#Founding Father Justin

[probablygayattorneys]

I didn’t remember this particular plot point in Unwound Future, but… hoo boy am I having A LOT of feelings returning to it now, after playing Mystery Room, knowing that Alfendi went through very much of the same thing.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Fight Back

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: angst, talk of being physically abused by a parent, scarring and branding because of the abuse

Request by anon: Could you do where there reader is a part of the Bau and the unsub is kidnapping and killing girls who look like her and it turned out it is her abusive father and when the team finds him the reader and him a a full fight and she gets him back for all the abuse she had to go through

Summary: A case brings up a past you’d rather much forget but haven’t moved on from. A past so traumatic that you have no choice but to take matters into your own hands.

Square Filled: make it look like an accident for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You enjoy traveling to different parts of the country for cases because you enjoy indulging in different cultures and trying new foods. Though, nothing beats being at home. Virginia PD has a case they requested your help on, and you love you can drive home at the end of the day instead of staying in a hotel room.

Detective Banks is already at the scene of a cliff where the body of Justine Frank was located. She was found naked by some hikers who called it in as soon as they got cell service. You and Spencer were tasked to meet with the detective who shakes your hand upon arrival.

“Thank you for coming. I didn’t have anyone touch her until I knew you were done.”

“Good choice. Thank you.” Upon first glance and ignoring the fact that she’s naked, you think she could have landed here after a bad tumble off the cliff. “Detective, why call us out here? Surely your men can handle this one, no?”

“There are four more just like her. We thought it was an accident at first, but more than three is a pattern. We’re stumped.”

Spencer leans down to inspect the body closer with gloved hands. He touches the underside of her wrist and notices fresh wounds.

“Rope burns. She was bound.”

“Was she bound when she went off the cliff?”

We seem to think so,” Detective Banks answers, “but the ME will be able to determine that better than I can.”

“You say it’s a pattern. What makes you think it is?” you ask.

“When one woman shows up, another woman is reported missing. Based on that, it’s safe to assume he already has another victim.”

You’re about to leave when you notice something on Justine’s back. You grab a glove and kneel next to her body to get a closer look. You move her hair to the side and notice a mark on her shoulder blade.

“What is it?” Spencer asks.

“There’s a mark here. I’m not sure if it’s a mark sustained in the fall or if she had it before. I think the rocks and tree branches scratched it up a bit.”

Spencer runs his finger over the mark and frowns. “It’s raised. Like a brand.”

You take out your work phone and snap a picture of the mark so that you can analyze it later. Once done, you and Spencer head back to the police station to meet up with the rest of the team. Hotch and Emily just got back from the ME’s office at the same time you and Spencer got back.

“Did you find anything?” you ask as you walk into the conference room.

“All four victims had ligature marks around their wrists most likely caused by ropes, but the ME says the wounds are much older from when they were found.”

“They were probably bound when they were being thrown over the cliffs, right?”

“Could be or they were bound while being held.”

Spencer gathers the pictures of all five women and pins them to the bulletin board along with their names, a few crime scene photos, and other important details.

“Would you look at that? They look similar,” you point out. “Our unsub has a type.”

Derek dials Penelope and patches her through the phone on the desk so everyone can hear her.

“Hey dollface, ready to work some magic for me?” Derek grins.

“Challenge me, you beautiful behavioral analyst,” she giggles.

“We’re looking for a connection with the victims. Did they know each other? Run in the same circle? Go to the same grocery store? Anything you can see.”

“Even the hidden stuff. Uno momento.”

“If they went to the same kinds of stores, we could be looking at hundreds of employees and even more customers,” you say.

“Let’s hope they didn’t go to the same store, then,” Rossi chuckles.

“A connection they had. They all came from different circles and socioeconomic backgrounds, but they all have one thing in common. They all had different work done on their house with the same contracting company,” Penelope says.

“Where are they located?” Emily asks and grabs a pen and pad.

“Sorry, babe, they don’t have an office. Everything is done through a PO box. It’s more of a mom-and-pop contracting company than a big business. There is only a handful of employees who all live in different parts of the state, and I mean I can count them all on one hand. Addresses are already sent.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Derek hangs up the phone. “Looks like we’re splitting up.”

You and Spencer. Derek and JJ. Emily and Rossi. Banks and Hotch. Four different employees, four different groups. You and Spencer pull up to the house but you don’t get out just yet.

“Are you okay?”

“Something doesn’t feel right with this case. Something is eating at you, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Everyone has a case that gets to them. I know I have a lot.”

“It’s more than just getting to me. There was something familiar about the mark on Justine’s body. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just paranoid.”

You and Spencer get out of the car and walk up the porch steps to the front door. You knock twice, and a middle-aged balding man answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m Agent Y/N and this is Dr. Reid. We’re with the FBI. May we ask you a few questions?”

“What is this about?”

“We’re investigating a few murders, and one of the leads happens to take us to the contracting company you’re employed with.”

The man steps out and closes the door behind him. “Sorry, my wife and daughter are sleeping. They’re sick with the flu, and I don’t want to wake them. What do you need to know?”

“Where were you on the week of October 14th?”

“At home with my family. They can’t seem to shake his flu. We had our pediatrician come over to check on poor Lily.”

You take out the pictures of the victims and show them to him. “Do you know any of these women?”

“I know her.” He points to Destiny Ray, the second victim. “She called my company for a roof repair. I’m sorry, am I in trouble?”

“No, you’re not. We’re just trying to establish a timeline. Who gets the assignments?”

“My boss.”

“Who is your boss?”

“I don’t know,” he says shyly.

“You don’t know who you work for?” Spencer asks. “How did you get the job?”

“I saw an ad on Craigslist because I was desperate for work. I just got laid off from my other job and I’d have taken anything at that point. I was supposed to meet with my boss but after one text, he hired me. We did all the paperwork online, and he sent me money orders after every job. I go to the bank. They’re legit money orders. Whenever there is a job, he texts me or the other three employees.”

“May we see some of the messages from your boss?”

“Sure.”

He takes out his phone and pulls up the messages. Spencer gets Penelope on the phone and reads the phone number back to her, but no luck. It’s a burner phone. If you had to guess, his boss is the unsub. Your phone rings and you step off to the side to answer Hotch’s call.”

“Yeah, Hotch?”

“There’s been another body. You and Reid are closer.”

“We’re on it.” You hang up and turn to the man. “Thank you for your help. Please call us if you remember anything else.”

You hand the man your card before you leave with Spencer. Detective Banks is already on the scene when you get there. Like with Justine, this new victim was found at the bottom of a cliff. This cliff is much smaller than the last one, and she isn’t naked. Only her shirt is torn to pieces from falling over rocks and sharp branches.

“Her name is Kaylee Robinson. A mountain biker found her not that long ago.”

“That was quick. He didn’t even wait a day before killing another woman.”

You grab some gloves and kneel next to the body. You move the tattered shirt away from her shoulder blade to see if the mark on Justine is just a mark or if it’s on all of them. You don’t know why you do this. Something is telling you to. Because Kaylee’s clothes protected her body, the mark wasn’t ruined by nature.

You gasp in horror when you see the mark for what it truly is.

“What is it?”

“I need to see the other bodies.”

You don’t want to say anything just in case if you’re wrong about this. If you’re not, you have a much bigger problem on your hands. You and Spencer leave Detective Banks at the scene to go to the ME who still has the other four victims’ bodies.

“You’re freaking me out, Y/N. What did you see?”

“Hold on. I need to check something.” With Spencer’s help, you lift all four victims so you can examine the shoulder blades. Just as you feared, there is the same mark on each of them. “Oh, this is bad.”

“What is?”

“Every victim has a mark on their shoulder blade. It’s a brand as if it was caused by a hot poker or a branding machine. Justine’s mark was mangled from the fall, but it was there. I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

You turn away from Spencer in shame and pull down your shirt to expose your shoulder blade. Right there, on the top, is the same branding mark.

“On me.” You face Spencer but refuse to look in his eyes. “My father put it there. He’s the one who burned it into my skin, and I know he’s burned it into theirs.”

“Your father? I never knew that. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I tell my boyfriend that my father used to abuse me? I was ashamed and I still am. I don’t want to be. I’ve put this behind me.”

“You know we have to tell the team, right?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

You’d hope to keep this side of your past a secret from everyone but who knew your father would do such a thing like this? You’re quiet the rest of the ride back to the station and when you walk into the police station.

“I think we found our unsub,” Spencer blurts out.

“I noticed a mark on Justine’s shoulder blade. I thought it was nothing, at first, until Kaylee had one. The same mark. Spencer and I went to the ME’s office because I wanted to see if the others had the same mark on their shoulder blades. They did.”

“What mark?” Emily asks.

You turn and show them the mark on your shoulder. “This mark. My father put it there after a really bad night.” You turn back around. “My father used to beat me and took his anger out on me with cigarettes. Fortunately, those marks have healed but he didn’t like that. I got really good at hiding the marks he left on my body when he decided to brand me instead. A mark I couldn’t hide. He made me wear clothes that showed off my shoulders so that everyone knew I belonged to him. The mark is his initials.”

“What happened after that?” JJ asks. “I mean, how did you get away from him?”

“He went to jail on a count of theft. A convenience store. My mother had passed shortly after I was born. I was put into foster care, but I was almost eighteen so I didn’t stay there long. I didn’t know he got out.”

“What’s his name?” Hotch asks.

“Peter Kamps.”

Derek dials Penelope, and you sit down at the table in silence. You had to have seen this coming eventually. It was foolish of you to think you had escaped him forever. Spencer walks behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder for support.

“We have a name. What can you tell me about Peter Kamps with a K.”

“Oh, I can tell you a lot about him. For starters, he has an arrest record that’s a mile long. Save for rape, this guy has done it all. B&E, murder, kidnapping, assault and battery, and even drug charges. He owns a contracting company called Big Al’s Crew that only has four employees. He has one daughter… Oh…”

“It’s okay, Pen, they know,” you say.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.”

“Garcia, do you have an address?”

“I have two. One is a house that’s been in his name even after he went to prison. I guess he had someone looking after it.” All eyes turn to you. “Another is a farming property that he uses for his contracting company and other side businesses. That one is in his name but is behind on payments.”

“If you have his addresses, you’re already too late,” you say. “I bet he’s moved on by now.”

“Let’s go.” You get up but Hotch stops you from following them. “You have to stay here.”

“What?”

“You have a history with him. We can’t afford anything to go wrong.”

