.”

He rolled his eyes. “What time?”

“Two. You’ll have to dress professional.”

“Yeah, right. I’m not interviewing.”

“But if I have to have you walk in with me, you can’t look like a fucking slob,” you pointed out.

“I’ll just wait in the car. Where is it?”

“Inverness & Wildwood.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not going.”

“Yes, I am,” you insisted.

“No, you’re fucking not,” he retorted. “It’s the next city over.”

“I haven’t interviewed yet, I don’t know if I’d even get it.”

Sungchan pulled into his driveway, putting the car in park but not turning it off as he shot you a withering look, pointing to the house in front of him. “Y/N, we still live with our parents because we couldn’t agree on a dorm or apartment complex to move into in college.”

“So you’re going to force me to live with my parents for the rest of our lives?” You asked incredulously.

“You can’t force me to move somewhere!”

“I’m sorry I have career aspirations past the part-time job we got in high school!”

“You don’t even have to come to my job, but you’re expecting me to fucking move for yours!”

“I didn’t say that!” You were seeing red now. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

Sungchan, meanwhile, looked like he was about to rip his own hair out. “It’s in another city, how exactly do you expect to work there without me and also without us fucking dying?”

“This isn’t fucking fair!” You grabbed the door handle and got out of the car.

Sungchan turned the car off and got out too. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” You yelled, slammed the door shut, and stormed off towards your house.

“I know!” He called after you derisively.

Angry, hot tears burned your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you fumbled to unlock your front door. You slammed that door shut too in your fury, ignoring your dad’s ‘good morning’ as you ran upstairs to your bedroom. This was so fucking unfair. Your whole life you were going to be stuck to a fucking underachiever who was apparently content with keeping the both of you living with your parents forever, never pursuing any dreams or aspirations beyond working at the place that you’d worked at since you were sixteen. What did you do to deserve this?

The car ride to the gym in the next morning was silent. You had your headphones in before you opened the car door, not even bothering to give Sungchan a ‘good morning’ or listen for if he said it to you. You stared out the passenger window with your arms crossed over your chest for the entire drive, wordlessly unbuckling and getting out once you arrived. After his workout, you followed him outside and got back in the car. Except he didn’t reverse out of the parking spot.

Finally, you looked over at Sungchan to find his eyes already on you, fixing you with an expecting look. He motioned for you to take an earbud out. Rolling your eyes, you did so, then waited for him to say whatever he wanted.

“Silent treatment?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s not like we’re friends,” you huffed, moving to put your earbud back in.

“Hey, wait,” he stopped you. “I’m sorry about your interview, alright?”

“Whatever, just forget about it.”

Sungchan buckled in and reversed out of the parking spot. “Isn’t there another firm like that in town? By the mall? You could see if they’re—”

“I said forget it, okay?” You snapped.

He held one of his hands up in surrender, and you put your earbud back in.

With one final adjustment of your blazer, you left your room, hurrying through your house. Your parents were at work, thankfully. You locked the front door behind you and walked right by your car parked out front. Sungchan’s was in his driveway, and you quickly turned down the sidewalk away from his house.

Halfway through your subway ride, you felt a twinge in your head, and grabbed the ibuprofen you had in your purse. You knocked back a couple tablets to keep the pain at bay. Your fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on your knee as you watched the electronic sign for your stop. You were on your feet before the doors opened, rushing out ahead of the other passengers.

A knot formed in your stomach when you emerged from the subway station into daylight, and not from nerves. You swallowed down the nausea, grabbing a ginger chew from your purse and continuing on.

Smiling at the older gentleman who held the door open for you on his way out of the building, you entered Inverness & Wildwood right as a sharp pain started up in your chest. You breathed through it, approaching the receptionist with a calm façade. You gave her your name and interview time, then followed her directions to the restroom that you had asked for.

After locking yourself in a stall, you rooted through your purse for the other pill bottle you had in there, for emergencies. Unfortunately, there was nothing to fully prevent soulsickness—aside from constantly being near Sungchan—but souLOXin could dull the symptoms for a little while. Shaking one of the red and black capsules out into your palm, you made a mental note to put in a refill later; you had less than a handful left. You swallowed it right as you got a text.

[sungchan 👎🍅: where are you?]

You turned your phone on silent and put it in your purse along with the pill bottle.

By the end of the interview, the pain in your abdomen had returned, and you gritted your teeth as you stood up to bow to the three interviewers and thanked them for the opportunity. One informed you they would let you know by the end of the week, and showed you to the elevator. As soon as the doors had closed and you were alone, you let out a groan, clutching your stomach and leaning against the wall for support. You composed yourself again when a ding! rang and you were let out into the lobby once more. Pressing on through your throbbing headache, you rushed down the sidewalks back to the subway, desperately taking another couple of ibuprofen tablets.

Standing on the platform waiting for the next train, you continued to take deep breaths, digging your nails into your clammy palms to distract yourself. Finally, it arrived, and you forced your way in as the doors were still opening. Dropping down into a seat, you let your head fall back against the window behind you and your eyes flutter shut.

Your guts finally started unwinding and the pounding in your head started dulling as you approached your stop. When the announcement was made, you got up, trudging off behind a few other passengers. Halfway back to your house, you were no longer nauseous, you just felt like you were getting over a bad cold—essentially, like shit.

Sungchan’s car wasn’t in the driveway, which you noted in the back of your mind as you walked into your own home and straight up to your bedroom. You eventually checked your phone after getting into your pajamas and crawling into bed.

Four missed calls from Sungchan and a dozen texts total.

[sungchan 👎🍅: y/n]

[sungchan 👎🍅: hello??? i can see your car]

Two calls in a row.

[sungchan 👎🍅: where the fuck are you]

[sungchan 👎🍅: don’t tell me you went to that fucking interview anyway]

Another call.

[sungchan 👎🍅: omfg y/n pick up]

[sungchan 👎🍅: im being so fucking fr rn pick up]

Another call.

[sungchan 👎🍅: im going to kill you if we die rn]

[sungchan 👎🍅: get the fuck back home right now im not kidding]

[sungchan 👎🍅: what the hell is wrong with you]

[sungchan 👎🍅: i just took my last poppys but if ur not back before it wears off im coming to get u idc]

Poppy—the nickname for souLOXin due to the coloring of the capsules. Sungchan always ran out first, the effects wearing off sooner for him than you for as long as the two of you had been taking it. According to the limited studies that had been done, there was some indication that men may metabolize it quicker than women, and of course the fact that he was a gym rat presumably did nothing to help in that department.

[sungchan 👎🍅: if u don’t call me in the next ten minutes im going]

[sungchan 👎🍅: ur the fucking worst that’s it im omw to inverness & wildwood. if u see this and ur somewhere else CALL ME]

He sent that last text six minutes ago. With a sigh, you reluctantly hit the phone icon next to his contact. The first ring didn’t even finish before he picked up.

“Where the fuck are you?” He demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“Home,” you deadpanned. “You can come back.”

“God, you are fucking impossible!” The sounds of screeching tires and car horns were audible in the background. “You went to the interview, didn’t you?”

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see it.

He must have taken your silence as a yes. “Fucking—Was it worth it? Huh?!”

“We lived, stop being so dramatic,” you scoffed. “Big tough guy can’t survive a little stomachache?”

“This time it was a stomachache. And what if I didn’t have any poppys?”

“That would’ve been your fault,” you snorted. “I’m not your mommy, you need to keep up on your own meds. Go get a refill since you’re already out.”

“They’re supposed to be for emergencies, Y/N, not when you want to just—”

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you pulled it away from your ear to see that there was another call incoming. Just in time, too, you didn’t have it in you to get lectured by Sungchan right now.

“Sorry, I’m getting another call,” you interrupted whatever he was saying loudly, not even bothering to attempt to sound actually apologetic. “Bye!”

⤷ masterlist

TEASER TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[justslightlymental]

"All of them Goddamn" Saja Boys x Reader Part 2

ill be so honest guys I feel like I butchered the start but oh well! I don't know for sure how long in the actual movie it took for them to defeat them yada yada. But in this AU i'll just say it took like a few months. Anyway, this doesn't have smut in it, IM SORRY BRO OKAY. im lowkey thinking of making a part 3 cuz this shit ended weird ok. ALSO reader is pregnant, if u dont like that LEAVE. its not my fault bro had unsafe smeggs in part 1

also yes im working on my other requests about them, those will be full on smut trust :33333 -

IT had been weeks since our last encounter. And oh boy… I’ve had these terrible headaches, these terrible stomach aches. The many times I’ve had to dip out of rehearsals just to empty my stomach. My energy levels have gone down the drain. I thought about reasons for a very long time, I was perfectly fine before the “Saja Boys” fiasco at the bathhouse, and a week or so after I was fine. But the more I thought about that night the more I realised how irresponsible and lust driven all of us were. Literally all of them splattered my insides white and NONE of us had any kind of protection, oh my fucking god. “What if I'm pregnant. What if im carrying the child of a fucking demon.” I spoke to myself quietly, sitting in my bed, stressing the fuck out. It all made sense, and I honestly wish it didn’t. How am I supposed to bring this up to THEM? How am I supposed to explain my predicament to my bandmates?? To our manager?? I can’t just fucking go up to them like ‘Oh yeah.. By the way, I'M pregnant and the father must be one of the Saja boys. Hell no. We had enough trouble overall with losing our fans day by day to them, and figuring out a song to completely wipe the demons out and strengthen the Honmoon up for good. Wait… If we defeat the saja boys and actually succeed, what about this possible child I might be carrying?? I mean maybe I’m not pregnant- But with everything happening there is a 98% chance I am. If we kill them- my child- or well their child too will forever be fatherless OH GOD what if the baby dies too?? I have to take a test, like badly. “Hey, I'm going out!” I said to the girls after emerging from my room, dressed very casually. “Alright, be safe okay?” Rumi said back, before turning back to her movie.

“Oh! Can you bring back chicken noodles?? I’ve been craving them!” Zoey yelled out from the kitchen. “Will do, bye bye!” “Byeeee!” Mira said, not looking away from her book.

The evening breeze was chilly, the hoodie I wore could only do so much. Feeling the cold sweeping through the tiniest openings. I walked faster, wanting to get to the sweet warmth of the pharmacy, which shouldn’t be too far now. As I finally reached the store, immediately feeling relieved and speed walking to the intimacy section, looking through all the different tests. I kept my hood up, trying to stay as hidden as possible not wanting any scandals to happen.

”Would you like some help?” A kind pharmacist said from next to me, a smile on her face. ”Uhmm… Well, anything that's trustworthy..?” I answered awkwardly.

We had a lovely conversation, she was really easy to talk to. The average auntie, well at least she looked the age… Thankfully she did not recognize me, internally sighing in relief. As I finished shopping and walked out. I was immediately met with the cold and once again began my walk back home.

Though as I was walking it felt like I was being watched, the hairs on the back of my neck rising like I was spiderman. I tried to walk faster, taking different routes but in the end a sudden smoke appeared out of nowhere, scaring the ever living shit out of me. Currently I was in an alley too so his shit truly was not ideal.

”Well well well, look who it is.” A deep voice called out and I immediately recognized it.

”Jinu??!” I said shocked, clutching the bag into my chest.

”And don’t forget about us!” Another voice said and four more men appeared right next to Jinu.

Oh for fucks sake.

”I'm not in the mood.” I scoffed. 

Okay well between you and me I was very much in the mood but I also did not want them knowing about my… predicament.

”C'mon doll we all know that’s a lie.” Abby said, walking closer to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders.

”No really, please.. Just let me go.” I sighed, my emotions in overdrive. “What’s the matter?” Mystery asked, seemingly the only one with the social skills to actually pick up on my mood. “It’s nothing, just a bad day.” I quickly said, wanting to get out of this situation before my ‘possible’ secret gets revealed. “Why do you smell so good right now?” Romance spoke up, suddenly appearing right beside me, literally inhaling my scent. “Now that you mention I smell it too.” Baby said, eyeing me up and down. Oh shit, I literally forgot they are demons. Does this basically confirm my suspicions and fears? Can they smell the change in my hormones or some shit? That's lowkey creepy, but whatever. “Just let me go.” I said once again, walking past them. Obviously they wouldn’t let me go that easily, hearing their footsteps behind me. I was seriously fed up. “You’re hiding something aren’t you? Maybe in that bag of yours?” Jinu caught up with me, tilting his head in a mocking way. “Did you pick up some toys to use incase we all met up again?” Abby joked, others giggling with him.

I chose to ignore them, as much as I honestly wanted to get down on the floor and get absolutely ravished by all of them. Getting home and doing this test and then crying my eyes out was much more favorable.  Though I don’t think they took me ignoring them very well, the next thing I knew they had stopped in their tracks, making me turn around, their faces rid of any humor or smiles. “Fine if you’re going to act like a brat. Don’t bother crawling back to us begging for more.” Jinu scoffed, all of them agreeing with him. “The entitlement is crazy!! See if i fucking care!” I yelled out, baffled at how these men… No these DEMONS were acting. No other words were exchanged as I turned on my heel and practically ran off, holding in the tears. This is how everything was supposed to go. Obviously they wouldn’t hold any emotional attachment to me, what was I expecting? A nice dinner date in the city's most luxurious 5 star restaurant?? They are demons for fucks sake, their whole thing is to just lure people in and then eat their souls. But why did it hurt so much? It’s not like they actually took advantage of me or anything, I gave them my full consent and was reckless. And now I'm paying the price for one night of pleasure. I thought, staring at the 3 positive tests in my hand. Makeup already ruined, eyeliner mushed around my cheeks, tears still flowing down freely. My emotions were all over the place, It wasn’t on my plans to become a young mother to a fucking half demon baby. Yet despite all of that I couldn’t help but already feel attached. This child was innocent, who am I to blame it for being conceived by my own foolish desires and actions. I had decided, no matter how foolish or bad, I was keeping this baby and that’s final. The next few weeks were awful, between the writing, composing of songs and rehearsals not to mention rivaling against Saja boys. AND struggling with the amazing side effects of pregnancy, thankfully I wasn’t showing yet, so I could still use our performance outfits no matter how flashy or tight they were. Things had been going south though. The Honmoon was weakening due to our lack of progress, demons appearing left and right. Fans leaving and going for Saja boys. They were practically everywhere, we were being overthrown quickly.