You’re left alone in the police station like a child, but maybe it’s for the best. You know they won’t find anything at both places. One, you’ve been taking care of your childhood home which is why he hasn’t lost it yet. Two, you’ve been to the farmhouse plenty of times on your own. They’re not going to find anything there.

But you know where you will find something.

This time, you’re going to do something you should have done a long time ago.

Fight back.

You grab your jacket and leave the station in hopes they left one of the cars behind. Luck is on your side because they did, and you find the keys in the center console. Hotch made it a rule to leave all keys inside the car when not in use because he’s had to deal with a few too many locked cars in the past.

You lied to Spencer.

You’re not over it. You’ve been waiting for this moment the first time he laid his hands on you. You drive out of town and to a desolate neighborhood. The only people who live here are runaways and drug lords. You park in front of a two-story house and get out nervously. You might be ready to finally fight back but you’re nervous as hell. The front door is ajar when you approach it, and you kick open the door slowly and carefully. The house is dark and silent, two things that terrify you.

The flashlight on your gun is the only thing that’s lighting your way as you make your way through the house. The stairs creak when you step on them. If he’s here, he knows you’re here now. Most of the bedrooms are empty without a hiding space big enough to fit someone like your father. The last place you check is the master bedroom which has few furniture pieces in it.

“I was wondering when you would find me.”

You freeze from hearing his voice from behind you. Stay strong, Y/N. He’s not going to win this time. You turn around and face the man responsible for destroying your youth and innocence.

“I did.”

He eyes the gun in your hands. “I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”

“You sick son of a bitch. You killed all those women.”

“Call it substitution for the one I really wanted. You.”

“Yeah, well, I’m bigger now. You can’t break me down this time.”

“We’ll see,” he smirks.

You aim the gun at his head. “I could shoot you right now.”

“But you won’t.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” You lower the weapon and toss it onto the bed. “Guns were never your thing, and I want you to feel me kicking your ass.”

All the classes you took on self-defense amount up to this moment. You were picturing the instructor as your father. You were training for this exact moment. Your father rushes at you but you easily block his attempts to attack. You kick his legs and he crumbles to the ground, and you pounce on him before he can get back up. You wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze as tight as you can, but he’s always been more durable than you are.

He bucks his hips and kicks you off him, and you scramble to get away from him. He will kill you if he gets his hands on you but you’re not going to let that happen. You barely get to your feet when your father grabs you and slams you into the wall. He wraps his arm around your neck in a chokehold and puts his dirty mouth next to your ear. 

“What are you going to do now, little girl?”

“This.”

You push off the wall and use your father as support to basically walk on the wall. When your feet get high above his head, you swing backwards and punch him to the ground. The door is closer than your gun so you don’t even think about turning and sprinting out of the room. 

“You ungrateful little bitch! I’ll kill ya!”

Your father gets to his feet and runs after you. You barely make it to the railing by the stairs when he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back into him. He uses all of his strength and slams your head nose-first into the splintering wooden railing. You crumble to the ground in a moan of pain. You can already taste and smell metal as your mouth and nose fills with blood. Your father pants and stands in front of the railing, looking down at you menacingly. The only thing to light this place is the dim moonlight.

“Have any last words?” he sneers.

“Yeah. I’ll see you in Hell.”

You kick him where the sun doesn't shine, and he doubles over in pain. His face is right in your line of attack, and you kick his face as hard as you can. He stumbles back in pain and trips over an uneven board. He slams into the wooden railing and it cracks under his bulky weight. He shouts in shock as he falls through the railing and down to the first floor.

You jump to your feet and look over the railing to see him impaled on a broken two by four. You move your eyes up slightly and see the front door wide open and your entire team standing there with guns in their hands.

“It was an accident?” you say, unsure of yourself.

The ambulance is called as well as the police. The front door is wide open so you’re able to see right into the house where your father fell. The paramedic is assessing your injuries while you’re staring at your father’s body. The man who tormented you, beat you, branded you, is dead. You killed him and you don’t even care if they arrest you for murder. You’d happily go to jail if it means he’s dead for good.

“You lied to me,” you pull your eyes away from your dad to look at Hotch, “and you disobeyed me.”

“Am I fired?”

“I’m tempted to do it right now.”

“I’m sorry, Hotch, but I’m not sorry I did it. If you were ever abused by someone and then learned you had the power to fight back, you’d understand why I had to do this.”

“My office when we get back.” He turns to leave but pauses. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.”

“I’ll ride with you,” Spencer says when he approaches you.

“Spencer, I’m fine.”

“You dislocated your nose at best. You’re going to the hospital,” the paramedic says.

“Fine,” you chuckle.

“Next time, tell me when you’re going to do something like this, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod and kiss him.

x

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[sanarsi]

Summer 2014

bfd!no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: What happens if you find out you're attracted to your best friend's father? Well, Joel is more than willing to show you that. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader’s in Sarah’s age), best friend’s dad!Joel, protected PIV, fingering, dom!Joel, pet names, dirty talk Wordcount: 5,7k An: A bit of a stepdad vibe idk??? BUT we all had to go through summer 2014 phase so Joel should too ;) Music I worked with: My Love - Justin Timberlake, T.I.

Masterlist

Your friendship with Sarah started in elementary school. Since then, you were inseparable. You always did everything together. Usually at her house because your parents were... quarrelsome. Joel never minded that sometimes you stayed at their place for a week or longer. In fact, he was glad that his daughter had a friend like you. Thanks to you, he stopped spitting in his face that he didn't spend enough time with his princess. That's why, whenever he had time on the weekend, he took you to the movies, bowling or just to eat something unhealthy.

The Millers' house became your second home. Better home. Joel became like a loving father to you, the one that was missing in your real family. You loved cuddling up to his side when you had movie marathons on Fridays.

Years passed, you and Sarah started to grow up. Joel had to face new challenges. Posters of singers covered all the walls in Sarah's room. Makeup kits could be found in every cabinet in the house. Your giggles and squeals would echo when one of your idols released a new song or simply had their picture taken on the street.

Your teenage years really took their toll on him. He would drive you to concerts, wait with you in line for hours for a stupid autograph from a guy with a bleached smile and too much gel in his hair. Sometimes he was getting tired of you two. But as long as he saw the wide smiles on your faces, he was able to grit his teeth and fight the backache and headaches you gave him.

Or maybe he was just getting old.

Then came the period of your love conquests. He couldn't count how many times he had to sit with each of you on the couch and hug you, whispering comforting words about how you were perfect and boys were stupid. And you could have your heart broken every month, but he was always able to fix you.

Everything in your life fell into place in such a way, that you didn't introduce your first serious boyfriend to your parents. You introduced him to Joel. You invited him to dinner at the Millers' house so Joel could judge whether he liked the candidate you had chosen for yourself. Joel became a real parent to you. And he couldn't have been happier. A single father, not of one princess, but of two.

You were the ones who gave him breakfast in bed on Father's Day. You were the ones who took him to his favorite restaurant on his birthday. You were the ones who judged whether he looked good when he started dating.

And finally, you both grew up. You started going to work to earn money for the holidays. You started going out with friends and coming back drunk in the middle of the night. You were starting to be young women. You were no longer his little princesses. But despite that, Joel still treated you like that.

He still made you waffles with rainbow sprinkles on Saturday mornings. He still bought you your favorite ice cream. He still watched cartoons with you in the evenings. You were a family.

But it wasn't always rosy.

When you started growing up, you started arguing with him. About coming home too late, about forgetting to turn off the lights in the garage again, about him being too protective. It even got to the point where you told him that he had no right to pick on you for anything because he wasn't your father. It hurt him, but he knew you were right.

He wasn't your father and you weren't his daughter.

But you still called him when you didn't know something. You had to inform him when you decided to stay the night at your family home. He was the arms in which you cried, apologizing for what you were. And he never even thought to remind you of the words that ever hurt him.

But over time, everything started to change. You and Sarah were in your twenties when the first problems started. Her proposal that you should move out together to another state, which ended in a huge row on Joel's part. Then the fact that you were accepted to two different universities, a few hours away from each other. Then Sarah's boyfriend who came to ask her father for her hand in marriage, which ended in a row because it turned out that he had cheated on her.

Adult problems started, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle.

That's why, when you were twenty-five, you still lived together with Joel and went on vacations together. And everyone was fine with that kind of life.

Joel loved having you around and couldn't imagine staying alone in that big house. Sarah stopped wanting to move to the other end of the country because she found the girl of her dreams.

And then there was you.

You just didn't want to lose the family you had.

And you were all happy that everything was the way it was.

"Let's go sunbathing!" you shouted with a wide smile as you entered the house.

Joel was just pouring himself his third cup of coffee that day and Sarah was watching some series while eating chips. You looked around seeing the lack of energy in their movements.

"What's wrong with you two? Why aren't you packing?" you asked frowning and entered the kitchen putting the bag of groceries on the table.

Joel glanced at you with those tired eyes of his and took a sip of coffee then without a word he started rummaging through the groceries you had made. You turned to Sarah who ignored the fact that you had returned home. You ran up to her and jumped over the back of the sofa landing next to her. She squealed in fear almost throwing her snacks and looked at you murderously. You ignored it, smiling widely.

"I've already packed," she announced going back to watching the crappy soap opera they put on every afternoon.

"Joel?" you asked glancing at him. He looked up at you, clearly having no idea what you were talking about because he was too busy reading the ingredients of some sweet drink.

"I packed him," Sarah said. Joel swallowed the coffee he had in his mouth and straightened up.

"Oh, yeah, she packed me," he nodded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah roll her eyes and you wanted to burst out laughing.

"Okay, so it's just me who’s left," you announced, clapping your hands and quickly getting up from the sofa and heading towards the stairs. "What swimsuits did you pack??!" you shouted already halfway to your room.

There was silence for a moment.

"I took pink and purple!" Sarah replied, to which you nodded to yourself and ran to your room to pack for your few days of vacation full of sun, beach and sweet drinks.

The few hours of driving were a curse on Joel's back. Plus your singing was finally starting to give him a migraine.

"I love you, but please," he grimaced glancing at each of you, "just shut up," he said to which you rolled your eyes and started talking about bullshit.

You had barely made it to the hotel before you had already dragged Joel out for a swim. The waves lapped against the shore as he watched you run through the water for another hour, splashing and diving. He finally allowed himself to relax, basking in the sun on a lounger and sipping a cold drink.

"Joel!" you shouted running out of the water. He lifted his sunglasses and watched as you ran towards him, all wet with a wide smile.

"What?" he asked when you were close enough. Panting heavily, you stood next to him, cold drops of water fall on his heated skin, making him grimace.

"Move, take some pictures of us because it's a nice sunset." You nodded towards the sky, where pink clouds were starting to form. Joel looked in that direction and then at Sarah, who was squeezing water out of her hair.

"I don't want to," he mumbled and fell back onto the lounger, closing his eyes. It didn't take a moment before he felt the cold water on his stomach. He inhaled loudly, straightening up like a string while you were already squealing towards the ocean.

"Move, man!" you shouted in his direction. Joel rolled his eyes and stood up with a groan. He quickly drank the rest of his drink and took his phone, moving towards you.

"Okay girls, your professional photographer has arrived," he said spreading his hands with a proud smile, standing near you. You both looked at him and then at each other and burst out laughing. His smile disappeared. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, dad. You know we love you and your great skills in every field," Sarah said amused. Joel rolled his eyes and turned on the camera on his phone. You both immediately got into position smiling widely as he started taking pictures of you. A dozen or so clicks later he grimaced looking at the phone screen.

"Your outfits are terribly overexposing the picture," he commented with a grimace.

"That's the point, dad," Sarah rolled her eyes.

"It has to be neon and colourful," you added. Joel raised his hands in surrender.

"Easy, not both at once or I won't be able to defend myself," he said with amusement and went back to taking pictures of you until the sky changed from pink to dark blue.

Then you all went back to the hotel eating ice cream on the way. Even Joel went wild and chose three scoops for himself.

At the hotel, he finally got a moment of peace from you when you were lost in your phones. You were both lying in bed dressed in his old t-shirts and shorts.

Joel sat in front of the TV long after you both fell asleep. Only then, he allow himself to have one last strong drink before bed.

He was on vacation too, so he could go wild, right?

In the middle of the night, your bladder made its presence known and the few drinks you had during the day wanted to come out. With a groan, you got up, looking around the room. Sarah was sleeping, bent in every direction on her bed, which was a normal sight. Barely lifting your feet from the ground, you left the room and headed down the dark hallway. Your eyes were still glued shut from sleep and you didn't feel like opening them.

You stood in front of the bathroom door and noticed that a beam of light was stretching across the floor. You frowned and knocked on the door, but no one answered. Joel probably forgot to turn off the light before he went to sleep. Nothing new.

You went inside, wincing at the sudden brightness. The hot steam and the sound of the water turning on immediately made it clear to you that Joel hadn't forgotten to turn off the light.

"I just have to pee," you said, making yourself known.

"Fuck me," Joel cursed, scared, and immediately peeked his head out from behind the shower curtain. But you were already half-conscious, sitting on the toilet. "I swear I'll have a heart attack one day," he muttered, turning off the water and reaching for a towel.

You rested your chin on your hand, almost falling asleep while peeing. Joel opened the curtain and stepped out of the shower, all wet. A navy blue towel wrapped low on his hips as he stood in front of the mirror with his back to you. You opened one eyelid, looking in his direction.

"Maybe in twenty years when you're older," you mumbled and reached for the paper. Joel glanced at you in the mirror and without a word began to brush his teeth.

You stood up pulling up your shorts and flushed the toilet. With a sleepy grimace you walked up to him and pushed yourself between him and the sink to wash your hands. He rolled his eyes moving to the side and leaned his hip against the cabinet.

"You should be proud of yourself," you said, catching his attention.

"Hm?" he mumbled indistinctly continuing to brush his teeth. You shook the water off your hands and wiped the rest on your shirt. You moved away from the sink and looked at him scanning his entire body.

"Because you look fuckin’ amazing for your age," you said and turned around walking towards the door. You showed him a thumbs up, opening the door. "Keep it up, man." You disappeared behind the door and Joel couldn't hold back a quiet snort at your words.

The next day Joel made a mistake. He let himself be dragged out shopping. And it wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that he followed you around for an hour straight. With everything you bought.

And you were all unconcerned, drinking another Starbucks coffee and gossiping about every handsome boy who passed by and glanced at you, even for a split second. Being a father was hard sometimes. And it was harder when a boy approached one of you, asking for your phone number. Then his fatherly instincts kicked him hard in the ass.

He was like your bodyguard. He scared everyone away while drawing the eyes of mommies at the same time. He can't count the number of times that married women have sent him flirtatious glances. At first he didn't complain, but over time it began to annoy him. He was too busy with your running asses.

"You'll never talk me into this again," he groaned, throwing all the bags on the ground by the door and moving to pour yourself something cold to drink.

And you, as if nothing had happened, took all the things and started to look through everything with a giggle. Joel rolled his eyes, taking a can of cola from the fridge and moving towards you, falling heavily onto the sofa next to you. He watched everything that flew through your hands from the side. He didn't even bother to comment on the fact that you started to make a strange fashion show, trying on all the colorful cloths. He watched some movie in silence and only spoke when you asked for his opinion on a given thing.

"And this one?" you asked, standing in a neon pink swimsuit that had several strings intertwining your waist. Sarah immediately nodded eagerly. Your gaze fell on Joel, waiting for his answer. He raised his hand and with his finger he ordered you to turn around. You turned around your axis and looked at him again. He gave a thumbs up and then went back to watching the movie.

In the evening, you were sitting on the sofa with Joel and browsing through an app on your phone. Joel was watching the news while drinking whiskey. You were both waiting for Sarah to come back from her mission to find a present for her girlfriend. You were lying with your legs on his thighs and with a grimace you scrolled through another post with a photo of your friends.

"Joel," you said suddenly. He mumbled in response without taking his eyes off the TV. "Is there something wrong with me?" you asked, writing an overly nice comment under a photo of your friends in love.

Joel frowned at your question and looked at you.

"What do you mean?"

You sighed and locked your phone, placing it on your chest. You were silent for a moment, wondering how you were going to put your sentence together.

"I mean..." you started, staring at the wall next to you to focus. "I'm twenty-five and I haven't even been on a stupid date in a few years," you explained. Joel immediately understood what you meant and sighed quietly.

"You're fine," he assured, but when he saw your lost look he immediately understood that this was no small matter in that very moment. "Okay..." he sighed, setting his drink on the table next to him. "Come here."

He patted his chest and didn't have to wait even a few seconds when you appeared at his side, curling up and snuggling into his chest. He hugged you tightly, pulling you even closer to him.

"I'm listening."

"My friends are getting married, having kids, even buying a fuckin’ houses," you started immediately. "And what am I doing? No relationship. Boring work. Sitting on strangers' hands."

Joel frowned at your words and looked down at you.

"Strangers?" he repeated, confused.

"Yeah, I mean..." you sighed heavily. "I ran away from my family to be with you two and I never even asked if it bothered you." Joel shook his head, not sure if he understood you correctly.

He immediately understood that you must be having a bad day and he couldn't just tell you that you've gotten stupider with age.

“Baby, you know I’m happy you’re with us. No matter how many times we fight, how many times you throw the trash in the wrong bin, you’ll still be part of the family,” he said, running his fingers through your hair. There was silence, broken only by the quiet sounds of the TV. For a moment, you stared blindly at the watch on his wrist.

“Will you promise me something?” you asked quietly.

“Anything, sweet girl.”

You snuggled closer to his chest so he immediately hugged you tighter.

"When Sarah moves out with her girlfriend, you'll be the only one left," you said letting him know something that was inevitable. His heart beat faster at the thought that his daughter would soon start her own life. "Will you promise me, that no matter what happens, we'll always be able to count on each other?" you asked looking up at him with those innocent eyes of yours.

Joel smiled warmly and moved closer placing a strong kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes staying in that moment for as long as you can.

"No matter what," he whispered against your skin and kissed you again in the same place.

You smiled at each other when he pulled away from you. And for a moment you felt strange. As if some switch in your mind turned on. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his warm chocolate irises that were the color of honey in the sun. Joel continued to gently stroke your hair looking at you with that caring glint in his eye. Your breathing quickened as the silence between you began to drag on long enough for him to notice.

You swallowed hard as something else began to appear in his gaze. The warmth began to turn into seriousness and something else. You weren't even aware of it when your face slowly began to approach his until your breath began to fan his lips. Joel didn't move a millimeter, watching carefully. He didn't move away or move closer.

He didn't do anything, until your gaze fell on his lips and his cock twitched.

Then the door to the apartment opened with a bang.

You jumped on the spot, scared, and you both looked towards the main door. Joel tightened his arm around your shoulders, not letting you move. Your heart jumped into your throat when you heard Sarah's quiet murmurs before the door closed behind her.

You immediately returned to your previous position and buried your cheek in his chest as if you wanted to hide from the world.

"Public transport in this city is a joke," Sarah mumbled as she entered the small living room and threw her bag on the armchair next to the sofa. She sighed heavily looking at the program that was playing on the TV and sent a delayed glance your way. "What about her?" she frowned as she watched you snuggle into Joel's side.

"She's being dramatic because her friends got married," he explained staring at the TV. He was acting completely normal while your heart was going through something close to a heart attack at the time.

"So nothing new," she shrugged with a stupid smile.

"Fuck you," you burst out laughing glancing at her.

Sarah smiled wider before she walked closer and sat down on the other side of Joel and snuggled into his side as well. He sighed loudly and hugged his daughter.

"My two grown up girls need to cuddle up to their old man? Sweet," he commented amusedly, then he placed a kiss on Sarah's head and then yours.

But he kept his lips on yours much longer.

You were lying on the bed, tossing and turning. You tried to fall asleep but your mind decided to recall every single detail of this evening. You glanced at the clock on the dresser and growled when you saw that it was the middle of the night and you still hadn't slept a wink. You saw no point in further suffering. There was no point in even trying to fall asleep.

You sighed as you got up and quietly left the room, going to the kitchen. You poured yourself some tap water and leaned against the counter, calmly taking sips. You started looking around at all the cabinets and walls to somehow kill time. Finally, you looked towards the living room and almost spat out the water from your mouth.

"Fuck," you cursed, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest at the sight of Joel who was sitting in the dark on the sofa and looking in your direction.

You put your hand on your raging heart and looked at him with wide eyes.

"What the fuck Joel?!" you shouted in a whisper, putting the glass in the sink and slowly walking around the kitchen island. "What are you doing here?" you asked, standing by the sofa.

You noticed that he was holding a glass of what was probably his favorite alcohol. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, at which you rolled your eyes, sighing heavily.