“Alright girls! I know everythings all ‘saja’ ‘saja’. But we are going to turn it into ‘Huntrix!’ ‘Huntrix!’ alright?” Bobby said with a smile placing a bunch of posters in front of us at our table. “There’s a bunch of fans outside who literally SLEPT on the sidewalk just to see you. “Happy fans… Happy Honmoon!” We all looked at each other and clicked our pens together, sitting at our fan event table. And so the fans bursted in and so did 5 random… sleeping bag things..? “And who do I owe this to?” Rumi asked with a smile, going to pick up a poster to sign it. “To your biggest fans…” The male said, they all revealed themselves as Saja boys. Oh for FUCKS sake. All of the attendees went crazy yelling out their band name. “Oh Saja boys It’s an honor! Table please!” Bobby said, as they brought a table down for the boys. “Joint meeting??” Half of the people lined up for us moved to the boys table. We looked at each other baffled, Rumi staying silent for a moment before standing up and announcing the boys would be seated with us and the people immediately lined back up. “WHAT?!” All of us whisper yelled.

“We need all the fans we can get…” Rumi said, sitting back down in her seat. I was now forced to sit between Baby and Jinu. Neither of them didn’t seem to pay attention to me, but I could feel glances my way ever so often. Forced to listen to them shamelessly flirting with my bandmates, forced to sit in absolute misery and worst of all.. Forced to suffer my raging hormones, oh god they smelled so good. The fan event started off good, signing posters and albums, having short chats with the fans, doing cute stuff yada yada. I was doing a pretty good job with ignoring the boys, no matter how much I wanted to oogle at them. Jinu made it very clear they don’t want anything to do with me anymore. “Hello! I hope you’re doing alright!” I smiled sweetly at the next fan in front of me, a guy my age I assumed. “Oh my god!! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” He beamed with happiness, taking my hands in his. Oookayy.. could’ve asked for permission first but i’ll let it slide… Happy fans.. Happy Honmoon I reminded myself. “I can’t believe I'm meeting you! Thank you for supporting us!” I smiled back, a little forced. “I’ve been a fan since the first day, you’re my favorite! I love you so much!” He continued, moving closer to me. “I appreciate that!” I cringed internally at how close he was getting. “Would you like me to sign anything?” The fanboy gasped letting go of my hands to dig into his bag, probably for an album. I couldn’t help but notice from the corner of my eye how Jinu had turned his head towards us both, watching the interaction clearly not amused. It was then when I felt a hand land on my thigh, inching ever so closer to my core. My eyes widened for a moment before I calmed myself down, acting normal for the fan. “Please sign my album!” He asked, handing it to me and so I did.

“You’re so amazing!!! Pleaseee marry me!” The guy said, lowkey freaking me out now. This also caught the attention of my bandmates but also all of the Saja Boys. And if looks could kill this fellow would be buried deep within the earth's core. I forced an awkward smile, trying not to yell at this guy, not wanting to scare any of the other fans who might I add also started watching the interaction. “Hahaha- Thank you- umm I’m sorry but-” Before I could continue a hand slammed in front of me, making me flinch. “I think it’s time you move on.” It was Jinu and he was pissed, in fact they all were pissed I could feel the atmosphere changing. Everyone was dead quiet, the guy looked like he would piss his pants at any moment, before quickly snatching the poster and fleeing the whole event. It was pretty fucking awkward after that but it wasn’t long until things seemed to return to normal. “Thank you…” I muttered to Jinu, not sparing a glance. He didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, another squeeze to my thigh was all I needed. Maybe everything was not lost between us after all, maybe he did care, maybe they all did. They just didn’t know how to express themselves… I don’t know, maybe I’m just delusional holding onto the smallest thread of hope. One thing is for sure though, I need to let them know.  After the fan event fiasco I was sitting in my dressing room, just staring into the mirror. The frown on my face was evident as a hand rested on my stomach. The thoughts in my head racing, I was so conflicted. Everytime I saw one of the guys I felt weak in my legs, my heart thumped against my chest, and I just felt… weird. Was I really falling in love?

And how would that end huh…

I was suddenly pulled away by my thoughts due to my door opening, in walked all of them. Without an invitation of course!! We just stared at each other without saying a word, the air heavy around us. I don’t know for how long we just stood there in silence, but it felt like our eyes were having the conversation for us entirely.

“Why did you come here.” I asked bluntly.

“To check up on you, are we not allowed to care?” Jinu asked with a frown, hands folded in front of his chest. I let out an amused scoff, looking away from them, gathering my words. “That’s rich coming from you. From all of you.” I said a hint of venom in my tone. “From what I gathered last time we happened to bump into each other you all were only after ONE thing. Sex. It’s very funny suddenly seeing you ‘care’, or being interested in how I'm doing. Hey it’s okay though! It was a really nice one night stand, I can't believe I expected more.” It felt relieving to finally get my feelings out, really it did. “What? Got nothing to say? Because I was right?” I asked, staring at their faces, all of them seemed to avoid eye contact, nervous almost. “It’s.. not that… I just- We’ll we just… The truth is-” Jinu tried but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. “We all like you!” Baby Saja yelled out. “We didn’t know how to tell you, or how to find you..” Romance continued, scratching the back of his head. “I guess the moment we saw you again.. Asking for that was like.. a way to try and forget..” Abby said, his face red. “We thought you would never like us back.. Since you know… we are demons.” Mystery quietly said Honestly their confession shocked me, you mean there’s actually hope?? They actually have feelings?? No fucking way. It almost brought me to tears, fucking hormones. “I- I’m shocked… Truth is after our ‘thing’ I couldn’t stop thinking about you all…” I mumbled, all of their heads snapped towards me. “It was torture trying to sleep that night…” I giggled quietly, remembering. “You drive us crazy… And today seeing that boy touch you… It made us mad, it's weird.. It feels like an instinct, to protect you from everything and anything…” Jinu said, others agreeing. “I feel like I need to be close to you… at all times, something is pulling me in.” Baby said, walking closer to me. All of them followed, I backed towards the counter where all my makeup was laid. I stared up at them, all of a sudden remembering the last time and immediately felt like my panties had just been dipped into water.  “I want to be close to you all too…” I said, eyes never leaving theirs. Suddenly nothing else mattered, all I wanted was to have a taste of them again, to feel them touch me, mark me, claim me. Jinu’s hands landed on my shoulders, he leaned in slowly, our lips connecting in a sweet kiss. It wasn’t messy like before, but instead a passionate one. As we separated he looked me deep in the eyes, his hand caressing my cheek. “I’m sorry about that day.” He said. “It’s okay…” None of us shared another word, but that was okay. Though I still felt terrible, as they all got close to me. I was keeping this secret from them, but I was afraid, so afraid. What would they think? What would everyone think? I didn’t want this moment to end in more unnecessary fighting and drama, I just wanted everyone to be happy. If it meant keeping and going through this by myself I would do it. 

Romance pressed his lips against my neck, his teeth just slightly gracing my skin. Baby on my other side, his hand caressing my arm, leaning against me, enjoying the warmth of my skin. Abby took Jinu’s place in front of me, kissing me deeply, pressing himself up against me. Softly moaning into his kiss, playfully fighting his tongue with my own. Mystery had taken Romance's side and was now running his fingers through my hair, kissing my cheek and neck. After a little bit more making out with them and touching each other up we separated, even if we didn’t want to. But time was not on our side, soon the girls would come looking for me and we would be busted big time. “We’ll see each other more right?” I asked hopefully, the fact is I felt myself not wanting to leave their side for even a moment. “Yes, definitely. It hurts us to be away from you darling.” Jinu said. “Let us mark you… be ours forever..” Abby asked, almost desperate. “Please, I need everyone to know you are mine and theirs.” Mystery said, his voice whiny. The rest agreed, and how could I say no to them? Even if my mind tried telling me no. For deep down in my heart I was afraid of all these feelings, what happens if we truly seal the Honmoon up for good? My heart would be broken beyond repair. “Yes.” In a flash their human forms disappeared, replaced by their demon counterparts. I used to loathe them, to hate them but now I feel like I preferred seeing their true selves. I felt even more connected to them. They placed their hands on my chest one by one, each time a mark flashed over my chest, a purple hue traveling along my veins down my arms before disappearing. Each time I felt a surge of emotions, feelings like a piece of their lost souls merged with mine. I'm sure they felt more alive, I could see this light in their eyes I had never seen before. “You are ours now and we.. are yours.” - YEA ILL MAKE A PART 3 MAYBE YEAH (i will)

[thealtoduck]

Photogenic | Peter Parker smut headcanons

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, camera kink (nudes, sextapes), unprotected sex, switch!Reader and Peter but mainly bottom!Reader and top!Peter…

Summary: You and Peter start experimenting with cameras during sex…

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• Peter had always liked taking pictures of you and filming you throughout the day. Even the more mundane stuff like when you’re cooking, reading, or when you sit on the washing machine waiting for it’s last 3 minutes to go by.

• It’s his own little way of capturing your beauty for himself. And with all the stress that came with being Spider-Man and his job at the daily bugle, it was also a way for him to relax.

• You embraced it and did your part as his model, glad to see him find a way to destress and not overwork himself.

• One evening Peter took a picture of you, as you began changing out of your clothes for bed. Maybe it was the lighting that had been just perfect, or the way he had captured you with you just after you took your shirt off, or maybe it was one of the settings on the camera.

• But he had taken his most beautiful picture of you yet. And it wasn’t just beautiful it was sexy. A type of photography he hadn’t really tried before. So he kept taking pictures of you as you undressed, then asked you to pose on the bed for him.

• The sight through the lense made Peter almost cum in his pants then and there. You on your back in the bed in only your underwear, glowing in the mix of the camera flash and the moonlight.

• After the last picture he basically pounced on top of you bringing you into a passionate kiss. As the two of you started getting intimate an idea popped into his head and he asked ”Can I take pictures of you when we…?”. He said starting to get shy towards the end of sentence, he felt like he was asking too much of you.

• ”We can try it” you agreed, feeling kinda curious about it yourself.

• That night he took pictures of you with his cock stuffed in your mouth, you on your back as he fingered you, you on all fours as Peter fucked you from behind, you flipped back over on your back so he can get your face and cock in frame.

• Then pictures you’d take of him as he thrusts in to you, of Peter’s sweaty face as he moans and the exact moment he orgasms. Then he’d take more pictures of you with cum all over your stomach and his own leaking out of your used hole.

• After that night the two of you loved the idea of taking more nude photos. Which led to much more casual nudity in the apartment. Taking photos cooking in ONLY an apron, photos chilling nude on the couch, photos as you showered together. And even some photos completely bare out on the fire escape.

• You both started sending each other nude photos regularly. Especially when you were apart. Peter could be at work at the daily bugle and suddenly get a notification that you sent him a photo, and it would be a picture of you naked, just out of the shower, wet glistening skin and your cock hard. With another little text under it saying ”Missing you <3”

• Later the two of you would experiment with filming yourselves during sex, making your own sextapes. The first time you set up a camera with a shot on the bed and let it film as you ate each other out, jerked each other off and as Peter fucked you missionary.

• Another night with you filming him as he sucked you off, rode your cock, fucking him doggy style as you slapped his perfect ass and then cumming inside him.

• And another night as he roughly took you on the living room couch, making you moan and call his name out loud on film, with him then getting you on your knees and cumming on your face.

• Also 2 hours worth of footage as you take turns blowing and fucking each other in the shower.

• Peter then remebered his powers and gadgets which led to several more hours of footage of him easily carrying you around as he pumps his thick cock into you, him fucking you as you are webbed to the bed, then you fucking him as he’s webbed to the bed. You riding him in a hammock made of his webs.

• Also including him literally helping you defy gravity by somehow managing to both carry and shove his cock inside you while also sticking to the wall of your bedroom.

• Only after having taken a full photography book’s worth of pictures and blockbuster movie’s worth of film (deleted scenes included) of you being fucked, came on and posing sexually all while dressed in Peter’s Spider Man suit did you both start to question if you weren’t taking you two’s new favorite hobby a bit too far…

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[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 8

A few months into her pregnancy, everything seemed normal. Save for the morning sickness, Natasha was her normal self. Until… “Oh my fuck, can you fucking breathe any louder?!” Baby looked at Natasha in shock as she glared at him. “Sorry babe, you ok?” He asked softly. “What kind of fucking question is that!? No! I'm not! You know what? Just get out! Go away!” She yelled then began to cry. “I'm so ugly! I'm fat! My head hurts!” Baby stood frozen in his place with his towel hanging lowly around his waist after getting out of the shower not long before this. “You're not fat babe. That's the baby growing inside of you.” He tried to reason.

“I'm not stupid!! I know that!! What you think I'm fucking dumb!? You fucking ass hole!!” Baby nearly flinched at how quickly Natasha switched up. Especially when her teeth began to sharpen and her eyes glowed. “I don't think you're stupid. You're our smart girl. Just relax and take a deep breath.” He replied while typing away on his phone. Quickly trying to text Jinu and the others to get home soon or better yet, immediately.

As soon as the doors to the elevator opened, the others watched as Baby stayed crouched behind the kitchen counter as Natasha laid on the couch crying heavily and rubbing her 4 month pregnant stomach. “Why don't you love me!?” She cried. “I do love you!! I don't love you throwing shit at me though!” Baby shouted back from behind the counter. “I-im sorry!! WAHHHHH” She cried more. “Ok… let's try and descalate the situation.” Jinu spoke before he and Mystery walked to Natasha and crouched to her level. “Love bug? What's wrong?” He asked as Mystery pressed sweet kisses to her tummy. “I-i don't know… everything feels weird. I'm happy one minute and angry or sad the next… I didn't mean to almost hurt Baby…” She replied softly.

“We're not worried about him. He's been through worse. We're more worried about how these mood swings are affecting you.” Jinu smiled softly and placed a warm hand on her stomach. Rubbing circles into her skin. “Don't worry Tasha, you only got what? Like 4 more months of this? Then you'll be a mom!” Abby grinned. “It's 5.” Romance corrected. “What?” The other man rolled his eyes. “She carries the baby for 9 months. Not 8.” Romance shook his head. “Damn,so it's just gonna keep getting bigger?” Abby gestured to Natasha's pregnant belly and having overheard his comment, she began to cry more. “What the fuck man?!” Mystery shouted, which was rare. “It was just a question!” Abby threw up his hands trying to defend himself.

That night, Natasha sighed in comfort as she shared a bath with Romance. Her back against his chest as his hands massaged her sore breasts. “Feel any better?” He asked softly as he pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “Mm yes… I needed this… thank you Romance.” Natasha yawned. “What do you think the baby will be like?” She then asked. “Hmmmm hopefully… nothing like us…” He whispered. Not having liked the life he lived before meeting Natasha. Being demons, he and the others committed heinous acts and lived an egregious lifestyle. As his human form slowly faded away, Romance placed his clawed hands on his mate's growing stomach.

“I want to be a good father… I don't want them to know anything about how we used to be. I want them to have a good life.” He mumbled. Placing her own clawed hand on top of his, Natasha smiled. “You will be a great father. All of you will.” The next day, as Natasha and Abby were out looking at cribs, a small group of fans recognized them. “Oh my gosh!! Look!” Sighing heavily, Abby braced himself to be swarmed with fan girls wanting pictures and autographs. However, he was practically shoved out the way in favor of Natasha. “My mom used to play your songs all the time! I grew up listening to your music!!” One girl squealed.

“My mom is not gonna believe I saw The Empress! Agh! Can I take a quick selfie?” Another asked. “Oh sure. I don't mind a few pictures.” Natasha smiled a soft motherly smile that made the fans feel warm inside. “My parents met at one of your concerts. My mom's favorite song of yours is "Irreplaceable.” Natasha grinned as another fan came in for a selfie. “Oh? I loved writing that song. It was a lot of fun.” Getting a bit irritated and watching the crowd get bigger, Abby slyly grabbed Natasha's hand to pull her out the store. Even then, the questions didn't stop.“When are you making new music?” “Please make new music soon?” “Why'd you leave the spotlight so soon?”

Guiding her out the store, Abby growled lowly seeing paparazzi already snapping pictures of them. “Oh my gosh she's pregnant! Is that man next to you the father?!” One asked. “Wait, that's Abby from the Saja Boys! Talk about a cougar. Rob the cradle much Natasha?” Someone rudely asked causing Abby to make a 360° turn. “Fucking excuse me?!” Grabbing his arm, Natasha shook her head. “There's too many cameras baby. Calm down. Let's go home.” She then rubbed her thumb on his muscular forearm in an attempt to calm him down. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and grabbed her hand gently. As he turned to lead her to their car, a photographer made another rude comment. “Hey Abby! Is her pussy tight or loose! You know, because she's way older than you so-”

He never got to finish his sentence because as soon as he made the comment, Abby decked him in the jaw once to knock him out. Then took the camera and threw it into the street, breaking it. “Piece of shit.” He growled as he stomped back to the car and slammed the door after getting in the driver's seat. Not bothering nor caring about the fans that witnessed what he had done. That night, his display of aggression was everywhere.

Chapter 9

[steddieas-shegoes]

drama

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'selling the drama'

rated t | 769 words | no cw | tags: band manager steve, friendship, established steddie

also on ao3

🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱

Gareth rolls onto his stomach and sighs.

Jeff does the same.

Eddie, somehow, is the one who calls them out.

“Are you guys done being dramatic?”

Frankie rolls his eyes, smirking at what he already knows is going to become a dramatic soliloquy from one or both of them. Eddie’s almost certainly going to join in despite the fact he called them out on the dramatics.

“Sorry for being bored, Edward!” Gareth exclaims. “Sorry that we cannot find any entertainment on this tour bus. I’m sorry you have to put up with us in this phase of our lives. How dare we feel boredom in your presence. How dare we not know what we want to do while stuck on this dreaded twelve hour drive. How-”

“How about you all play cards?” Steve suggests with a lollipop hanging from his mouth. He’s trying to quit smoking and so far only lollipops seem to be a good replacement. His lips and tongue are constantly red or blue and Eddie is constantly distracted. “I’ll move.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Eddie says, pulling Steve into his lap. Steve offers him his lollipop, but Eddie just kisses his lips instead. No one blinks an eye. It’s not even close to the grossest thing they’ve done in front of them. Frankie’s actually pretty sure they’ve fucked on the couch while they were all watching a movie. “I don’t wanna play cards. We did that yesterday.”

“Today’s a new day,” Frankie says as he gets up to get their deck of cards. They are technically due for another campaign night, but Eddie’s having trouble with some of the plot development and refuses to move forward until he figures it out. “We could play war or hearts?”

“Children’s games,” Jeff sighs. “We aren’t children.”

“You’re acting like children,” Steve says what Frankie’s thinking.

He used to hate that he had so much in common with Steve, especially when he started dating Eddie and he was around all the time. They didn’t get along for months until Frankie got his heart broken in a city he’d never been to before and Steve was the only one who didn’t make fun of him for being upset. He brought him to a 24 hour diner after their show while everyone else went to their hotel and they talked about expectations on the road and for the future. Now they make it a weekly thing, whenever they’re in a city that has a diner they can go to reasonably unnoticed, they do.

“Last time we played war, Eddie almost threw Gareth off the bus,” Jeff says.

Which is true, and probably why they shouldn’t play that game while in motion.

“Go Fish?” Steve suggests, still sucking on the lollipop.

Eddie’s watching him, mouth open, eyes glazed over. Gareth smacks him in the face.

“Focus dude,” he says. “Can we place bets?”

“On Go Fish?” Frankie asks.

“To make it more fun.”

He shares a look with Steve. They both know this is a terrible idea, but if it will end the dramatics of their boredom, it might be worth it.

“Fine. No booze or girls.” Steve points at Gareth to emphasize. “And that includes whatever underwear gets left behind during your little sexual exploration phase.”

“Whatever,” Gareth rolls his eyes. “Bet $10 I win the first round in three turns.”

“I’ll bet $20 I win in two,” Jeff pipes in.

“I’ll bet use of the big bed for one night I win in three right before Gareth would’ve gone out,” Eddie says.

Steve slaps him. “Don’t offer our bed.”

“Two nights in the big bed!” Eddie ignores him.

Frankie shakes his head. “One pack of cigs and my signed Metallica poster says I win in four rounds and you all get mad enough to stop playing.”

Steve high-fives him.

Frankie doesn’t even smoke, never has, never will, but they’ll all be miserable if Steve doesn’t get to sleep in his bed. Now no one will want to beat him. He’ll grab a pack from Steve’s secret emergency stash.

They end up being distracted by more absurd bets for the next two hours. Steve eventually loses interest and goes to find another lollipop and take a nap because his job starts the moment they arrive at the venue.

Well, technically his job never really stops, which is why he’s never really bored.

Frankie watches him walk back to his bed, closing the curtain behind him. It won’t mask much of the noise, but he won’t have to witness the dramatic slap fight happening between Gareth and Eddie with his eyes.

[antithetical-bolter]

Out Of The Woods (2)

Hiiii friends wow I am so glad so many of you are liking this story!! Here’s the big conversation, hope it does the story justice! There’s a touch of Robby POV in here which I will do occasionally but this will be mostly Iris POV.

5.9k words | Robby puts his foot in his mouth multiple times as Iris fills him in on their situation. Morning sickness makes her life a living hell.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, lots of talk of vomiting. excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes.

Tag list: @snowflames-world @antisocialfiore @eviemonroeer @princessjayll @sizzlingkryptonitetale @two-bitkit @dizzybee03 @knifetotheback

Page dividers: @cafekitsune

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I highly debate turning around and making him stew longer, but I know that’s just me wanting to delay the inevitable. Armed with my smoothie and a shit ton of spite, I tuck my phone into my running belt and walk towards my front door.

He’s sitting on the bottom step of my porch, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Clearly recently showered and no longer in scrubs - instead he’s wearing gray jogger sweatpants and a forest green crew neck sweatshirt. His hair is still damp, sticking up every which way like he’s been running his hands through it and his glasses sit perched on his forehead. As I step onto my property, his head shoots up.

Robby says nothing as I walk past him and unlock the door, doing my absolute best to not think about the way I can feel his eyes tracking my every movement. He stands up and comes to occupy the space behind me as the lock clicks and I swing open the door.

“I need to take a shower before we do this. You know where the couch is, I’ll come down when I’m done.” I can’t help being a little petty as I add, “I don’t want to keep you from wherever you need to be, so if you’re gone when I get out I won’t think anything of it.” He turns red from his ears to his neck at that last comment.

“I, uh, I can wait. Take as much time as you need.” He says a little sheepishly. Good. He deserves to be a little embarrassed by his behavior. I do not grant him a response, instead locking the door behind us and turning on my heel to trek upstairs and wash off my run.

A shower does make me feel a little more grounded. Not good, not ready for this conversation by any means, but less like throwing my fancy ceramic plates at his head. I rough dry my long, bright red hair and throw it into french braids to keep it out of the way. My contacts come out and I don my glasses, and I let myself do my entire five step skin care routine before facing the man currently sitting on my couch.

Eventually, though, I run out of reasons to keep him waiting. I snag my favorite pink fuzzy blanket off my bed and swing it around myself, covering the matching purple striped pajama shirt and shorts I have on. It’s chilly in Pittsburgh tonight but I’ll be damned if I’m not comfortable and wearing my favorite clothes for what will inevitably be one of the worst conversations I’ll ever have to have. I throw on some slippers and make my way downstairs, trying to be quiet.

Robby is sitting on my couch, taking up almost an entire third of it by himself. The green of his sweatshirt matches the couch cushions almost perfectly and I hate that my first thought is that he looks like he belongs here. He must have kicked off his shoes somewhere between now and then, as his bare feet sit on the leaf-themed rug covering the large majority of my living room floor. I let myself look at his face a little before clearing my throat to announce my presence.

Frankly, he looks like shit. His hair is even more mussed up after continually being disturbed by his fingers and I know him well enough to recognize the expression he’s wearing as his ‘I’m fucking drowning here’ face. I take a small amount of joy in seeing that he’s a little destroyed about the whole situation. That makes two of us.

He jerks his head up to look at me as he hears me come down and walk over to the couch to join him, sitting just about as far away as I can comfortably get. His left hand reaches towards me, briefly, before thinking better of himself and returning his hand to sit on the back of his neck instead. He just stares at me, clearly waiting for me to say something.

“Look, Robby, I tried to talk to you earlier and you had nothing to say to me. If you want to know something, then ask.” He nods to himself, turning away so he’s no longer making eye contact with me.

“You’re, what, eight or so weeks along?” His voice comes out sounding rough, like he has to force the words out.

“Nine.”

“Uhm, how long have you known?”

“About three weeks.” A somewhat shaky nod is his only reaction and I feel a little bad about keeping him in the dark for so long.

“You’ve had a scan?” His eyes drift to where I have the ultrasound pictures up on the fridge, right next to my unhealthy amount of lists. Fuck me - did he read those?

“Yup.” God, this is making me nauseous.

“When’s your next one?”

“In a few weeks.” My twelve week scan would be my next check up, already on the calendar for a Tuesday I happen to have off. I grab my water bottle from where it sits on the coffee table and take a small sip, hoping it will help my stomach chill the fuck out.

“Can I, uhm - would it be okay with you if I, uhh, can I come with you?” That makes me pause. I don’t know why, it makes sense that he’d want to be involved with the appointments. Or at least it would make sense in a normal situation. This, unfortunately, is anything but normal. He notices my silence. “I can drive, if you want.”

“I don’t know, Robby. I’ll never restrict your access to the kid but at this stage the appointments are more about me and my health, and I’m not sure about you being there.” The thing is - I do want him there. But this feeling I’ve been carrying around since he stopped talking to me is still weighing heavier on me than how badly I want his support. I pull my blanket tighter around myself, hoping it will give me the strength I need to continue speaking. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

“Sure, yeah, just uh, just let me know. Even if I just sit in the waiting room I’d like to be there.” He turns his body on the couch to face me. “Look, Iris. I’m so sorry for how I’ve been treating you since that night.” I do my best not to roll my eyes at him. “It’s a shitty excuse and it’s not enough, but I woke up and was just so fucking scared that I was going to fuck this up like everything else, so I decided that leaving it at us just having one night together would be better than me ruining whatever we might have had.” Cue the eye roll I’ve been holding in.

“Well look where that got us.” My words have more venom than I intended but I don’t take them back.