"How much did you drink?" You raised an eyebrow, but he remained silent, just looking at you. You watched him, waiting for any reaction from him, but he was like a stone. You sighed, opening your mouth to continue, but this time he interrupted you.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked, unsettling you. You blinked a few times, your lips parted because you didn't expect such a question.

"I couldn't sleep," you explained indifferently, shrugging your shoulders.

"Why?" he asked immediately in a serious tone. This tone made you straighten up a bit more.

"It's too hot."

"Too hot," he repeated, nodding and looking away from you. He raised his glass and took a sip of whiskey. Silence fell between you. You nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the strange atmosphere that had settled between you. It was safest to retreat now.

"Okay, I'm going-"

"And do you know why I can't sleep?" he interrupted you, staring blankly into space. You felt your insides tighten. You probably didn't want to know the answer to that question. Not knowing seemed like a much safer option now.

"Why?"

Why couldn't your mouth work with your mind?

Joel snorted humorlessly and slowly moved his gaze to you.

"Because my daughter's best friend, who is like a daughter to me, looked at me in a way she shouldn't," he said seriously and took another sip of whiskey. You were silent, staring at him with a lost look. Your heart was already in your throat and cold sweat was running down your back.

Fuck. You didn't want to know that answer.

"Joel, listen-"

"And you know what's the worst of it all?" he interrupted you, frowning again. You fell silent, not wanting to upset him. He leaned down to put the glass on the table. "That I liked it more than I should have," he said, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the remaining alcohol in the glass.

Your stomach did a somersault when you realized the meaning of his words. You could barely catch your breath as his gaze slowly traveled down your body to your face.

He liked it.

"So go back to your room if you don't want me to do something we'll both regret," he added warningly.

You felt incredibly hot and oxygen suddenly became a luxury item. You stood there as if frozen, clenching your thighs tightly as his gaze traveled down your body.

He looked down, shaking his head in disbelief, and after a moment a quiet snort left his lips. The silence around you was only interrupted by your heavy breathing.

"Fuck it," he growled under his breath before he got up from the sofa in the blink of an eye and found himself in front of you. His lips crashed painfully against yours, making you groan. The breath in your lungs froze as his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him. You dug your nails into his arms as he began to push against you.

His soft lips contrasted with his rough stubble. The taste of whiskey appeared on your tongue as he crept into your mouth. Butterflies formed in your stomach, yielding to his every move.

The mature man's lips tasted completely different.

They were tart. Rough. Strong.

Better.

Joel sensed that you weren't moving away from him. You weren't trying to free yourself. So his hands appeared on your waist. Big masculine hands.

He slid down, tightening his fingers on your hips, and tugged you, pulling you closer. You moaned, overwhelmed by everything. His cock quivered, which you felt on your stomach.

"Joel…" you whispered, but his kisses silenced you.

"One time. No one will know," he answered your unasked question.

His hands tightened on your body, making his hard cock dig more into your stomach. You moaned, melting under his touch. Joel took this as your consent and in one move, he pushed you onto the sofa. You fell with your whole body onto the soft material, out of breath. For a moment, you stared at the ceiling, but the sound of the package being torn apart caught your attention.

You lifted your head, catching your gaze on Joel, who was slowly putting a condom on his cock. Your pulse quickened as you realized that this was all real.

Or maybe you were dreaming.

But you didn't want to wake up then.

Your head fell back down as you tried to control your racing heart. You almost squealed when his fingers caught the waistband of your shorts and in one movement he pulled them down your hips. You shivered feeling the couch give way under his weight and after a moment his warm hands spread your thighs just so he could be there.

You locked eyes as he hovered over you and you could tell right away that you were both equally terrified by what was happening. But it seemed like it was too late to forget everything. Not when his hand slid down to your pussy.

"Not a word," he whispered warningly and ran his fingers over your leaking hole.

You moaned closing your eyes and his hand immediately found your lips. You looked at him with wide eyes as he looked at you so intensely that you felt smaller than you were.

"Shut up," this time he growled. His fingers ran over your slit again spreading all the moisture. Your moan died in his hand and that satisfied him. "You're so fucking wet," he growled frowning as he massaged your clit and a moment later he plunged two fingers inside you. You arched your back, moaning louder. “Shhh.”

He began to slowly fuck you with his fingers, watching as you tilted your head back further and further each time he curled them inside you.

“Yes baby, just like that,” he whispered under his breath as he felt you tighten around his fingers and your hips push themselves toward him. His two fingers were more than enough to make you feel filled.

They were fuckin’ thick and your tight hole didn't need more to come. You arched your back, moaning into his hand.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, speeding up the movements of his fingers to prolong your orgasm. You arched under him as the wet sound of how fast he pushed his fingers into you echoed around the room.

Only when you started to pull away from the over-simulation, he remove his fingers from you and take his hand from your mouth. You gasped for air, starting to pant heavily, but he didn't give you even half a minute to catch your breath. You felt something delicate slide over your wet entrance.

You purred impatiently when he ran his cock along the entire length of your slit and positioned himself at the entrance again. You already knew it was thick. You shifted anxiously, preparing yourself for the fact that it could hurt.

"Relax because I don't want my dick to fall off," he said feeling you clench so hard around nothing that he couldn't even enter you. You shivered and took a deep breath relaxing all your muscles at once.

And then Joel immediately entered you halfway with a moan. And you didn't even have time to moan because his hand was on your mouth again.

"So fucking tight," he groaned looking down as his dick disappeared more and more inside you. You almost squealed when he pushed into you with a strong movement to the very end.

He didn't even give you a chance to get used to his size because he immediately started moving his hips. Back and forth every time panting heavily. His large hand completely drowned out your moans leaving you helpless.

"I fuckin’ hate condoms," he growled and sped up thrusting into you. He looked at your face noticing the tears that were gathering at the ends of your eyes. He smiled leaning closer. "I bet, without that latex, your pussy would feel like heaven."

You cried into his hand, and he only smiled wider and began thrusting into you harder, going as deep as he could. Until the fucking couch began to squeak with every movement.

He groaned throatily closing his eyes for a moment when he felt you tighten around him. And then his eyes met yours again. But he was looking at you differently.

"Do you know how your pink panties cut into that little cunt?" he growled, speeding up the movements of his hips.

The first tears fell from your eyes. You felt nothing but the weight of his body on yours and how his cock was bringing you closer and closer to fulfillment at a deadly pace.

"You might as well go naked on that fucking beach. I wouldn't see the difference," he groaned, burying his face in your neck and digging his fingers harder into your cheeks. "Oh fuck," he panted feeling how quickly you were able to bring him to such a state.

You felt his lips begin to place wet kisses on your neck and cheek until your eyes met again.

"You gonna come?" he asked, panting heavily. He had to be sure that you would come from his cock only. Otherwise he would have to try harder, but that was the least of his problems.

You nodded, looking at him with watery eyes. Joel smiled widely, pushing his cock deeper into you.

"Good girl," he purred, placing another kiss on your cheek before he removed his hand from your mouth. You inhaled and moaned when his lips immediately attacked yours in a deep kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer, so that all your moans were lost in his mouth. Only now did he feel what a mess you were.

Your tongue trembled with each kiss, just like his cock in your pussy. His throaty moans echoed between your legs until you started to tremble. Joel hummed in pleasure as he felt you tighten around him more and more.

You chased your orgasm and he happily sped up his movements for you. Until you finally came with a broken squeal. Waves of orgasm ran through your body, loosening and tightening all your muscles over and over again.

Joel stopped, unable to move from how hard you were clenching around him. He growled as his cock quivered in response and he needed nothing more. He only pushed his hips harder against yours, coming with a throaty groan. Your contractions drew everything he could give you from him.

Your kisses slowly became slower and slower as you both came down from your peaks, breathing heavily. Joel pulled away, burying his face in your neck and trying to calm your racing heart. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, breathing slower and slower.

"You know what?" you asked in a whisper, breaking the silence.

"What?" he mumbled, his bass echoing through your body with a shiver.

"I'm on pills," you announced.

Silence fell. A soft smile bloomed on your lips as Joel lifted himself up on his hands to look at you. His skin was glistening with sweat.

“Good that you’re saying it now,” he retorted, rolling his eyes, and you snorted quietly in amusement.

Joel couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips and he leaned down, gently connecting your lips. His tongue grazed yours before he pulled away again.

“Then there has to be one more one time”he whispered against your lips and nuzzled your nose. “I need to feel that pussy without any barriers,” he purred and connected your lips again.

[typhlonectes]

Species of Ichthyosaur Is Largest Known Marine Reptile at 80 Feet Long

A father and daughter duo found the jawbone of the species and the research team named the new marine reptile species Latin for 'giant fish lizard of the Severn.'

A father and daughter, searching for fossils on an English beach, found more than they expected: the jawbone of what may be the largest known marine reptile. Scientists estimate that the giant ichthyosaur, from which the jawbone came, measured 80 feet long and lived during the late Triassic period. A report in the journal PLOS details the find. When Justin Reynolds and Ruby Reynolds (then 11) were combing the beach at Somerset in 2020 and came upon a giant bone chunk, they knew they were on to something. “When Ruby and I found the first two pieces we were very excited as we realized that this was something important and unusual,” said Reynolds in a release. So they contacted Dean Lomax, a University of Manchester paleontologist...

Read more: https://www.discovermagazine.com/the-sciences/species-of-ichthyosaur-is-largest-known-marine-reptile-at-80-feet-long

[chrissdollie]

little sister sturniolo hcs C:

chris 100% found ways to trick you into doing things for him

ex: “if you don’t clean my room, that monster you saw on tv is gonna come into YOUR room!”

well.. he made you do everything except for his chores

you always did that, and not just for him. you love doing little things around the house with your headphones in. so after eating, he’d definitely leave his dishes in the sink because he knows you’ll wash them

walking trevor with matt :(

u scared away justin’s first girlfriend when he brought her home for dinner simply because you didn’t like her

u were probably one of the first ppl nick told when he was still in the closet

ur reaction wasn’t surprising at all, nick had a feeling u already knew. u merely shrugged, “i know.” 

one year for halloween, you all were the group from the wizard of oz EEEK

matt was tin man, nick was the scarecrow, chris was the cowardly lion, and you were dorothy! (puppy trevor was put inside your basket)

matt helping u with ur homework !!

he was so gentle too, you never went to nick for help again

u were your parents little princess ! therefore you were definitely the most spoilt. meaning that whenever chris, matt, nick, or justin wanted something from mom or dad, they asked you to ask for it

that ended by the time you were 7. you went up to jimmy and exclaimed, “matt wants to go to the arcade!” 

as you got older, you began keeping tabs on everyone. you had blackmail on each of your siblings and had no problem using it against them

“can you drive me to the mall?” *sassy face* “no, yn. ask your friends for a ride.”  “i have a video of you helping chris cheat on a test-” “when do you wanna leave?”

i see the triplets totally playing pranks on u when u were too little to recognize who was who. they’d purposefully switch up their styles to confuse you (matt started feeling bad when u got too frustrated and told the other two to go back to normal)

IF the triplets decide to put you on their channel, everybody is so in love with u!! especially ur accent omg. since they moved to LA, they hadn’t really heard much of your brothers accents but yours sounds like your father’s without a doubt!

[fortunapre]

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ♫ Lando Norris x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ♫ You Lando can’t stay away from each other, no matter how bad you should be running for the hills.

This is heavily inspired by the song “Run for the Hills” by Tate McRae

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 16+, use of Y/n, 3rd Person POV

♪ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 ♪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ♪ 𝐋𝐍𝟒 ♪ 𝟐.𝟓𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

Did this idea also come from the possibility that Lando (or his car) might be featured in Tate’s new music video? yes. Yes, it did.

Never gonna ever be more than just something that’s fucking me up,

Should run for the hills, should run for the hills

Should be running for the hills the way you touch me.

This dilemma you’re in, is nothing new. Partners with benefits? Friends with benefits? Sure, but it's a bit more complicated than Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake. 

If anyone, meaning anyone, found out about your relationship (if you could even call it that), you’d both be fired. Ended. Then in your case, probably disowned. 

Across from the table, your secret sits a few seats away, chatting with another member of the team. Occasionally, you make eye contact and its never casual glances because his eyes hold a type of want that makes your skin burn. Each time your eyes meet, it’s like a secret signal. His hazel eyes hold promises that you swear could end wars. Or start them. Whatever he wanted, probably. 

No matter how much tension and stolen glances passed between you two, nothing could ever come of it tonight. He, Lando Norris, is a McLaren Formula One racing driver, and you are untouchable to him. Because you are the daughter of a rich man, a rich man who happens to be the leading sponsor of the McLaren Racing team. Your father’s business is so large, that if any reporter, coworker, friend, or teammate caught wind of an interpersonal relationship between you and Lando, he’d be ruined. Nothing stops the media from taking lies and twisting them for any audience that’ll listen. 

It’s been about six months of team dinners and other events since your family became a McLaren business partner. Six months where you’ve gotten way too close to Lando. Originally, you listened to your father’s warnings about dating anyone McLaren-related, but with Lando, you couldn’t help yourself.

The flirting became more than playful, and the careful touches became purposeful. Up until last night, the most you two had ever physically interacted is small brushes of your hands in crowded rooms, or that one time you swear he grazed your leg while sitting in a conference. Then last night, at the hotel your family and him were conveniently sharing, you let your needs win. You went to his room because you couldn’t sleep and wanted company at first, but then he invited you to his room's patio hot tub. 

Hotels, late nights, hands through my hair,

Long talks, red eyes, clothes everywhere…

You talked a bit, kissed a bit, kissed more, explored each other, but never did anything serious. Eventually, you both shared the realization that your family might come looking for you, so you stopped. However, ever since you left him last night, you’ve only been able to think about his hands and his lips. Little did you know, he was stuck on the same thing.

You both wanted it, and were willing to throw everything out of the window just to be in each other's reach. So, what was stopping you?

That was the same question that was running through both you and Lando’s mind tonight.

‘What’s stopping us?’ Your eyes tried to communicate to him, while tilting your head a bit. 

He let a smirk slip at first, but then immediately hid it, hoping no one caught him. If anyone followed his eyesight, they’d easily catch you two looking at each other with more fire than the hibachi stove next to you. 

You ate silently and talked to other business moguls around the table, trying your hardest to ignore how Lando was practically undressing you with his eyes. 

“So, Y/N, how’s life treating you?” A man who is two seats away from you changed the subject from baseball and directed it to you. He was wearing a classic pinstripe 3-piece suit that looked like it was going to pop open any second. He had an air that absolutely radiated money, or perhaps that was just the cologne that’s been burning your nose all night. 

You twitched your nose at the smell, then plastered a fake smile when looking at the man. “As good as it can get, I guess.” You answered him and took a look around the table, seeing how everybody has stopped to listen to your conversation. 

There were some people that you recognized, and some that you didn’t. (And one person that you wished you knew everything about.) Some people wore nice clothing, and others were dressed in casual or orange. 

“Good, good,” the man added while stabbing a piece of steak, swirling it in brown sauce on his plate. He shoveled the food into his mouth and continued nodding like he was still going to speak. He waved his fork in your direction, as he chewed. At first, he looked like he would never swallow the food. Finally, with what looked like a painful gulp, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “You, uh, getting into the family business anytime soon?”

“Sorry?” I asked, slightly confused with his wording. I was already in the family business, and I was sure he already knew that.

“Excuse me,” he began again. “I only meant to ask if you had put any thought into properly naming yourself an owner of your family’s company.” 

You were at an age where most business owners started inheriting the business, but your father was as healthy as ever, so there was no need to think about that. Maybe the man was looking for an opening to join your family’s company? 

“Oh, um, I’ve already prepared myself to inherit the business when the time comes, if that’s what you're referring to, but my place as a business representative is serving me well enough at the moment.”

The man nodded again, shoveled more meat into his mouth, nodded more, then gulped. “Ahhh, I see.” 

His words shouldn’t have meant anything rash, but his tone was so sour that I almost flinched. Anyone that wasn’t in the industry wouldn’t think twice about his wording, but when you’ve been surrounded by people like him all of your life, you catch the real meanings. In high class motorsport business, people rarely ever say what they actually mean, so you have to learn to understand their underlying cues. 

For example, someone could say “your business has been running pretty consistently recently,” when they really mean “I know you're going into debt nana nana boo boo.”

This man said “Ahhh… I see,” in a way that sounded very impolite.

“Sorry, but it almost sounded like you were doubting my daughter’s future.” Your father spoke up, cutting off the man who was speaking to you. Your father must have also caught on to the man’s tone. The man shook his head quickly and looked around the table, trying to explain. Everyone’s attention was still on our conversation. 

Even Lando’s. Especially Lando’s.

Lando looked like he wasn’t enjoying the man’s accusations, eyes almost predatory. 

You looked away from him, and back to the blubbering man. “No, no, no, no, no, sir. You must understand. I was only curious whether your daughter’s recent affairs had affected the re-”

“Affairs?” My father spoke louder. He didn’t look at me for clarification, he just looked angrier at the man. 

“Well, I mean, everybody’s noticed her and the McLaren racer becoming uncomfortable close for a business relationship.” The man looked both nervous, yet proud of his words. 

Your eyes widened. You were not expecting this man to know anything about this. You were mortified, safe to say. He had just outed you and Lando to a table full of people you were keeping your relationship the most secret from. 

“Get out.” Your dad stood from his chair quickly, asserting dominance, and showing his power. Two people from your father’s side ushered the man out quickly.

You were thankful for your father’s actions, but also terrified of how he might react to this new drama floating around the table currently.

Whispers clouded the table: “Y/N and Lando? No… maybe Oscar?” “You've seen them, right?” “No way!”

You looked at your father, as he sat back down. You wanted to explain, but he spoke first. 

“Honey, I know he was just trying to get under your skin. I never liked him anyways.” Your father spoke, trying to comfort you. “Plus, I know you are smart, and you and that Mclaren boy’s relationship is nothing but friendly business.”

Instead of fighting him, you let him believe that lie. “Yes. Yes, just friendly business, Father.”

He smiled with agreement and went back to the dinner. 

Your mind was still reeling with the events. Hopefully everyone else believes the same thing as your father. Hopefully no one knew the truth: that your's and Lando’s relationship was anything but professional or business-like.

The dinner had reached its end very soon after that altercation. Now, you and your family were pulling up to the hotel. As soon as you stepped out of the limo, you caught sight of a familiar body standing near you.

“Sorry.” you heard Lando speak up, facing your father. “I was wondering if I could speak to Y/n.” Lando asked very confidently, like he his request was nothing out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, your father looked at Lando with one of the most intimidating frowns you’ve ever seen. 

You touched your father’s arm lightly, signaling that he could trust you. So, your father let you go, reluctantly, but he trusted you. Maybe he shouldn’t. 

Lando waited until you were out of sight from your family, around a corridor, when he grabbed your hand and dragged you into a nearby room. You can’t say you didn’t expect this.

“Lando- what?” You tried to reason that your family could be waiting but Lando cut you off fast. 

His lips met yours with force and determination. You let whatever you were going to say die into a small moan against his mouth. 

Your mind was running again with scary thoughts of your father catching you two, or maybe even Lando’s boss. However, those thoughts instantly fizzled away when Lando slipped his arm around your waist, bringing your bodies close.

You were flush against each other, sharing body heat. Lando being so close was the exact remedy to any and all anxiety-inducing thoughts. You were this close before, sure, but this time felt so much more intimate.

It’s almost like the tension had built up from the dinner, and this small feeling of body-near-body made that dam break. Now tension and lust were washing over the two of you in a tidal wave. 

However strong your feelings for Lando were building, his are easily doubled.

Lando has been waiting to touch again ever since last night. The insatiable need to be near you, feel your body, hear those whispering noises you make when you kiss, was incredible. If it wasn’t irrational, he could have pulled you away during the dinner. Recently, that line between rational and irrational has been blurring more and more every time he’s near you.

He, of course, got the same warning as you about workplace relationships. Actually, he was basically threatened and scolded, because Zak couldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him when it comes to romantic relationships. Or keeping anything professional. 

He knows how worried you are about your business, and what bad publicity could do to it’s reputation. So, despite how bad he wants to ignore the warnings, he goes along with it to keep you safe.

In general, the entire relationship is just a god-awful idea. You should have stopped as soon as it started, but after last night…

Maybe the danger’s covered by the thrill,

‘Cause I know I should be running for the hills.

The way you touch me…

You tilted your head up slightly, deepening the kiss. He felt your submission and licked a stripe across your bottom lip.

Anytime you two have been intimate, kissing has been a key part. At first you were disappointed when Lando kept teasing your lips instead of your body, but the longer you kissed him, the more you never wanted to stop. Lando was a phenomenal kisser, and he knew that. 

The kiss moved from soft to hot and frenzied. You felt his tongue trace along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in and he quickly dominated your mouth. Anything Lando did with the kiss was insanely sexy, like he knew he could do no wrong.