“Yeah. Obviously, you’re right.” No fucking shit. Understatement of the fucking century. “I wish I could go back and change it, but that’s not really an option.” I close my eyes as tight as I can manage. I’m pretty close to tears and the last thing I want to do is let him see me cry about this. I’ve been doing a lot of fucking crying lately but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable being vulnerable with him. The tears leak out against my will as I bury my face in my blanket in an effort to shield myself from his gaze. “If you, uhm, if you want, I’d like to take you out on a real date. We can go wherever you want, do anything you like.” That gets me to put my head up again, if only so I can look at him like he’s gone absolutely insane.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m having a stroke. Did you just ask me out on a fucking date?” The nausea doubles, and not because I’m pregnant.

“Uhh, yes?” He sees the tears sprinting down my cheeks, paired with the death glare I’m sending his way and his eyes go wide in response. “I know this is off to a rocky start, but I want to do this right. I want to be involved and be with you. Drive you to appointments, hold your hair while you puke, track down weird middle of the night cravings.” I am incapable of holding in my laughter - and it must freak him out because he starts to speak much faster. “I was telling the truth when I told you that I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, I know I’ve done a shit job of showing it but-“ I abruptly stand up and run to my downstairs bathroom, closing the door and falling to the floor before losing my smoothie to the toilet. Between the pregnancy nausea and the absolute bullshit he’s spouting at me right now there’s no chance of me being able to hold anything down.

Thankfully I had enough time to lock the door behind me. I hear him jiggle the doorknob as I continue to throw up.

“Iris, please,” He pleads with me, but there’s quite literally no fucking way I will be opening the door for him. Not when he just asked me on a date as I sat across the couch from him, crying about being pregnant with his goddamn child because he hasn’t spoken to me since said child was conceived.

“Oh fuck you!” That shuts him up. It doesn’t take long for my stomach to completely empty itself out, and when I think I’m finished I stand to brush my teeth and splash water on my face. Hopefully she’s still free because I’ve decided that I desperately need Dana. I pat myself down, looking for my phone, but I must have left it on the couch.

Taking a few deep breaths to slow down my heart rate and hopefully squash the panic attack I feel coming on, I open the door to find him standing right on the other side. It makes me jump a little bit to have him be so close after weeks of acting like I had the plague. I push past him to walk back to the couch and text Dana. She immediately likes my message, and I take comfort in knowing she’ll be here in no more than fifteen minutes.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Robby. I’ve had as much of this as I can handle for tonight.” He looks absolutely fucking wrecked, and I feel bad enough that I throw him a bone. “Look - it’s not that I don’t want any of that. I do, fucking desperately. But you really hurt me and it’s not enough for you to just show up now.” He nods, looking down at his feet. “I’ll let you know about appointments when I’m a little clearer headed. But, Robby, if you want to be anything other than civil co-parents, you better take your ass to therapy. And really take it seriously, don’t just go because I told you to.” He looks up at me, hands going to run over his face and then brace on the back of his neck.

“I guess I can do that. Jack has someone he recommended to me, I’ll get his number next time I hand off to him at shift change.” I say nothing in response, just walk myself to the front door and grab my wallet. I pull out the card that Jack gave me and hand it to Robby.

“Don’t be mad at him, he picked Samira up after I told her and I just couldn’t keep it in.” He nods, starts to speak, and then thinks better of it. Takes a few seconds to breathe before he speaks again.

“Uh, yeah, okay. I’ll call tomorrow.” He takes a step towards me as I move to open the front door, a clear sign that it’s time for him to get the fuck out of my house. He slips his shoes on and slowly makes his way towards the porch. “Can I give you a hug before I go?” Fucking hell, that’s the last thing I need right now. But my body and my brain are not exactly on the same page at the moment and I find myself nodding before I can refuse.

He pulls me in to what has the potential to be the best hug I’ve ever received, if I wasn’t about ten seconds away from full body sobbing. He’s so all over the place. It’s giving me emotional whiplash. But he’s also warm, and he smells good, and this hug is all I’ve wanted from him for months. I feel my chest start to shake with oncoming sobs and I pull away before it gets that far. I am not fast enough to beat the tears, though, and I know he sees them on my face as I usher him out the door.

“You’ve gotta go, Robby. I’ll see you at work in a few days.” I don’t give him a chance to say anything else as I close and lock the door, leaning my back against it as I do. I slide down to the floor and let the panic and sadness overtake me.

I pull out my phone to see if I have any texts from Dana, but instead I see a notification from my ring doorbell that there’s someone on my porch. Robby still stands there, card in hand, facing the door. I know he can hear me crying - and even if I want him to be the one to comfort me, that’s not what I need. I decide to let him deal with whatever he’s feeling right now on his own.

The next time I get a notification, it’s because Dana has arrived and joined Robby on the porch. I scoot out from the door, unlock it, and text Dana that she can come in but to leave him outside. I hear some murmured words exchanged between the two of them, and whatever she says must do the trick because I hear him walking away. Dana opens the door to find me still sitting on the floor, and immediately drops her purse and joins me. I catch a glimpse of Robby as he turns around. Our eyes briefly meet before I get the door closed again and I’m almost positive he’s got tears in his too as he watches Dana gather me in to a hug.

Robby

The last 36 hours have been arguably the most stressful 36 hours of my life. The woman I knocked up is (rightfully) ignoring me, I got chewed out my both of my best friends, and now I’m standing at the central nurses station searching the floor for Iris like I’m her lost puppy.

Jack is taking his sweet fucking time with sign out, going over the board slowly and watching me like I’m going to bolt at any moment. I had called him on my way home two nights ago after leaving my heart on Iris’s front porch, knowing that he was arguably more informed on the whole situation than I was. I gave him the run down of our conversation and he told me that I am a ‘fucking idiot’ and that I deserved her kicking me out after I asked her out on a date. Pointed out to me that I jumped straight in to wanting to date her, without telling her that I was over the fucking moon knowing we would be having a kid together. Probably should’ve started with that.

In hindsight, he’s absolutely correct. Dana had given me the same speech, just condensed and quieter, as we ran into each other at Iris’s. Told me that I better make myself scarce and call that fucking therapist if I wanted any chance of salvaging this relationship.

And fuck, I want that chance. I’ve done nothing but beat myself up over how I left things that morning, and it’s only gotten exponentially worse since she told me she’s having my baby. Had I just stayed and acted like a normal fucking person, maybe we wouldn’t be here. Maybe she would’ve called me and she could’ve taken the tests with me. I could’ve driven her to her appointment, held her hand and reassured her that I would be there for her however she needed me.

Instead I got kicked out of her house as she sobbed, and she was right to do it.

I called Jack’s therapist, Carson, as soon as I woke up the next morning. He’s able to get me in for an intake tomorrow afternoon, and Jack agreed to come in a little early so I can make it. I’m really, really not looking forward to therapy but I know it has to happen. I’ve known it for a long time, probably since Heather moved back to Portland last year, but it’s like there’s something in my brain keeping me from taking that last step. Nothing like the woman you’re maybe in love with telling you she’s pregnant to kick start that process. I just hope it’s enough, I hope I can be enough for her.

Dana arrives at exactly 7am, taking over for Bridget and surveying her circus for the day. She greets me with a terse nod, and while I understand why she’s upset with me I am not looking forward to dealing with it all shift. I debate greeting her and asking if she’s seen Iris, but she’s looking at me like she’s one word away from punching me in the throat so I refrain.

The nurses all gather around Dana, waiting to hear their assignments for the day. She addresses Jesse, Mateo, Princess, Donnie, Perlah, and the rest of the dayshift crew. Iris is not present for huddle, nor is her name listed on the assignment sheet. Dana must see me looking for her and take pity on me.

“She needed a day. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Dana tells me, not looking at me but it’s pretty fucking clear that she’s addressing me.

“Is she, uh, is she alright?” God, I sound like a fucking teenager who’s just gotten yelled at by his mom. I feel like one too.

“As alright as she can be. Samira is with her. Drop it.” That tone leaves no room for argument, and I try to convince myself that work will be enough of a distraction for the day.

It’s not. I cave before 1pm and text her.

Robby (12:32pm)

Hey, Iris, hope you’re doing okay. Can I bring you anything on my way home? Food? Meds? A baseball bat to beat me with?

She leaves me on read for multiple hours before I get a response.

Iris (4:55pm)

Not tonight

Nothing more. Fucking hell, I know that this is my doing but I just want to talk to her. I know it’s bad when she doesn’t even acknowledge the joke.

Robby (4:57pm)

I have my therapy intake appointment tomorrow afternoon. You’re right, I’ll go and do the work. I want to support you.

She does not technically respond, but she does thumbs up my message which is better than nothing, I guess.

The rest of the shift passes relatively uneventfully. Dana warms up to me a little bit, but it’s plain as day to anyone who sees us interact that she’s pissed off at me. None of my jokes land like they usually would, and when I walk outside to join her as she takes a smoke break she shakes her head at me and points me back inside. Fair enough.

Robby (8:55pm)

Hope you’re getting some good rest. Missed getting to see you at work today.

Read at 8:59pm, no response.

Robby (9:13pm)

Can I bring you anything tomorrow morning at work? Tea? Ginger candies?

Iris (9:27pm)

I’ve got it covered, thanks though

Robby (9:28pm)

Okay, offer stands if you change your mind.

I debate texting her again, letting her know that I’m so god damn excited to be a dad and for her to be a mom, but even I know enough to know that’s an in person conversation. Telling her now, like this, would do nothing but make me feel better. I’ve fucked up enough of this by only thinking about my own needs - guess it’s time for me to attempt to fix that. She’s worth it. They’re worth it.

Iris

The nausea hit me like a freight train the morning of my next shift. I text Dana, who calls out for me, and then Samira. The younger woman has the day off and immediately volunteers herself to come hang out with me. She shows up with zofran and a tote full of stolen emesis bags.

We spend the day camped out on my couch, watching movies and then eventually falling prey to reality TV. We get through half of a season of Love is Blind before I kick her out and tell her that I’ll see her at work in the morning.

Robby texts me a few times, and I want to feel bad for my curt responses, but to be honest I just really do not have it in me to care. I leave his last message on read and fall asleep earlier than I normally do.

I wake up feeling marginally better. The nausea is still very much present, but my breakfast of bananas on toast stays down. Deciding to forgo my one allotted cup of coffee for the morning, I opt for water instead. Coffee on an upset stomach is a recipe for more puking and I’m afraid that if I start again I won’t be able to stop.

Work simultaneously sounds like the best and the worst thing I could be doing right now. The distraction will be more than welcome - but working while feeling like garbage (and dealing with Robby) does not sound like fun.

Samira (6:07am)

Wanna carpool? I can swing by and grab you on my way in.

Iris (6:07am)

You read my mind, yes please

Samira (6:08am)

I’ll be there at 6:30!

She pulls up at 6:31, and I’m already outside waiting when she gets here. As I open the passenger door and climb in she hands me a travel mug that's still warm to the touch.

“Peppermint tea, not sure how your stomach is feeling today but I wanted to have something for you in case the nausea gets you again.” She’s so thoughtful - it immediately makes me tear up.

“I do kinda feel like shit, so thank you. You’re the best.” Samira just turns and smiles at me before shifting the car back into drive and taking us to work.

We get lucky and find a spot close to the building. He must have decided to drive today because that damn suburban is a few spots away, and of course he’s sitting in his fucking car. As soon as he sees us pull up he climbs out and starts to walk our way.

“Want me to intercept him? Give you a few minutes?” Samira asks, following my eyes to where Robby stands.

“Nah, you go in. Better for me to talk to him out here than in front of everyone. But maybe come rescue me in like 10 minutes if I haven’t come in already?” I needed to make sure he was capable of at least pretending to be fucking normal, not that I thought he could but I wanted to at least make sure he knew that I expected him to keep it together enough to not spill the beans.

“You got it. See you in there.” We both climb out of her car, and she heads inside while I stand against the passenger side door and brace for the inevitable. My still hot cup of tea feels like a lifeline and I sip it like it will somehow give me the willpower to get through yet another hard conversation with the man I’m in love with. He stands in front of me, that fuckass green jacket covering his top half and puts his AirPods in their case.

“You feeling any better today?” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he speaks, seems like he might be considering reaching out to hug me but then remembers how that went the last time and decides against it.

“A little bit. Samira made me some peppermint tea and it’s helping.” He glances at the travel mug I’ve got a death grip on.

“Uh, good, that’s good.” Robby rocks back and forth on his feet a few times, clearly unsure of how to interact with me. I realize it will be largely up to me to facilitate this talk.

“Are you gonna be able to be normal about this? There’s exactly five people, including you and me, who know and I don’t want anyone else knowing until they absolutely have to. Get whatever, uh,” I wave my hands in his general direction, “weirdness you have to out now.” I realize this is a pipe dream, not a single day has passed where this man has been able to not show exactly what he’s feeling on his face. It needs to be said anyway.

“I promise that I’ll do my best?” He doesn’t sound all that confident in his ability to play it cool, and I have no choice but to agree with him.

“Ooookay then. I guess we’ll have to see how it goes. Just - please, don’t hover or whatever. People will inevitably notice that you’re acting differently around me.” He has the wherewithal to look slightly ashamed, but nods his agreement. I turn to walk towards the ambulance bay doors and am greeted by the sweet sight of Dana standing outside. Not smoking, just observing. Specifically, she’s observing Robby and I. Probably more him than me, with the way she’s trying to smite him where he stands with just her eyes. I speed up a little bit to reach her and am enveloped in a hug as we come into contact. She gives Robby a once over and does not address him further.

“Hey, hon. How ya feeling?” She slips something into a pocket of my scrub top as she pulls away. “Ginger sucking candies, they were helpful for me with my morning sickness.”

“Thanks, Dana. Between those and the tea Samira made me I should be okay today.” I say as I gesture to the cup I’m holding. “Hopefully there’s some left in the breakroom tea stash.”

“You’ve eaten?” She asks me, and I know if I say no she will immediately send me home.

“Yeah, it even stayed down!” She smiles and nods at me, and then turns slightly to address Robby, who’s still standing behind me.

“Can we help you with something?” Damn - this is the longest I have ever seen her hold a grudge with him. It’s vindicating as hell.

“Ahh, nope, guess not.” He says to us as Dana continues to glare at him, and his self preservation instincts must kick in because he quickly makes his way inside. He reaches out to give my shoulder a squeeze as he walks by, telling me “glad you’ve been able to eat, hope the nausea leaves you alone today.”

Dana sees me tense as he touches me - but he’s too busy looking at me to notice the murderous glint her eyes have taken on. He continues on, waiting for the ambu bay doors to slide open before walking inside.

“Want me to kill him?” She asks, deadpan and I know if I wanted her to she would make his life a living hell.

“Not yet - supposedly he has a therapy intake appointment this afternoon, I’m gonna try to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was borderline distraught the other night, so maybe he’ll actually take it seriously.” I would like nothing more than for him to really try, finally get over whatever the fuck causes him to be the way he is. My poor little romantic heart is holding out hope.

“Yeah I did hear that Abbot is coming in early tonight to cover for him. Hoping for the best, for both of you. But my offer still stands.”

With that, we both turn to head inside and start our day. The ED is a shit show this morning, night shift having been absolutely slammed all night so we’ve got a lot of work to do to catch up.

I’m too busy to really feel sick for the first half of my shift, which is a blessing. Eating feels far too risky, so all I consume over the first six hours of work is some water and one and a half saltines. I try to work with patients that Samira picks up as much as possible in order to minimize awkward interactions with Robby - and while he can frequently be seen staring at me from across the unit he doesn’t do anything too suspicious.

Unfortunately, one o’clock rolls around and whatever pregnancy symptom gods have been watching over me abandon their post. I’m sitting at the central nurses station, charting and making sure all my assessments are done, when I have to quickly take myself to the employee bathroom to throw up. I make an effort to appear nonchalant as I do so, but I’m pretty sure it fails spectacularly. Dana, who has been watching me like a fucking hawk, quickly passes her current task off to Princess and follows me into the restroom. She locks the door behind her and comes to make sure my hair is out of the line of fire.

It’s a relatively short puking spell but I still feel off kilter as fuck when I sit back to catch my breath. Not eating all day will do that, unfortunately. Dana is ready with a warm washcloth and my water bottle, both of which I take in an effort to feel less gross.

“God, I fucking hate this.” I say as I lean back against Dana where she sits behind me. She reaches into her back pocket and rips open an alcohol swab for me, and I wave it lightly in front of my nose to help quell the next bout of nausea. It helps, but I need to put something in my stomach or I’ll be right back where I started. I open up one of the ginger candies I’ve been carrying around in my pockets and plop it in my mouth. The nausea is still there, but it’s in the background now and I feel good enough to start standing up.

Dana helps steady me as I transition to my feet. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings, having thrown up pretty much everything I’ve eaten today and feeling a touch weak. She notices immediately.

“Do you need to sit back down?” She’s already reaching to put the toilet seat cover down so I can sit on top as I nod. She hands me my water bottle and prompts me to take a small sip. “Not gonna hit the floor on me, are ya?”

“Not right this second, but I do need to sit here for a little bit.” She reaches over to brush a few stray hairs off my now very sweaty forehead and then uses the same hand to palpate a pulse at my wrist. I know it’s fast without her having to tell me. My chest expands slowly as I work on taking deep breaths to slow my heart rate down.

“You gonna be good to finish out today? I have the staff for you to leave if you want to.” It’s a testament to how terrible I’m feeling that I’m actually considering leaving early, but I don’t have my car here so I’m kinda shit out of luck.

“Samira drove me, I don’t have my car and no way am I taking the bus like this.” Puking on public transportation? Absolutely the fuck not.

“Well then I guess I’m gonna park you in an on call room and one of us will take you home after shift change. But you still need to get some food in you, think you could keep down something small if I have Samira write you for some zofran?” Eating is just about the last thing I feel like doing, second to only passing out and having to check in so I guess I’m gonna have to try. I nod and Dana pulls out her phone, presumably to text Samira.

An unknown amount of time passes while we wait for Samira. I focus on staying upright while Dana stands watch. When my friend does come in with the zofran, she also has a banana and a bottle of my favorite flavor of Gatorade with her. I stick the zofran in my mouth and let it dissolve, hoping it decides to take effect quicker than it usually does.

Dana, who has now been off the floor for a suspiciously long amount of time, is the first one to break the silence that has formed while we all wait to see if my body is going to continue to revolt.

“Samira, do you have a few minutes to hang out in here? I should go check in with Princess, and on my way back in I’ll make sure Robby is occupied so we can get her into an on call room without him causing a scene.” Samira agrees and Dana takes her leave.

I absolutely do not need Robby hovering right now. I’ve been so careful to avoid him (professionally, of course) today and if he sees me like this then the whole department is gonna know something is up. I’m not ready for everyone to be all up in my business, so hopefully Dana is able to keep him busy.

She must be successful, because a few minutes later she comes roaring back into the room.

“This is your moment hon, let’s get going!” Her and Samira help me up and make sure I’m not going to immediately fall over, and we make our way to an unused on call room on the second floor. Somehow, we manage to get me all the way through the unit without much notice. Only Cassie sees us go, and while she definitely knows something is happening she isn’t one to gossip.

I only dry heave once on the way up, and once they have me settled I manage to keep down the Gatorade and half the banana.

“Alright, kid, we’re gonna leave you here to rest. One of us will be up every so often to check on ya. Here’s some saltines and a sprite, try to keep nibbling if you can.” Dana kneels down next to where I’m laying as she talks to me in a quiet voice, and presses a kiss to my hair before she stands back up. “We’ve both got our phones on, if you start to feel off again call and we’ll come back.” My mouth is currently occupied by another bite of banana, so I just shoot them both a thumbs up as they leave me to try and get some rest.

[merchantziro]

Felt inspired by this so...

Kyle Rayner was currently flying over Earth when it happened.

When the sky tore open and the Ancients of another world threatened Earth, giving them a warning to dismantle something called the Ghost Investigation Ward or their world rendered slaughtered for being complicit in their transgressions against the realm of the dead and the King himself.

Now it was considered an all hands on deck level emergency as the Justice League were fighting some of the skeletons after the Ancients decided they needed an "example".

Kyle clashed against the blade of one of them with a stylized triangular saber formed of his own will, based on a legendary hero of an old video game series.

The rest of the League were struggling to even harm these guys and now, just as he felt his own blade nearly pushed into his neck, suddenly a green plane construct is seen flying overhead as it fires two Gatling Guns at the army of skeletons knocking them down and forcing a retreat.

"Thanks for the save John," Kyle chuckled looking a bit relieved.

"That wasn't me kid," John noted as he, Guy, and Jessica got closer revealing none of them made the plane. A different Lantern perhaps?

The plane then landed and began to open as the supposed Lantern jumped out, Kyle's eyes widened before glaring and entering a battle ready stance.

A figure with a green cloak and hood with a white and silver body, a green glow in the center of his chest.

The Spectre? But... That familiar green mask. He was the Spectre but now he was-

"Just like old times, eh guys?"

"Parallax!"

Kyle immediately rushed to Hal Jordan, only for a massive green fist construct to be caught by a baseball mitten.

"Woah, easy there hotshot... I ain't here for a fight."

"Like I'm falling for-"

"You already know I was corrupted by Parallax right? Why don't you give me a chance to-"

"That doesn't excuse you for all the-"

"-For all the blood and carnage with me ripping the Green Lantern Corps to shreds, yeah I know."

Hal finished for Kyle, before looking to him and then his former teammates.

"Look, I get it. But what do you want me to say? I'm dead. I'm dead and I deserved what happened to me for what I did despite the fact I was corrupted into it. Trust me, I know I have a hell of a lot to make up for... And I'm glad you were able to set right where I went wrong even if you had to learn things the hard way."

Hal placed a hand on his successor's shoulder, looking proud of him. His eyes then looked up at the sky, looking at the beings who continued to glare at the Earth.

"...Those guys were just the more overly eager ones who weren't as willing to wait, there's tens of hundreds more out there prepared to rain hell on Earth. And that's nothing compared to what the Ancients will do."

Superman finally approached The Spectre and took a deep breath.

"Hal... What is going on? What did we get roped into."

"The current Ghost King who defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark, King Danny Phantom, has been injured by the Ghost Investigation Ward, a government subdivision dedicated to the study and destruction of the dead due to labeling them as non-sapient and malicious."

"And what can you tell us about this King Phantom?" Batman appeared next to Hal so suddenly, he almost jumped.

"By the name of the Infinite Spooky, how the fuck do YOU manage to somehow spook a spook!?"

The Bat glared at Hal who decided it wasn't worth arguing as he cleared his throat, "That he's a good kid, basically a baby compared to the rest of the ghosts due to half-dying in the last year or two, that he's a hero who tried to protect Amity Park from ghost attacks and later ghosts from the GIW and his ghost hunting bio-parents, that his living form looks like he belongs in your arsenal of adoptions which I'm betting has tripled in the time I've been dead."

Hal chuckled before looking serious.

"Regardless we need to get the proper Lantern Corps involved to help with the crowd control, some other ghost Lanterns are on their way to Oa... I'm just here to keep watch over the planet to keep the innocent safe. Because why should the actions of the few speak for the planet as a whole?"

Hal stood there with his former allies before looking away, noticing more skeleton soldiers showing up among other ghosts, the Ghost Lantern held out a fist.

"You guys should leave... Leave this to me!"

"No way, we're not letting you fight those things alone!"

John suddenly shouted.

"Yeah Jordan, you just gonna try and hog all the action like old times?"

Guy seemed cocky, cracking his knuckles.

Kyle meanwhile was silent before smirking...

"Just who the hell do you think we are?"

The former Green Lantern looked surprised before calmly smiling as he began to speak... "In brightest day... In blackest night..."

John continued it with, "No evil shall escape my sight..."

Guy chuckled out, "Let those who worship evil's might..."

Kyle shouted out alongside his allies as they were all prepared to charge the army, "BEWARE MY POWER."

Hal then immediately charged into the fray creating a bunch of constructs based on a few of the Justice League members... Prepared to fight alongside his fellow Lanterns.

"GREEN LANTERN'S LIGHT!"

DpxDc Being a Green Lantern’s ghost is quite different from being one in life.

When a Green Lantern falls, their ring leaves the body. Some souls find paradise, but others remain obsessively bound to their Green Lantern duty, even in death.

The Infinite Realms are bast, so much so that it's rare to encounter a Green Lantern. Thus, they arrive too late to witness Phantom’s battle with the Tyrant King, only catching the moment he is sent to his final rest.

Some of the Green Lanterns still remember the reign of Pariah Dark. Unable to confront him directly, they turned their duty toward relocating ghosts, hiding those the Tyrant King wished to erase.

But being a Green Lantern’s ghost is quite different from being one in life. They can feel the new king’s core, a primordial need for protection and space. It feels like home.

There is no Oa, but there is King Phantom. And if he asks, they will serve.

Until the living world wounds the king in his human form. There is no way to kill him before his time, but he can… had been hurt. And as he sleeps, the realms scream for war.

Earth is under siege. The skeleton army forms a ring around the planet, awaiting the ancients command. Who, out of kindness for the king’s love of Earth, gives mortals a warning: destroy the GIW, or perish.

It’s chaos. The ancients does not appear in their usual form. They are titans to those who look up to the sky.

The Green Lanterns don’t stay to see more. They fly to Oa, because the ancients power of destruction will not stop with Earth.

[lizardsfromspace]

The secret sauce behind the story of modern Pixar is how retailers fucking hated all their films in the late 2000s. Ratatouille/WALL-E/Up? Retailers openly despised them. Ratatouille was a hard sell, given its premise. WALL-E merch was for collector's only.

And they really, really hated Up. Really hated it. Pixar's favorite toy manufacturer straight up refused to produce any toys for it. They were openly concerned that its old man hero would be impossible for boys to relate to (sometimes they were openly concerned about the Asian kid being "unrelatable", too).

Time after time they were holding up these films as hard-to-market disasters that could never be as big as Cars, and all three grossed higher than Cars. They were decrying films as "not commercial" and every single one ended up in the top ten films of the year. The media was overrun with retailer doomsaying about movies that were universally beloved everywhere else.

But then Disney listened. Cars merch was making so much money, after all, as was Toy Story. Meanwhile, all the merch no one made for Ratatouille, WALL-E, & Up wasn't making any money at all, which proves something, I guess. And that's how we went from that run to getting Brave sandwiched in between a Cars sequel and Monsters Inc prequel, and original movies that are sanitized to within an inch of their lives & only allowed to be made if they can make a sequel at the same time, too

[softh0neycomb]

Wine Gums

Word count: 1.3k

CW: slight NSFW.

You swallow again, face growing hot as you take in more details. You want to climb this man like a tree. 

You’ve always been too curious for your own good, so when a friend sends you a link to one of those weird personal ads on a murky corner of the internet, you click it. 

You read through the post, once, twice and then a third time for good measure. 

This man, he’s looking for a roommate. You clock the location and hiss between your teeth. That place is fancy. You walk past it on your way to work, all shining glass and polished stone, doormen and security. You’re pretty sure it has a pool on the roof. It’s so out of your league you don’t even daydream about it. 