You broke away, hoping to only catch your breath and go back to his lips, but he pulled away.

“Wait, Y/n. Listen, I’m sorry. I know how us being seen together could create a whole lot of shit…” He was silent for a bit. His words brought back the anxiety pounding in your mind.

You were worried he was rejecting you, but his next words were unexpected. 

“But, god, Y/N. I need you. I couldn’t fucking care less about your father’s rules or the media. I know we should stop. Trust me, I’ve tried mentally slapping myself anytime I think about you.” He started moving back to kiss you. “But no matter how hard I try to stay away, you keep pulling me back in.” He said the last part against your lips. 

All you could do was breathe harder. Of course you agreed with him, but no words were coming out of your mouth. You wanted to spill all of your feelings just as he did, but your thoughts were just fog at the moment. Perhaps, if you’d actually even said anything, it wouldn’t be comprehensive at all.

So instead you settled by pulling him closer by his tie and smiling. He must have gotten the hint because he dove back into the kiss. 

After you both finally express your feelings, nothing should come between your relationship anymore right? 

Except, like it was described at the beginning, this is much more complicated. 

Days later, you still weren’t dating. Actually, you didn’t know if you would ever date Lando. 

Either way, again and again, you still meet up in dark corridors and hotel rooms. 

“I need you, Y/N.” Lando told you after you tried to end it out of worry that you’d be caught.

“Lando…” However hard you tried to stop seeing him, your body fought against you. “Alright, but we need to be especially quiet. Please…”

Don’t tease me, and keep me around like it’s easy,

When you know deep down that it’s

Never gonna ever be us.

You were like magnets that could never be apart for too long. No, you were never going to be able to publicly date, and this secret partners-with-benefits ordeal was insanely risky. But, like a hobby that turns into an obsession, or a flame that turns into a bonfire: A little taste was never enough. 

I get obsessive with you.

All that I want is attention from you

Break into my life and break all my rules, it's true…

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BTW IF YOU WANT TO BE INCLUDED, TELL ME!! :))

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[uyuforu]

Astrology Predictions for Celebrities for 2024-2025

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart II

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart III

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart IV

₊ ⊹ ALLEGEDLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY₊ ⊹

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email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

Those Predictions are based on an Astrology Tool called Solar Return Chart.

✧₊⁺ Selena Gomez is probably going to move in with a lover this year. She can also have something that can transform her relationship, perhaps a proposal. Something is upgrading. She can also collaborate with some people when it comes to her career, but focus will be more on her family and personal side.

✧₊⁺ Timothée Chalamet is probably going to confuse people will his love life this year. Though, this will either be intended, or it will be because he is confused about what he wants himself. Will continue to be active in his acting career, but will also more rest probably this year. Though something can change in his relationship. He can end a relationship and start a new one, with someone who's hard working and perhaps also in the acting field.

✧₊⁺ Taylor Swift is going to work very hard on a new project, perhaps an album. This year is more about hard work, focus and busy schedule than actually releasing something. Potential hardships in her reputation coming too. Will also be more secret about her relationship. If she breaks up with current bf, she will have a secret relationship. Will feel more hated this year, and she can also have a fight with a friend.

✧₊⁺ Justin Bieber is going to be a father for sure. The baby is very important to him. But it seems like he will feel away from his wife? OR, he will feel spiritually connected to her. Not sure exactly, but JB is going to be more alone this year, perhaps also reflecting a lot on his life. Perhaps while reflecting more he will realize a lot of things when it comes to his role as a father and as a husband. He can also turn more into religion this year.

✧₊⁺ Hailey Baldwin Bieber is going to have hardships in her love life. She can be more private because of the baby, wanting more space from the public to spend more time with her baby. I think there is something changing deeply in her home life. Though she can post and talk a lot about how it feels like to be a mother and how it changed her life. A loooot of content on that. Being a mother will be her main thing this year.

✧₊⁺ Dua Lipa is also going to have more recognition this year, she can also have more success for a project, but she has a good reputation. She can also be more public about a relationship, officially going out together. There is a positive change coming. She is more focus on work this year.

✧₊⁺ Sabrina Carpenter is going to be more expressive about her relationship, perhaps also show her couple more. But she will def be out and more popular again. An era in her career can end this year too.

✧₊⁺ Billie Eilish is either going to be in a relationship, or in a sort of situationship. There will be struggles in it, or perhaps she will try again with someone from the past. OR it's someone she wanted to try with for a while and it's now happening. It can also inspire her in her career, or fast they will appear together. Is going to be more out and more active this year in her career. Also a big success coming!

✧₊⁺ Olivia Rodrigo isn't going to be too active this year. Perhaps is preparing a new project. She can also be more showy about her relationship, and talk more about it. Beginning of 2025, she can start to put out more a project in her career. It's going to be talked about a lot, but in a good way. A successful project. Her current love life can inspire her.

✧₊⁺ Rihanna nothing to say, she is veryyyy into staying with her family. Not sure she will get pregnant again this year, if it happens (still have 6 months in until her next solar return), it can be sudden. But im not sure tbh. I think she just loves to be a mother and is currently embracing this role. Next year she can talk she wants more babies. Or that she just loves to be a mom.

✧₊⁺ Ariana Grande is going to be very protective this year about her relationship. I think they can actually continue deeper in it, something will change, and perhaps people will also view the couple differently too. OR they can break up. If they do, she will stay single and reflect a lot on her own about it. I think she can also be truly inspire by her life experience to make more career projects and contents.

✧₊⁺ Zendaya will have a year focus on her career, success can be there. A good year for relationship too. She has chances to get engaged, but! It's a possibility, it can also mean it's just a good year overall for her love life. She can also post more about her lover, or just also post about the good news if it happens.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[scorpioriesling]

May I please politely beg for a fic based on the Eris bc post you did? It was so good and I’d love to see him confront Rhys + co and taking care/loving reader

I’m the “Bad Guy”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: some graphic-ish injury

Summary: Eris Vanserra; he was your… what? Enemy? Ally? Both? Sort of — at least, that’s what Rhysand says, and whatever your High Lord says, goes. But, Eris saw you for more than anyone in your court ever could, and deep down you knew he had one more title, reserved for just you: true love. What happens when you’re in danger, and he’s the first and only one you go running to?

SR’s Note: Yes you absolutely can have a fic based on Eris��� HC in this post. No need to beg — I’m happy to oblige. Here it is, I hope you like it. xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The fire crackled and burned in the fireplace, embers creating a soft glow in the darkened sitting room. Eris was alone, lounging on the sofa in the Forest House, his newest read in hand. He liked spending his time this way — alone, reading, warm. He felt… content.

Little did he know, you’d quite enjoyed your evenings the same way.

Sure, he knew you shared an interest in reading. That’s where he usually found you when he’d visit the Night Court — shelf combing in the library of the House of Wind; curled in a chair, a different book to read each time he would see you again; sometimes, you’d even be caught talking about your favorite ones with Nesta. You quite enjoyed her, as well as her company and character, as she was very honest and real with you.

Yet, another thing in you’d shared in common.

On this particular evening though, the sun had already long set and the stars were sprinkling the sky when Eris felt his body tense on instinct. He had suddenly lost interest in what he was reading when he heard a commotion coming from outside. Well, not a commotion, but rather some sort of… crying. Whimpering, rather. He straightened in his chair, straining his ears to hear what was happening beyond the windows of the Forest House.

Usually, when this happened, it was the work of Beron — some cruel or unusual punishment that Eris had learned long ago to stay out of. Recently, tensions were running high with the Night Court; though Eris was still secretly meeting with them, it didn’t change that his father wanted to sever all ties with the solar court completely.

But this… this time, it was different.

“Please… please…”

Eris’ heartstrings pulled in his chest as he strained to listen, wanting to make any excuse or reason for his ears to be deceiving him.

But, he knew in his heart, they were not.

In an instant, he’d snapped his novel shut and was racing toward the front door. He threw it open, rounding the corner of the house and bolting for the enormous hedge maze in the backyard of the grounds. He wasn’t sure exactly what had come over him; on any other day, he’d leave you to suffer as he would the other Night Court Inner Circle members. But the squeeze of barbed wire around his heart propelled him forward.

He knew you were here. He knew it was you that needed him.

It was an odd feeling, tearing around corners in search of the one woman he’d thought over and over about torturing. He’d thought of you crying. He’d thought about how he could hurt you. Did that make him a bad person? Maybe. So be it. You weren’t perfect either. Over the last few years, he’d even thought of how he’d kill you himself — just, once, he’d thought of this. It was during a meeting with the entire Inner Circle, of course; Eris was present. He’d arrived early and heard you, again, talking to Nesta about your ideas on strategy and negotiation. Though you were speaking of ideas that would affect him directly, he didn’t care — the ideas were good. Nesta wasn’t shy to give credit where it was due, either.

But, none of that mattered because during the meeting, you hadn’t opened your mouth once or said a word about your ideas. You’d tried to interject, actually — but Rhysand was quick to silence you.

But how did you handle that?

Like a good pet would. You sat, and stayed silent. Just like you always did. You’d never challenge your High Lord, oh Cauldron no — he could just simply use you as a doormat, and it wouldn’t matter.

Maybe that’s what pissed Eris off so badly.

He knew what you were capable of, what you had to offer, and what you were worth; but it seemed that most of the Inner Circle didn’t bat an eye at you, especially Rhys, whom you bowed to and that was that. Your talents could be used for so much more, but you always stayed within the guidelines in which you were allowed.

“Please… Eris…someone help me…”

Eyes straining in the night, Eris followed your pained cries until he found you in the middle of the maze. You were slumped against the large marble water fountain, breathing unevenly as blood stained your neck. Drying crimson flakes dirtied your usually vibrant tendrils, and your hands braced over your abdomen, hot tears creating tracks down your dirtied face.

"Oh my Gods..." He rushed to you, and you peered up at him in desperation. His heart split in two, seeing you crumpled and hurt in front of him as he took in your appearance in full.

But, his sadness turned very quickly, to anger. You laid, panting and in pain, in his court, on his grounds. No explanation, no one coming to help you. He felt... violent.

He knelt down to your level, leaning in and stretching a hand out to trail over your face, registering the blood pouring from inside your lip. He then reached up to move your hair from your forehead -- a huge gash the cause for the ever growing maroon pool you two were in.

Well, one of the causes. Your hands still covered your stomach.

He was fuming, hands trembling as he tried to stay gentle with you, but absolute rage filled his every vein at how this could have happened to you.