It’s why you had to read the post three times, because from the sounds…well read of it. 

He’s offering it for free. No rent required. It’s at the top of the post, in bold, unmissable. 

No, what he wants is unconventional. 

I’m in the military, I’m a busy man and don’t have time to foster relationships and the like when I could be deployed at a moment's notice. I’m looking for a roommate who’d consent to performing/engaging with sex acts with me whenever I require it.  I believe the correct term is ‘free use.’ In return you would get to live in the flat rent free, all bills and utilities paid for. You’d get all the perks that come with being a resident of the building including gym and pool access. I would provide additional money if I wanted to see you in something specific. 

Then, underneath, an honest to god application form. 

You don’t consider yourself vanilla by any means, but free use is not a kink you’re entirely familiar with. Which leads you to your second too-curious-for-your-own-good click of the evening. 

Alice down the proverbial rabbit hole. 

After shifting through layers of misogyny disguised as kink. You find a couple of good blogs who engage in the practice, most of them are married but their depictions of what their ‘play’ looks like gets you a lot hotter than some of the frankly, heinous, captions written on the popular porn blog sites. 

You press your thighs together after reading one particular account of a woman who calls herself ‘Lola.’ 

I’m wet nearly all of the time now as it is, the thought that he could just..take whatever he wants always in the back of my mind so when we settle down to watch a movie I don’t think about it, not even when he pulls me onto his lap, shushing me when I ask what he’s doing. He flips up my skirt, unzips his jeans and sinks me onto his cock. Then he goes back to watching the movie. I try to grind on him and he slaps my thigh. “I just want you to keep my cock warm whilst we watch the film.” He doesn’t move, not until near the end when I’m out of my mind and spacy, he starts bouncing me on his cock, groaning at how wet the sounds are. 

You can see it in your head, strong hands wrapped around your hips, keeping you still. Full. You bite your lip. 

You’ve got a job as a media assistant, if anything you’re a glorified intern. Drowning in student debt despite graduation being a few years ago now, stretching paychecks to their limit and the thought of not having to worry about rent or bills is a really, really fucking nice thought. You don’t know whether it’s that thought, the fact you’re pent up from looking at porn for a few hours or the two glasses of wine you’d had with dinner but…you click the application form. 

It’s a thorough document, it asks questions about everything, your experience, what you like and dislike, why you’re applying. 

You pour another glass of wine. It makes you bolder, so when you reach the question. Why are you submitting an application? You don’t hold back, it’s a full stream of tipsy consciousness pouring out of you. 

Because I’ve had, to be quite honest, a really shitty day and my friend sent me this to make me laugh, i guess. jokes on her though cos i’m three glasses of wine deep after researching what free use is and right now nothing sounds better than letting someone else think about bills and shite. i’m drowning in student debt…plus the whole idea sounds pretty hot y’know? being like a toy, a doll for someone. 

You fill out the rest of the application in the same way, before falling asleep on the sofa. Drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. 

Across the city, Simon’s laptop pings. He starts a little when he sees it's an application form. He didn’t expect anyone to really respond to him, it was more of a hope and a prayer. 

He laughs more than he should reading some of your responses. 

What are some of your dislikes? I hate washin up and having to put the bins out wait this is probably like a sex thing right? Um oh fuck, i don’t like needles or like um bodily fluids that belong in the toilet. Kinda a suck it and see girl though? 

Have you ever done anal? Not unless my own fingers count? Surprisingly few men I’ve met are into it, which is weird, i thought all men wanted it. I’ve got a plug at any rate its pink. 

Attached to the form are a few selfies and a tasteful nude that you’ve taken in a mirror, wrapped in lingerie. Simon chokes on his own spit. He sends an email back, attaching an offer for a flat tour and a photo of himself, mask on. Explaining that he only shows his face to people he trusts fully. For security. He drains the last of his bourbon and stretches, a tiny grimace flitting over his features when a joint pops before moving to the bedroom. Quietly hopeful. 

You wake the next morning to a wine headache and a dry mouth, you wince at the stream of light filtering in from the gap in the curtains. Your laptop sits there innocuously, you avoid looking at the screen. Dragging yourself off the sofa and into your tiny kitchen, you flick the kettle on and rummage for a clean mug, if it were earlier in the month you might have taken yourself out for an actual coffee, but right now, you’re in necessities only mode. 

You do, however, add two heaped teaspoons of instant coffee into your mug and more sugar than you usually would before drifting back to the sofa and turning your laptop back on. 

(1) Unread notification 

You swallow reflexively, suddenly nervous, coffee not helping your dry mouth. Your brain spirals with a thousand what if’s and worse case scenarios. You shake your head roughly and click the message open. 

Fucking hell. 

The man, Ghost, is a giant. The photo, taken in a full length mirror, is a simple one. There’s no camera angles or tricks that could fake shoulders that prodigious. You swallow again, face growing hot as you take in more details. You want to climb this man like a tree. 

You exhale when you read his offer of a flat tour, knots in your chest loosening as you read his sign off. 

A right lovely one you are, pretty bird all dolled up in lingerie. 

You message back accepting the offer of a flat tour and asking if he could do a Sunday as its your quietest day and your only guaranteed day off. Once it’s sent you drag yourself to the shower, self aware enough to know you’ll fixate if you don’t occupy your time with something else. 

If you get off in the shower thinking about Ghost and the way his shoulders filled out the black compression top he was wearing and what his voice might sound like. 

That’s no one’s business but yours. 

[ilianasbruce]

heyyy I truly love how you write for Bruce and had a curious ask that maybe could also be a x reader kinda request - what would it take for him to cry or show really heavy emotion (either in front of the reader or in private)? I feel like he’s good at masking emotions but feels so much without knowing how to express them but idk I’m so interested to hear your thoughts :)

“Somewhere in the Gotham, there’s a wounded bat.”

word count: 4,090

summary: your Bruce and his vulnerability.

warnings: mentions of sexual intercourse. minors do not interact, please.

notes: hi, hi!! ♡ i want to thank you for your amazing vision, dear and i wanted to speak my mind on this!! and my other dears who requested the other pieces, i promise i’ll be delivering them in following weeks!! love you, mwah!!! ♡

My dearest stranger, I’ll answer this question of yours in a few different directions. I usually tend to answer the questions through his psychological breakdown, so for this one, I want to start with it until we reach the answer to your inquiry.

Bruce, specifically the young and ‘early Batman years’, was something else — a different breed. He was not a child anymore but at the same time, was the same angry and devastated boy inside. Young Bruce, twenty-five when he came back to Gotham, was headstrong and arrogant in his vision. So, we must look into these factors before we dissect his psychology and reach the answer to your intriguing question.

Bruce was fresh out of his training for twelve years with an incredible amount of things he had seen and learnt. He, somehow knew what he was but it was still impossible to know what your true desires were without a few years of practice on the field.

Young, Bat Bruce in his few years was focusing on one thing: Gotham. He tried not to heed anything other than his mission. But, of course, it was unimaginable that Gotham and her people did not affect him in some ways.

I’ll give a few timelines for you — it’s up to you which timeline you want to meet Bruce and each timeline will give us a different perspective I hope. Before we dive into the timeline, we must know that in all of them in my opinion, Bruce struggles with trust and vulnerability. That is the main factor, because he is not to blame in the situation since his care and love were used against him, his morals and perspective about love. It is deeply rooted in him and we’ll see it in every, early periods of his relationship with the reader.

The first timeline is if you met Bruce one year of becoming Bat, with no one else before you. I personally love this timeline, because in my many works and mind, I usually imagine Bruce in those moments when he had found the sole person in his life who never put him in dreadful situations about love. Bruce, as I mentioned in my other pieces, is a lover. He even admitted the power of his love in his comics (Batman: The Knight). I heavily support this version of him, because it is, — supposed to be the main fuel why Bruce chose the path to become who he is today. He has enough love for his city and humanity.

And if we say that Bruce loves deeply, we are never wrong. I’m so fucking tired of people and modern comic writers painting him as a terrible individual and lover when in fact, he is the most intense lover we could see. He is the hope of Gotham, a disciplined soul who tries to protect the people’s lives from the same kind of traumas that stained and shattered his whole life forevermore. How can we overlook this, when Bruce literally loves and cares for people? And they dare to write him an abusive, morally terrible man when in reality Bruce is the whole opposite of it? I think it is the worst case to put him down, to represent and paint him as the man he would never be in any universe.

I can give a basic example, draw a line to show how the mere simple things are accepted about him proves the point of Bruce being a lover.

His playboy persona. It is the most basic instance, too easy to prove his love life.

Do we really think and accept that Bruce was a natural seducer? That he was blessed with that personality? That he never needed a teacher to guide him how to manipulate and get into people’s minds? That he was a siren to pull them and use them for a mere release? Do we?

Bruce, in fact, was the boy (if we are talking about his teenage years) who was already darkened with his tragedy but still had the capability of pure love. He was the complete opposite of being a player, never bearing an inch of temptation in his body to lure them. He had true intentions as a decent person since the murder of his parents, and as he believed in justice, he believed in the truthfulness, pureness of love, too. If he loved, he’d mean it. He ached for both emotional and physical connection. He’d never chase the feeling of altering his partners over and over again, seducing them as much as he wanted.

This notion comes from his moral and ethical traits, his own pure and virtuous intentions. He was never a deceiver in love and he ached for a true understanding, even though he was unaware of it. Bruce had his time to learn about the master of seduction and manipulation from his mentors, then he sharpened them in his ongoing Batman years because he understood that the world revolved around something else that was against his morals. And he was okay with that since it was the only thing that let him achieve his lifetime mission.

We saw his despise, his difference from the playboy Bruce Wayne, clashing with each other overly because that’s not who he is. It is the a mere example of his psychological inclination.

So, here comes the interesting part about Bruce’s preferences in love as we saw in the comics. The real justification why Bruce was caught up in a romantic tension with chaotic ‘love interests’ is because of the unconscious roots of his morals and trauma. (Bear with me, please.) I had seen on internet once, an user saying that Bruce was specifically into the morally wrong women, (which I’m heavily agreeing with it) — I mean Selina or Talia, it was because he was senselessly into the idea of helping them in the back of his mind; (the one he did not even dive into) and bringing ‘justice’ into their worlds. That’s why I never accept a ‘criminal x hero’ love story which for years Bruce had been written in this trope, because when we dissect the psychology part, it’s just Bruce being unconsciously tied to ‘prove, settle’ something in them. It could never be romantic love, because love stands for different things. The same goes for the ‘enemies-to-lovers’ situation, too. I never understand why a person would love their actual enemy, realistically it is very unlikely for me to grasp the idea and that’s why I loathe the trope indeed; because under everything, we have buried factors that we’re able to look into with them to the main justifications of our preferences. Then, we can decide whether it is real or a trauma response to our tragedies.

Same goes for Bruce, too. It is the main reason why he has complexity and we need to value him through the fundamental, realistic factors. (but that’s just me. I’ve no judgment of people, though. I love to hear about people’s experiences and likes. ♡)

Thus, if we can dive deeper, we can understand Bruce’s ‘comic’ preferences for chaotic, criminal people and his inner struggles with vulnerability through them. (’Catwoman & Batman’ is the result of pure male fantasy, no one can change my mind on this. I never have respect or support for characters written like Selina, which is one of the reasons why I am against the relationship between ’Bat and Cat’.)

The real reason I wanted to include this section of my thoughts because I wanted to show the real contrast of Bruce’s character, because I do really believe that Bruce needs a decent partner who isn't clawing or clashing him, but supporting and loving him with decent, normal, and realistic morals. We need to focus on these since I’ll explain Bruce’s struggles and vulnerability.

If Bruce met the reader before everything, in the first year of his Bat-years, he’d learn to be open with the reader as much as he could. I imagine him, as a young lover and husband, he’d be too inclined to his lover. You could — did basically teach him the meaning of marriage and love, and he’d gladly accept it. Bruce loves to orbit around his lover, relishing in your love. Your love was pure, there was no intention behind your motives — just true love, unconditional and endless for him. You weren't there to ‘claw’ your way out or fight him for your goals, you were simply there to love him — the idea of love that he’d carved into his brain from his deceased parents.

Speaking of his parents, I truly believe why Bruce would be into the marriage as soon as he’d found you, specifically in his younger years, not only because he loved you and did not bear to think about losing you, but it was also engraved in his mind from his parents.

His beloved parents’ love was the only role model of romantic love in his life and he’d embrace it contentedly. He’d seen how his father loved his mother, his dear mother that Bruce only flourished in her love heavily, even though we know Martha had struggled with serious issues. His father’s devotion and support of his mother no matter what were pure love in Bruce’s mentality. And just imagine, if Bruce found his partner, he’d definitely cherish them from this perspective.

The idea of marriage became something sacred for him like the old texts preached. It was intimate and enigmatic for him, the idea and reality. He loved the thrill of it, loved the idea of finally having someone to himself without sacrificing or fighting through the years. You were the main reason everything around and in him altered. From this view, marriage with you was something that Bruce ached for.

There are many things we can say about Bruce’s idea of marriage (let this be another day’s theme) from the things we had talked about above, but one thing that Bruce wanted marriage because he wanted to be intertwined with you and your soul forevermore. As soulmates. As the never-ending bond, even in another life.

If you were his young partner, like he was as young as you, you were the one who taught him vulnerability. This is my view surely. Because just imagine, how he was elated when you became his and as your Moon orbiting around you, do we really think he’d not accept your motives? His precious lover, who’d kiss his scars and sleep right next to him every night in the sheets of your wedlock bed, became the first thing he saw in the early morning glow though the heavy curtains?

You’ve mentioned that he was good at masking his emotions, but if your Bruce was the one in this timeline that I explained, I do slightly believe that he’d let his thoughts out in the next period of time. But, again, as you have a point, not that smoothly. But through patience and some time. I can see that in your early years of marriage, as you’d trust him lovingly and let him see you, he’d be starting to do the same. Yet, Bruce still would be struggling to be open at first.

There is one thing in my head that Bruce loves to pillow talk, like literally! I think it is the sweetness and the peace after you two had sex and he was delighting in you every single time. I had once mentioned in my pieces that Bruce being into skin to skin with you, it did not matter if it was sexual or not. And after sex, the minutes were one of the moments he’d look forward to. It was the exact moment when he started to be vulnerable with you at first in my beliefs.

Foremost, it was his showing of love, speaking to you about whatever you wanted to converse about or simply listening to you as you were cuddling him. But afterwards, it started to turn to his every emotion. Anger or breakdown, depression or exhaustion, elation or thrill — anything. He was feeling so good in your arms, even in his weariness. Nonetheless, if he was broken, you’d immediately know from his posture and he wouldn’t even bother to hide. You may think why he was effortlessly speaking about his worries? It leads us to the words I’ve preached above: Bruce was both trying to let you see him as you did for him and he believed in the holiness of marriage, that he shouldn't be holding back when you were there, right next to him forevermore.

He’d not repress himself, he’d let his words out as you were urging him every single time. Marriage was supposed to be carried out by two souls and when you were too trusting and in love with him, who was he to defy his own feelings for you? Who was he to hold back himself when he ached for understanding and love through his years, specifically when he had found his soulmate? He’d be bursting out his words, sometimes overly rigid to speak or utter and you’d listen, supporting and understanding him over and over again.

Sometimes, he could speak in a complicated manner since he’d have a hard time explaining his thoughts — yet, you were there, as if he were the Sun and that’d be enough for him to continue. And through the years, as you two started to live a life together, it became too easy to let his thoughts out to you. You’d look at him and know he was planning to mutter a word.

This is one haul: your husband could be struggling at first slightly and naturally, since he never felt this powerful about someone to have their hand in marriage. And, let me add this, he’d be excessively excited to have a spouse, (my shayla, my shayla ♡) and he’d be beaming to the Moon and back to speak to you about his thoughts since you’d nurture him heavily to be more vulnerable with you, which would last forevermore.

The other take, however, is if you did meet Bruce after two to three years of being Batman and he, well, he was after a toxic situationship. God, here it comes.

I wanted to show this timeline, since I do believe we can explore that. Your Bruce would be restraining himself about both vulnerability and emotions until it started to be an issue between you two during the early years. His love had been used against him again and again, yet here he was in love with you. But you were there evermore, never intending to leave him after seducing him for your liking, slightly having him let his guard down, and then telling him how it was not good for both of you, your entire relationship solely based on a time-wasting hour sex and tension in the name of you feeling a connection after the tough times in your life.

No.

No one could be equal to you and that was the thing.

You were so lovely, loving him truly for who he was and solely for him. But he was forced to fight his efforts to prevent your love due to trauma of his shitty situationship that male authors’ fantasy was filled through it, a “femme fatale” and her own criminal goals that left your Bruce too fucked up. Once the essence of sex, the intimacy between the real lovers was now ruined for the lover Bruce.

It’d taken him long, to confess his feelings to himself to let you in. It was still the love at first sight, but your Bruce was unconsciously afraid of his heart being broken again, thus he was halting himself over and over again, until he couldn't bear to stay away from you. We can never blame him; he let and trusted a few people and they left him on the road for their selfish motives — none of them acknowledging and caring, never altering themselves as Bruce would for them. He was still there, with his caring heart and he was left alone because love was nothing more than a sexual tension. The love they don't even know the meaning of that led Bruce to be the Protector of Gotham, a symbol of hope.

What a shame for them.

When he became yours — still stumbling on love and trust issues, yet chose to marry you — it took long enough to heal from the trauma. Don’t be thinking otherwise, he was still sweet and gentle with you, but it was verily different from the first timeline Bruce. This Bruce of yours wasn’t speaking his mind out during sex, pillow talks, or when you two were merely tangled with each other for sleep in the warmth of your bed, denying himself until you asked him about his notions. He’d still be afraid of being used, to be left in that loneliness once again — even though you were his partner, you were carrying his last name happily. It was a basic trauma response, just as he was being his alter ego every night.

He loved you truthfully, more than he did for the others but he wasn't speaking or letting real set of emotions to you unless you ushered him. It’d tire you both for a good extended period, both hurting him and you heavily. You would be burdened by proving to him that he had nothing to be scared of anymore, but it’d leave you insecure in your own thoughts that maybe he didn’t want you and that was the last thing for Bruce to make you feel unworthy of his messy love.

He loved you so dearly, became overly protective of you and clingy, but still denied his emotions to you. He could never want to hurt you in any sense and when he struggled with words, he just shut himself out but saw it in your eyes how it was tolling on you. Your first years of marriage consisted of this issue. Even when Dick came into your lives— you two were stumbling but at least it was not severe like the previous years. Bruce knew you loved him, but the years of not getting any response from the few people he cared for and wanted romantically left him disheartened and demoralized, even though you were whispering to his lips that you were his until the end.

Bruce started to fix himself when he saw how it was draining you. You were so precious to him, his Sun and heart, the one who he did comprehend the meaning of true love because of. He’d be trying to be a better husband for you, not in a materialistic way but emotionally, too. He’d let his guard down ultimately — finally pushing the nightmarish thoughts of you leaving him or using him like the others.

Bruce could never think of terribly of you, never let any single suspicion creep over him but it was too hard to flee from the thoughts of making a single mistake and watching you leave him. Speaking of self-blaming about ‘making a mistake’, I think Bruce some days would think and accuse himself for the position he was in before you, because maybe he had made a mistake and he deserved to be left alone (his ethical traits already accepting the blame as an clean game), but it was never correct — he was just an unreliable narrator in his mind, constantly doubting his capability of romantic love. It was one of the justifications why he was still struggling with vulnerability.

When he started to push his dreadful visions, he started to heal. Your love was already a cure for him and when he stopped resisting himself? That was the reward for his efforts for Gotham. He’d be at peace to evolve into the man who wasn't broken anymore but daily loved and cherished by the love of his life. He’d then become vulnerable with you, yet still with hesitation until he’d learn to push it aside and speak to you.

I am thinking that the physical affection of yours was one of the main motives he’d be distracted him from his uncertainty and let you pull and love him how you wanted as he was nestling into you. It’d force him to see that it is you and only you, his partner, as your lips would be kissing his temple, whispering how much you loved him to his skin as he was breathing steadily in the darkness of your room. No lie, it would take him a sufficient amount of years to be fully vulnerable with you, but it was worth it. He’d be at ease and speak to you about what was bothering him, what was itching his brain when you’d hum ‘Mhm.’ to his exhausted tone of voice.

What would it take him to show a heavy emotion? You.

Just you.

It is the main characteristic of every timeline. You were the reason why Bruce was letting his yearnings blossom. You were the one who took him to the end line where he wasn’t doubtful anymore. He’d be stressing his head out over the atrocities of Joker or gritting his teeth when Alfred was stitching his wounds, yet he was alright. Alright to show you how much pain he was in, for the actions to protect Gotham. He knew you so well, so well than you knew yourself and he knew how you were just there to support him, his alter ego, and his tragedy until the end.

His theme was too sophisticated to be uttered by a single sentence, but you listened to him dearly. He became the one thing you ever loved to listen, never getting enough of his catastrophes and his visions. He was sometimes afraid of how much you wanted him, loved him but it was enough. Your Bruce in every timeline was obsessively spiraling in your love and relishing every second of it.

You were the one who eased him into the edges, let him be who he was inside. Bruce, your Bruce.

He learned to permit himself and enjoy you as much as he could, as he did enhance it until you two were gone. Any crashing out or any elation was uttered to you eventually, it doesn't matter which timeline you two were in. You taught him to exist in peace in your arms and he caught it in the air effortlessly, like how he learned every inch of knowledge from his mentors during his youth.

It got him in a situation where he needed to come into your arms to talk to you, because you were the one who knew what to say to him.

There was a difference between you and his other trustee, Alfred.

Alfred was his father and he knew his son’s struggles. He fought the way you fought for Bruce’s inner demons to unleash him but Alfred knew you were utterly different from what he was to Bruce.

You were his son’s lover. You were someone who could only be the one for Bruce. Alfred saw how you altered him without any ill intention for the better. Once the Bruce who never cared about how he looked like a dead and raged man after his patrols, was now shaving his face as soon as his stubble dared to grow by an inch because you once told him how his stubble was tickling you (or otherwise as you preferred).

You were too kind and sweet for his son, truthfully loving him as your soulmate, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty, until death tore you apart. How can Bruce defy you, deny your motives to make him a better man, in vulnerability, too?

my dearest stranger, it is up to you to decide, but one thing that was real it was your Bruce’s endless love for you that took him to the places he never imagined or dreamed of having in his life.

I hope I answered your request ♡ and if you do have any word, don't be shy and talk to me. I hope you’re having an amazing week, kiss kiss!!! ♡ ♡ ♡

[thegreatbacon]

If I had to hazard a guess as to why it fell off, it's because video games (or perhaps more specifically those who play them) no longer need to socially justify themselves.

Like the industry had this big resurgence in the 90s and by the early 2000s a majority of everyone under the age of like, 20, was consistently playing games. But the majority of society, from it's tastemakers to it's journalists to it's politicians and parents were all considerably older. They didn't grow up with video games and they fucking hated these things.

So many arguments about "these things will rot your brain, read a book", about whether or not video games are even an art form, and of course the big old "these things are violent and will make you a violent killer".

Hence the need to dream up some sort of justification (which really just mirrors some of the actual justifications used at the time) which were; actually these things train your hand eye coordination and improve your tactics and strategy capabilities.

But now we live in a world 20 years on, and those kids and young adults who used to have to justify themselves to social authority are the authority and it is self evident what video games are and how they fit into society. Jack Thompson lost and video games are art, so there's no more social need to justify playing them. The value is self evident.

There used to be a plotline that goes something like "you're the best gamer in the world, and game was really just a covert training and recruitment tool, so now you're going to use those skills to fight aliens or whatever". It's more or less gone away, one of those speculative fiction tropes that did not stand the test of time.

I think it's a great premise though, and should start being applied to other hobbies.

"Ma'am, this regional knitting competition was actually a covert operation to find someone to run this machine of the elder gods we found buried in the desert."

"Congratulations on your silver play button, you are hereby inducted into the Paranormal Defense Force, a subsidiary of Youtube and a branch of the United States military."

"Welcome to the Olympic village. If you've made it this far, you're hereby recruited into the international super soldier program, fighting our enemies at the edge of the Crab Nebula."

[m1ssunderstanding]

do you think john and paul were hooking up in the 70s at all? i know so much abt the mclennon 60s timeline but the 70s is a bit foggier to me

Anything's possible, man. I think the whole seventies are generally portrayed and perceived as much more antagonistic than it actually was. I do think the actual fucking was a lot more sparse than the sixties obviously but the mutual obsession and the closeness and friendship and attraction and desire to be and work together was just as present in the seventies as all the bitterness and miscommunicated and competitiveness and jealously and lawsuits and mind games were.

They were together a lot more than is generally acknowledged in the seventies and I bet they were together a lot more than we know about even. And let's be real, if those two couldn't be lovers they'd never be friends. So it's likely that at least some of the time they fucked.

70: 0% chance of fucking. Paul is really hoping he ods up in Scotland and John is screaming his guts out in an institution. They're not speaking. They don't see each other.

71: they technically could've (John doesn't move to NY until August and Paul would've been in London part of the time) but I doubt it. Someone correct me if we have more information but I think they didn't really see much of each other in this year. John did send Paul the tape of their deca audition with a lovey note for Christmas so things weren't all antagonism, but still very rocky. And I believe he invited Paul to play live with him but Paul wouldn't because of Klein.

72: maybe. In January, Linda and Paul flew to NY to visit John and Yoko at their new place. Then John invited them to play live together and even said Klein wouldn't be involved if Paul didn't want. (I don't know how that would've looked legally) But we have no idea whether Paul responded to that telegram, only that he didn't go and that after that he went on the wings tour of Europe. But John was very much not permanently pissed at him because then we get the elephants memory story of John regularly taking 90+minutes out of a recording session for SINYC to chit chat with Paul on the phone. And the thing is. If they're that friendly, the McCartneys probably visiting John and Yoko on their way to Linda's dad's house. Which being rich and being big on family, they probably did more often than is documented.

73: Probably not. January of this year is when John yelled at Yoko during a party that he wished he was back with Paul. This is also the year (might even be the same party idk) that he got mad at her and grabbed some woman and went into a nearby bedroom and fucked her and everyone knew what was going on etc. Late 73 is the start of the lost weekend. But! Even though emotionally they would've been there imo it was physically impossible because Paul wasn't allowed into the US and John wasn't allowed out. I did hear they tried to meet at the Canada border just to see each other in person, so maybe? That would be something they would do, I don't know.

74: Definitely. As soon as he was legally allowed to, Paul was tapping that ass I guarantee. May acts like there's something she's not allowed to disclose about John and Paul during this time and the agreed upon timeline for their meetings does not match their locations so there's something sneaky going on.

75: Definitely. Again, with May Pang. I definitely recommend her book. It's one of my favorite Beatles books. Paul just randomly knows they've moved into a new apartment (again in NY where Paul and Linda visit all the time anyway) knows their number and shows up to hang out with John. John's so stoked for New Orleans. He's popping out songs left and right, he's giddy and goofy. He's talking about getting a house with May. He can't wait to get that bussy.