Who could've let this happen to you.

"Eris, I..." you coughed, a few blood-tainted drops landing on the stone pathway below. "I... I didn't mean to... this is the first place I thought of..." another loud sob wretched from you, and Eris cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over the bone. You relaxed a bit at his touch, though he usually appeared so tense and malicious. When he looked into your eyes again, his whiskey irises were dulled to a deep bourbon, and his jaw was clenched tight.

"Come with me."

He stood then and wrapped his arms around your knees and lower back, scooping you up and carrying you as carefully as he could back to his wing of the Forest House. You let out a few small yelps here and there as the searing pain in your stomach was getting to be too much to handle.

"Please, stay with me Y/N," he pleaded, looking down at you sorrowfully. Your usually soft eyes met his, and his wire-wrapped heart strained once more. He’d felt as though he was carrying a small, injured deer -- that is what you were in his eyes. A gentle, wise, little doe. His little doe.

Whatever he’d been feeling before, it was long gone. The only thoughts clouding his mind were ones of keeping you safe, helping you in every way he could, and providing you with everything you could need.

Little did he realize, you just needed him. Wasn’t that why you were there in the first place?

When Eris had finally made it inside, he sat you gently on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and ran to the washroom. It wasn’t long before he’d returned, presenting a small wet cloth in one hand and taking your chin between his fingers kindly in the other. He began to wipe away the trailing stains all over your delicate skin, trying so hard to stay gentle with you; trying to replicate the softness you'd always offerred others. He felt better seeing you relax into his touch a bit as he continued to work.

But, that's one thing you didn't have in common. He wasn't soft, or sweet like you. It was one thing he pretended to hate; he “hated” your kindness to everyone, even his father, of all people. He “hated” your soft voice, one he wasn’t used to hearing all that often. He also “hated” your gentle loving nature — so, so much he “hated” it.

He tried to steady his breathing, gazing into your round, watery eyes to attempt to ground his senses and avoid thinking about punishing whoever hurt you like this. It only caused him more agony, watching as you tried to hold back your tears. Wiping away the last of the blood from your hairline, he dropped his head for a moment, raking a hand through his hair.

“I can’t stall for you any longer, love.” He said softly. Your stomach muscles continued to tense under your palms, and you watched as he rolled a clean cloth between his hands.

"I’m going to put this,” he held up the rolled cloth.

“In here," he tucked it into your open mouth. You closed your mouth over it, so usually defiant towards your “sworn enemy”, but, really...

You'd do anything he asked of you.

His hands moved to cover your bloody ones, still clutching at your stomach.

"Y/N... you’re going to have to move your hands." He says. Your eyes screw shut as you groan, fresh pain raging from the wound in your abdomen. Eris sighs, looking to you with pleading eyes.

“Please, Y/N… you have to help me help you.” His thumbs stroke over your knuckles, now covered in your blood — and you begin to remove your hands shakily. He breathes a sharp gasp as he sees your laceration in full, and shakes his head slowly. He sits back on his knees, positioning himself between yours.

"Hold onto me." He says. You look to him in confusion, and he places your clammy fingers on his shoulders. One of his hands lingers on yours for a moment, and he pressed the inside of your wrist to his lips. He looks back to you, eyes already asking for forgiveness.

"I'll be honest,” he begins. “I've thought about hurting you before, as you've hurt me," he says, voice deep with ... something. Something you couldn't place. You could barely focus on his words as your mind started to fog over, your vision clouding with black spots. "...but never like this."

He sighs one last time, a hand coming into view between your knees, his fingers ablaze with his gift of fire. You immediately sit up, or try to anyway -- a sob racks your chest, muffled by the cloth, and Eris holds you down, hand splayed over your sternum.

"Hold onto me." He says again, his tone warning. His fingers meets your bubbling would, flames searing the skin as a scream tears through your dry, cracked throat, only quieted by the cloth you’re biting down on. Your eyes blow wide, and you squirm under his hold. He looks at you with regret, pulling back for just a moment — only to press heat onto your would again within seconds.

Your hands claw at the collar of his white button down, red already smeared over most of it. He huffs an apologetic sigh, continuing to carterize your open would, flames stinging and burning your sensitive flesh.

Over. Over. Over again.

You tilt your head back, the familiar weightless feeling becoming all too apparent. You felt it coming; you were going to black out. His once-white collar begins to slip from your fingers, and your eyes meet his one last time before glazing over as you slink into darkness.

: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

Soft streams of sunlight bathe the room in a golden glow when you open your eyes again. You register the feeling of comfy, loose-fitting pants amid the cool, mahogany silk sheets you’re enveloped in. You blink a few times, and reach a hand up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

When your eyes adjust, you realize what’s so different; everything. The sun is illuminating the room from a window. A window across this… bedroom, with a stoked fireplace and four poster oak bed. A bed with mahogany sheets, a stark contrast to your usual lilac ones at home — as well as the teakwood bookshelf along the far wall. At least those are familiar, most of the titles. One novel is laying on the window seat; it’s one you’d just finished last week.

Then, the realization hits you; you were in Eris' room.

You try to sit up, but wince in pain and end up laying back down, head flopping against the plush pillows under your head. Your hands instinctively reach toward your stomach, tugging at the hem of the tank top you donned. A thick bandage was wrapped around your midsection, concealing your abdominal injury. Your mind wandered to last night, what you'd endured, winnowing to the Autumn Court, the burning...

Within moments, Eris appeared in the doorway, concern threading his brows together as he looks you up and down.

"Is everything alright?" In three steps, he’s made it to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it. He pulls the covers up, tucking them around you in comfort. You shake your head in honesty, silver lining your eyes as they meet his.

He knew you’d be honest with him. Yet, another thing he “hated” about you.

"I... they took me last night." You manage to choke out. Eris readjusts to face you, scooting closer and reaching out a hand to stroke through your hair. He bites on his lower lip, eyes searching yours.

"Who. Who took you Y/N." He says. It sounds like more of a demand than a question.

You shake your head, a tear slipping free as you remember being kidnapped from your bed and tossed onto the mountainside. The feeling of freezing snow under your knees, the jagged rocks slicing into your palms would only be the beginning of the pain you'd endure before somehow winnowing away.

"It was... they wanted me to partake in the..." you swallow, the lump in your throat only growing as another tear slips free. Usually, he’d be the type to taunt you for crying or appearing so weak, but Eris only brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping your tears away.

"The fucking Blood Rite?" He bites out. Anger radiates off of him, the small fire in the fireplace near the window growing with each passing second. The muscle in his jaw feathers as his eyes train on yours, and you nod in confirmation. His other hand rests on yours clasped atop the sheets, and you can’t help but register the heat he is emitting, even from the small touch.

He sighs, hanging his head low and shaking it slowly. When he makes eye contact again, he takes your hands reassuringly in his. “Y/N, I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who. Did. This. To you.” You can practically see the flames dancing in his irises, and you lean forward an inch, almost nose to nose with him. His strong scent of cinnamon and burnt timber wafts through your senses, and you feel a small tug on your heartstrings.

“Eris, look it’s not anyone’s fault, okay? I mean, well, it is…” you begin with a sigh, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. “I was sleeping over at the House of Wind with Nesta and Gwyn and Emerie, and… oh, the guys were there too, for most of the night. Cassian and Azriel.” You explain. He nods for you to continue.

“Well, we were just having a nice time and when we went to sleep, I don’t know I just… one minute I was asleep and the next, I had a mask on my eyes and someone was… uh…. mm… uhm covering my mouth and… Nesta was screaming-“ you hadn’t noticed your hands beginning to shake, until Eris laced his fingers with yours. You took a steadying breath, but the shaking only subsided a little as you still remembered the horrors of the night prior.

“So… Cassian and Azriel. They were supposed to be watching you.” Eris says evenly. You look at him incredulously.

“Watching? Oh, hardly. I mean, we’re not eight years old, Eris.” You explain. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek and contemplating your words. You can practically see the gears turning in that beautiful little head.

“It seems a little chat is in order.” He chides. Your eyes widen, and your hand braces on his bicep. He glances down at your touch, then back to your face again, nose still just inches from yours.

“No! Uh… I mean, no. Please.” You say. “They haven’t done anything wrong, and-“

“I’d hardly say allowing for you to be kidnapped for the damned Blood Rite is an inexcusable offense.” He interrupts. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Andddd, I shouldn’t have been allowed to winnow at the Blood Rite. Anyone found using their powers or plotting to escape the rite once it’s begun is…” you trail off. He nods. He knows; it’s an executable offense. Bringing any of this to attention could perhaps put you in more danger.

He didn’t care. He was prepared to do anything to save you, just as he’d done the night before. He definitely wouldn’t allow some dirty Illyrians get their hands on you again, either.

“How were you able to winnow, anyway? I thought powers weren’t able to be used on Romiel during the Blood Rite,” he asks, quirking a brow. You shrug, wincing and regretting the movement.

“I don’t know… maybe, since no one knows I am capable of winnowing, they didn’t think it’d be necessary to shield those abilities from me? I don’t know Eris, I don’t know how all this works.” You say exasterbatedly, absentmindedly wiping at your nose again. Eris only seems to become more troubled by your response.

“So… they didn’t teach you to winnow, you just… did it… and they didn’t think you could do anything with your powers, so much so that no one bothered to remove them?” His voice pitches, and you nod in agreement.

“I suppose.” He slips his hand from yours, standing and straightening his shirt. He moves toward the door, not uttering another word.

“Eris, where are you-“

“Y/N, trust me; I’m only doing you justice. You’ll thank me later, dove.”

: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

“What are you doing out of bed?”

You hear him before you see him. When you slowly turn from your spot at the stovetop, Eris is leaned against the doorframe, a cocky grin on his lips, brow raised in question. You roll your eyes, the only movement you can do at normal speed without tensing in pain.

“Well, smart guy,” you say. “You ran off and left me for half the day, and didn’t feed me. So, I forced myself up and… went on a little scavenger hunt. To the kitchen.” You say simply. He scoffs and strides over to you, stopping to lean against the counter behind you. You turn to face him, and he glances at the bandage peeking out from below your top.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, no tone or condescension evident in his voice. You cautiously take his hand in yours, and his eyes gaze at you in silent question. You press his palm to your side, and smile softly at him. All those years thinking he was your enemy; all those years thinking he would truly hurt you; all those years suppressing what you knew was true all along. Maybe he wasn’t the bad guy that everyone made him out to be. You knew he was a good male.