76: Probably not. John and Paul remained on good terms despite John not showing up to New Orleans and breaking Paul's tender heart. (His excuse is a baby. Like Paul's not going to eat that up. He was born with milk in his tits I swear.) But even though they're buddies, I have a hard time believing they fucked when they met up in 76 with the whole snl story and all that. While I do actually buy that Linda might've supported them hooking up (we can get into that mess later) I don't think Yoko wanted that, at least at this point in their marriage where they're trying to be a nuclear family with Sean and all that. I really doubt, after she's just taken him back and had his baby, that Yoko would've let him be alone with Paul. So unless John went in disguise to a Wings over America concert -- which was decidedly Not his mental state that year -- it's extremely unlikely.

77: Doubt it. I don't know too much about 77 other than that was the year John wrote many of those extremely love-sick and beautiful and depressing ballads and made self recorded journal entries about not wanting to get out of bed unless it was to jump out the window. Paul also took this year "off" so Linda could have James in peace and he could more actively participate in child rearing and housework while she healed from pregnancy and birth. This was probably the start of the "we just talked about bread and cats and babies" phonecalls. Idk maybe there was some sad->sweet phone sex in there somewhere.

78: Bit more likely. Sean was turning two at this point, and as a mom of a two year old I can tell you two is WAY better than one or zero. So, while John of course had nannies and house keepers to help, I'm sure his mental state still improved with Sean's development. Meanwhile, Paul's London Town was a flop numerically and critically, which probably helped things between them to be honest. Also, this is where I think Yoko was starting to get over John and wasn't around much. So any time the McCartneys were in New York to visit Lee, it's possible.

79: Probably. And this is just me being insane, but when Paul tells interviewers he showed his homemade tapes that would become McCartney 2 to "someone" and that "someone" said 'oh this is your new album' and Paul said 'no I was just messing around' and that "someone" said 'No. That's your new album'. And Paul went, 'yeah you're right' and put it out. I mean, that's just obviously John. Nobody talks to Paul like that except John. Nobody else has the balls and Paul wouldn't respect anyone else that way. So this is where -- I think -- the secret Montauk meetings probably started. We also know Paul and Linda visited John and Yoko again at the end of 79 right before they went to Japan. So it could've happened then too.

80: Definitely. See my post about secret late seventies meetings for an explanation here. If you don't know what I'm talking about, message me or comment or whatever and I'll send it your way:)

[angelxsturns]

— getting older … chris sturniolo

in which … chris comforts you when you tell him you’re scared about the thought of getting older, but your friendship becomes more.

contents … just pure fluff :)

credit to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon idea!

HAPPIER THAN EVER WRITING MARATHON … fic #1

your 21st birthday is coming up, and your anxiety is getting the best of you. everyone around you has everything figured out, but you? you don’t know what you’re doing. you don’t know how you want the rest of your life to play out. you sit next to your best friend, chris, as you think about your future. the same best friend that you’ve been in love with for years, but there’s no way he feels the same. what if you’re stuck on him forever? how will you move on? you don’t notice how tightly you’re holding your breath until chris speaks.

“you okay?”

his voice is quiet. you nod. lie.

“yeah. just tired.”

“y/n, you’ve been tired for weeks. there’s something else going on. talk to me, please.”

he doesn’t say it to accuse you, but it still stings. he knows you way too well. you keep your eyes on the ground, picking at the loose thread on your sleeve. you don’t want to say it. not out loud, but he’s patient. he always has been. the room is too quiet. the kind of quiet that makes your thoughts scream. what if you don’t figure things out? are you gonna be stuck living with your parents? you can’t live with your roommate forever, she’ll move out eventually too. are you ever gonna find love? what about a career? fuck.

“everything’s just…” you sigh. “changing. and i feel like i can’t keep up. i have so many responsibilities. plus, everyone around me knows what path they wanna take, why don’t i?”

chris doesn’t jump in. doesn’t tell you it’s okay or you’re being dramatic or you’ll be fine. he just shifts closer, the side of his leg brushing against yours on the couch. he watches you pull your knees up to your chest as tears threaten to fall from your tired eyes. “chris, i don’t know what to do.” the tears start to slip down your cheeks. chris reaches up and brushes them off your face with his thumb as he pushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

“you’re not supposed to have it all figured out,” he says.

“i know,” you whisper, and you do. but knowing something doesn’t always help you feel it. “but why does everyone else? i feel so lost, like i’m falling behind.”

you look at him then, really look. the way his hair’s still damp from when you two were out in the rain. the way his hoodie sleeves are pulled over his hands. the way he’s already watching you, eyes soft and serious.

“chris?”

he hums, turning his head towards you.

you pull your knees up, arms wrapping around them. “what if i mess everything up?”

chris leans back again, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “then you mess it up. and we figure it out. together.”

you blink at him. “we?”

“yeah, we. i’m not going anywhere.”

you laugh. it’s small, but it’s real. he’s looking at you like he’s thinking about something. like he’s weighing the moment.

“i used to be so excited about getting older, chris,” you say, barely audible. “now i just feel like i’m running out of time to become someone i like.”

he leans in, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

“if it helps, you’re already someone i like,” he says. “like… a lot.”

you huff a breath through your nose before letting out a breathy chuckle. “you’re biased. you’re my best friend, you have to like me.”

he laughs. “nah. i’m just the one who sees you the clearest.”then he mumbles, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear. “plus, i like you more than that.”

your mind is moving a mile a minute. he really does like you like that. if only you knew sooner. “do you mean that, chris?”

he looks up at you again. his eyes are such a beautiful blue. looking into them makes you feel safe. “with everything in me, y/n.”

the silence that follows isn’t heavy like before. it feels warm. safe.

“can i do something?” he asks.

you nod.

he leans in slowly, eyes flicking to yours like he’s still waiting for permission. you tilt your head, your breath catching. he finally he kisses you. soft. steady. like he’s not trying to change anything, just remind you what’s still here.

when you pull apart, you exhale a little easier.

“you’re not alone,” he says, his forehead pressed to yours. “i promise im right here. always.”

you nod again, this time meaning it. “okay.”

and for the first time in weeks, you believe it.

a/n: omg kill me i had no clue what to write this one about. ignore the fact that this is shit 🤧

tags!: @delilahsturniolo @h8aaz @auttysturnz @katiebae333 @ladyatwalmart @izzylovesmatt @stonermattsgf @ineedchrissturniolo @deathst6r @zniyadgaf @whore4chris @matts-hersheys-kisses @courta13 @sturnslux3 @kenah-sturniolo @aaliyah-sturns @whereralltheavacados @riggysworld @d0llworld @mattsdiva

[r0-boat]

Single dad! Solomon part 2

Solomon x child!reader(platonic)

Reader in this case is the child of Solomon whether it be his descendant That was orphaned and he came back to take care of them or his direct child from an unknown partner!

My eyes gaze around the penthouse, a Suite and the most luxurious hotel reserved only for the highest of Tartaros citizens. It is a place where I don't feel like I belong, though it is only temporary since the kings are holding their meeting in Tartaros in the conference room of this very hotel tomorrow.

My child has reached the age to tap into their magical abilities, and I should be elated! But...

"No! Please, child, this isn't for you!" I scream as I rip the knife out of their hand. They must have used their magic to pull it off the counter. Their magical power is... Terrifyingly strong. When I was their age, I could only lift my stuffed toy a few inches off the ground.

But this one... They still have yet to take their first steps, but they're strong enough to use telekinesis to lift things far heavier than a mere stuffed animal.

When I ripped the knife away from their grasping hands, they trembled and screamed as I scolded them. Their magical aura burst forth, exploding the nearby glass around them. My eyes went wide as I scooped them up. I immediately calmed them down before reaching for their pacifier.

"fuck... What am I going to do with you?"

I want to call upon Asmodeus... But I don't want to see that confident, annoying smirk on his face. Nor do I think my hips can handle another night with him.

My sweet baby finally calms as I bring them back to the little play zone I constructed. A soft blanket lay on the floor in a baby pen littered with toys and stuffed animals.

They babble an incoherent sentence as they reach for their stuffed snake, and I smile and respond, "Oh yes, I know! Snakey is excited to see you, too!" My snake familiar, curled up on the other side of the couch, watches with interest and slight horror as they watch my baby grabs and shakes the snake plushie.

Finally a moment of peace as my child begins to settle down and sleep. I let out a sigh as I practically collapse on the devilishly comfortable couch

My head whips around as I hear a knock at the door 'strange? Housekeeping already came by with lunch... ' I'm mutter to myself.

As soon as I open the door Seven chatty and bickering devils barge into the penthouse room. And in an instant my quiet evening was disrupted.

"M-my friends... What are you doing here?" I say with a little less enthusiasm in my voice.

Are you almost choked on my spit as Satan snarls "TIME TO SACRIFICE YOUR CHILD." Leviathan smacks him over the back of the head Satan lets out a growl whipping back to fight back, Beelzebub wheezes.

"Are we not allowed to see the baby human?" Mammon smiles walking in like he owns the place... Because he does.

'baby... human this place isn't a zoo... ' I sigh pinching the bridge of his nose.

I felt my body tense as I watch my less than child safe friends stalk closer to my baby's playpen

(minus Belphegor who is sleeping on the couch and Beelzebub who is lounging next to him playing with the nearest item he picked up.)

It took everything in me to calm my parental instinct screaming at me to rush over to scoop up my child and cradle them protectively against my chest. Especially now as they finally stir from there short-lived nap. I pray to my old friend that they don't wake up grumpy which apparently they haven't heard my calls, for as soon as my sweet babe wakes up You begin to fuss.

"noisy thing aren't they?" Belphegor said propping up his head with his hand.

"probably because of the loud ass Chihuahua currently in the room with us... " Leviathan hissed before his hand reached over the pin to gently interact with you. You made a disapproving noise and smacked his hand away.

Levi with a empty defeated look in his face frozen place holding up his hand inspecting it with a blank look. I swore I never heard Satan life as hard as he did I tried to hold myself back from laughing too.

"It hasn't been that long since I've seen it And it's already grown larger." Lucifer states which I remove the plastic gate with a smile and explain "Oh yes my friend, human children grow quickly. However these years of development are quite important!"

Asmodeus who has been surprisingly and uncharacteristically quiet is now playing with the baby's hands with a tranquil look on his face he picks up the pacifier and gives it to you which you eagerly take. Out of the seven I trust Asmodeus the most so I am not too worried as I continue explaining to Lucifer "I'm expecting for them too take their first steps soon... I'm trying to teach them their first words but I don't think they're interested in listening to me..." I let out a half-hearted chuckle.

Finally Asmodeus does speak up "does that mean I still have time to get this sweet little thing to call me Dada instead?"

"Don't even think about it..." I said firmly, glaring at him. One day... One day, I'll get the courage to punch that man for trying to steal my child.

Lucifer has more to say, and I respond with every question occasionally looking back to the devils interacting with my baby.

Beelzebub has finally moved from the couch trying to play with you with the baby toys and enjoying some of them himself.

Mammon is on that strange screen device talking to himself about more things to spoil you with. As he pulls you into his lap.

Asmodeus is completely enamored, your hand reaches out to touch his hair which he let's you. Satan tries to get your attention with a little noise maker in front of you.

Levi looks on his face sour it looks like he's trying to plan something to steal your attention. I watch as his eyes go wide as he finally things of something. He picks up your snake blush as he gets onto the floor using his hand to puppeteer it making it move and wiggle even making little hissing sounds.

Your face lights up as you squeal and giggle more babbling. Leviathan looks like the happiest devil in the world as he continues what he's doing. The annoyed look on Asmodeus's face was purely priceless. As Satan follows suit... Though a little more violent as he tries to fight the snake with the object in his hand.

I will never forgive that man if he teaches my child to start hitting people.

I only turn my eyes away for a minute as Lucifer gives me advice on how to baby prove certain items after I told him about your budding magical abilities.

When I look back I see that the kings have set up a little puppet stage. You're seated on the blanket floor as you watch The Kings using Your stuffed animals is puppets talking in silly little voices. Of course devil's being... Well devils immediately start puppeteering topics a little too eh... Advanced for a baby to understand.

At least they're not talking about anything sexual or too violent.... Though however I did catch Beelzebub saying "I'll beat you up! This is what you get for Fu-ah! I mean... Stealing my wife!"

I appreciate the effort...

Suddenly All the kings that weren't Lucifer were making the stuffed animals move and talking in silly voices trying to get your attention. Of course Levi who had your beloved snake plushie was getting more attention than the other Kings. Which started an argument... As Leviathan stood up with Your snake plushie gripped in his hand as he got into the argument You reached out your little hands grasping for your plushie. When I started to walk over my eyes went wide.

It was in slow motion when I saw your hand press against your blanket and your feet pushing on the ground. One Foot stepping clumsily in front of the other You grabbed on too Leviathan's shirt for support tugging it as you reach for your stuffy.

Asmodeus was... Pissed. Knowing that he wasn't the one who made you take your first steps I'm sure that my holes will have to hear about it later. But then when you opened your mouth my heart stopped

"Aaaah! Bitch!" You yelled.

My soul left my body as the entire penthouse was silent for the longest 5 seconds I've ever experienced.

I don't think my soul came back as the entire room erupted with uncontrolled laughter.

"THEY CALLED YOU A BITCH! HAHAHA THAT'S THE FUNNIEST SHIT I'VE EVER WITNESSED! "

"NOT THE BABY CALLING YOU A BITCH LEVI!

"They must really not like you huh~? Oh too bad...~"

"I wonder where they heard that word from."

"I've never been so proud!"

And thus the kings were banned from seeing my child for 4 months...