“I'm stronger than you thought, hmm?” You say with a wink. His eyes soften, and a little smile plays on his lips as his other hand braces your other hip bone. He pulls you close, so close your pelvis is touching his upper thighs. You peer up at him through your lashes as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“You’ve always been the strongest woman I’ve known.”

You blush at his words, finally accepting what you’ve been running from all along; you care for Eris. Truly, you did. Why else would you winnow here, of all places? Why else would you feel a familiar tug on your heart strings when he was around?

You cared.

And, Cauldron behold; he did too.

“And… you had to show me how strong you could be today?” You ask, your tone dipping low. Eris rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“All I did was go over there, and demand to know why the hell they’d allow for you to be kidnapped in your own home-“ You gasp and swat his arm lightly.

“Eris!” You scold. He grins down at you, taking your face in his hands and looking at you lovingly.

“Maybe I should irritate you more… look at you, taking initiative and putting me in my place.” He chuckles. Your face reddens, and you stare at him wide-eyed as he runs his knuckles down your jaw, his cool silver ring easing the burning hot you felt beneath your cheek.

“Maybe you should do what you're suppos-“ Eris cuts you off with a tsk tsk tsk, pulling you in close and finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You part your lips, fingers caressing his jaw and threading through his hair as his lips dance with yours. His fingers trail from your cheek down to your waist, holding you close as one hand runs up and down your side; grabbing firmly when your teeth graze his bottom lip. He pulls away, breathless as he supplies you a feline grin.

“Now, where is the fun in that?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (12/15) - Part I

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @queenshikongo3

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

The flash of cameras filled the studio, each click capturing a moment in time. Lewis stood before the backdrop, his posture relaxed yet commanding, the very essence of the man GQ had dubbed a "global creative force."

"That's it, Lewis! Give us that winning smile," the photographer called out, and Lewis obliged, though his mind was miles away.

As he shifted poses, he couldn't help but think of Rorie. Her decision to step back from social media had been a breath of fresh air for both of them, even if it meant she was juggling her sponsorship duties more carefully. But lately, with Martin's increased attempts at contact and the whole Athena situation, he'd noticed a familiar tension creeping back into her shoulders.

"Alright, let's take five," the photographer announced, and Lewis gratefully stepped away from the lights.

He fished out his phone, smiling at the lock screen - a candid shot of Rorie and Lyric laughing at a beach in Brazil. No new messages. He debated calling her but decided against it. She was probably in the middle of her individual therapy session.

Their decision to return to both individual and couples therapy had been mutual. After Bahrain and the whirlwind that was Saudi Arabia, they'd both felt the need for a neutral space to unpack everything. The races so far had been a mixed bag - P7 in Bahrain, and a frustrating P9 in Jeddah. But it was the off-track drama that was really taking its toll.

"Alright, Lewis, let's try something a bit more serious for this shot," the photographer instructed, and Lewis complied. His brow furrowed naturally as he considered the complexity of their current situation.

The lawsuit with Deja...and Martin.

The man was persistent, he'd give him that, but after years of absence, what right did Martin have to suddenly play the doting father? And now, with Athena in the picture, it all felt like some elaborately orchestrated play.

"Perfect! That's the look we want," the photographer exclaimed, clearly misinterpreting Lewis's brooding expression as artistic intensity.

As the shoot continued, Lewis found himself longing for the simplicity of the racetrack. There, at least, he knew the rules, understood the game. Off-track, in the messy world of family drama and public scrutiny, the lines were far less clear.

His phone buzzed in his pocket - a text from Rorie:

"Session went well. Lot to talk about. See you at couples therapy later?"

A smile tugged at his lips as he quickly typed back:

"Wouldn't miss it. Love you."

As he pocketed his phone and returned to the shoot, Lewis felt a renewed sense of determination. It was going to be one hell of a season, both on and off the track. But then again, when had they ever done things the easy way?

________________________________________________

Lewis hurried into the modern building in central London, its glass facade reflecting the bustling city around it. He took the elevator to the fifth floor, tapping his foot impatiently as it ascended. The corridor was sleek and minimalist, leading to a door marked - Dr. James Bokinni and Dr. Alisha Williams - Family Therapy.

He pushed open the door, immediately spotting Rorie on the plush sofa. Dr. Alisha and Dr. James, the husband-wife team that had been guiding them through their individual and couples therapy, looked up with welcoming smiles.

"Sorry I'm late," Lewis said, slightly out of breath. He crossed the room, bending down to kiss Rorie on the lips. "Traffic was a nightmare. How's Lyric? Everything okay with my mum and Nina?"

Rorie squeezed his hand reassuringly. "He's fine, babe. Your mum said he went down for his nap without a fuss. Nina's got everything under control."

Dr. Alisha, her American accent a stark contrast to her husband's British tones, gestured for Lewis to take a seat. "No worries, Lewis. We were just catching up. Shall we begin?"

As Lewis settled in next to Rorie, he took in the familiar surroundings. The office was a blend of professional and homey, with warm colors and comfortable furnishings that put them at ease. Photos of their doctors' travels adorned the walls, a subtle reminder of their own cross-cultural relationship.

"So," Dr. James began, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement, "it seems like you've had quite an eventful few months since our last session. Where would you like to start?"

Lewis and Rorie exchanged glances. There was so much to unpack - Martin's increased attempts at contact, the sudden appearance of Athena, the ongoing stress of the lawsuit against The Sun and Deja, not to mention their plans to try IVF again.

Rorie took a deep breath. "I guess we should start with the Athena situation. It's... complicated things with Martin."

Lewis nodded, adding, "And it's not just that. It's the timing of it all, you know? With the lawsuit and everything else going on..."

Dr. Alisha leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "It sounds like you're feeling overwhelmed by all these sudden changes. Let's break it down, piece by piece. Rorie, how are you feeling about Athena's appearance in your life?"

Rorie took a deep breath, her fingers intertwining with Lewis's for support. "Honestly? It's a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, I'm curious. There's a part of me that wants to know my siblings, to understand that side of my family. But on the other hand, it feels... I don't know, calculated?"

Dr. James nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "And Lewis, how do you feel about this situation?"

Lewis shifted in his seat. "I'm worried about Rorie. I want to support her, but I can't shake this feeling that there's more to it than just a coincidental meeting. With the lawsuit and Martin suddenly pushing for contact, it all feels like too much at once."

Dr. Alisha leaned back, her gaze moving between the couple. "It's natural to feel overwhelmed and suspicious given the circumstances. Let's talk about boundaries. Have you discussed how you want to proceed with Athena and Martin?"

Rorie shook her head. "We've talked about it, but we haven't really come to a decision. I'm torn between my curiosity and my need to protect our family."

"And the lawsuit," Lewis added. "We can't ignore the fact that any new relationship could potentially complicate things legally."

Dr. James nodded. "That's a valid concern. How do you both feel about seeking legal advice before making any decisions about contact with Athena or Martin?"

The conversation flowed, touching on the complexities of family dynamics, trust issues, and the stress of public scrutiny. As they delved into the topic of trying IVF again, both Lewis and Rorie's voices softened.

"It feels like we're juggling so much," Rorie admitted.

Lewis squeezed her hand. "But it's also something we both want. We can't put our lives on hold because of external pressures."

Dr. Alisha smiled gently. "It sounds like you both have a lot to consider. Remember, there's no rush to make decisions on any of these fronts. Take the time you need to process and communicate with each other."

As the session wound down, Lewis and Rorie felt a mix of exhaustion and relief. They had a long road ahead, but they were facing it together.

"Before we end," Dr. James said, "I want you both to remember something. Despite all these challenges, you're here, working together. That's a strength not every couple has."

Rorie's mind still reeling from the therapy sessions. The individual session had been intense, digging deep into her feelings about Martin, Athena, and the constant pressure of public life. Dr. Alisha had helped her unpack some of the complex emotions swirling around her newfound family, but Rorie still felt unsettled.

The couples therapy had been different - a united front with Lewis, tackling their challenges together. It was comforting, knowing they were on the same page about most things. The IVF discussion had been particularly emotional, but Rorie felt a renewed sense of hope about their future.

The days in London with Lewis's family had been a welcome distraction. Watching Lyric play with his cousins, carefree and giggling, had reminded Rorie of what really mattered.

Now, in Sydney for the Australian Grand Prix, Rorie found herself sitting outside the bathroom door, scrolling through emails while Lyric insisted on "privacy" for his potty time.

"You all done in there, baby?" Rorie called out, peeking her head around the door.

"No, Mama!" came Lyric's determined little voice.

Rorie chuckled, settling back to wait. Suddenly, the hotel room door opened, and Lewis walked in with Spinz and Miles.

Miles grinned at the sight of Rorie camped outside the bathroom. "What's going on here?" Before Rorie could answer, they heard a flush. Miles's smile widened knowingly. "Little man using the potty?"

The bathroom door swung open, revealing a proud Lyric. "Me big," he declared, pulling up his pants.

"Oh wow…sorry, big man," Miles laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"Uh…wash your hands, Mr. Big Man," Rorie reminded, pointing to the bathroom sink.

Lyric climbed his little stairs, enthusiastically "washing" his hands - which mostly involved playing with soap and water.

Spinz shook his head, amused. "He needs to stop growing."

Lewis chuckled, peeking into the bathroom to check Lyric's handiwork. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene. The toilet seat was adorned with a scattering of tiny droplets, evidence of Lyric's still-developing aim, and a small puddle had formed on the floor in front of the toilet. It was clear their little boy had given it his best effort, but precision was still a work in progress.

"Oh my goodness, this is going to be a thing, huh?" Rorie joked, grabbing a Clorox wipe to clean the seat and floor.

"Yeah…boys do that," Lewis admitted. "But at least he used it the correct way this time."

"True," Rorie nodded. "Should we put Cheerios or something in the bowl - to help with his aim?"

Lewis looked perplexed. "Cheerios? That's what you have to use?"

"Or one of those pee-pee buddies I saw on Amazon." Lewis gave her an incredulous look. "What?" Rorie chuckled. "Didn't you read that potty training book I sent you?"

"No…between the photoshoot and race stuff, I didn't have time to look it over. But I don't think Cheerios is a good pick; you know he loves them. What if he eats them out of the toilet?"

Rorie scoffed. "Our child is smart enough to not eat some nasty Cheerios out of the toilet."

"But our other child still drinks water there from time to time," Lewis said, obviously referring to Roscoe.

"Ugh, don't remind me." Rorie's eyes cut to Lyric, still playing in the sink. "Can you handle that please?"

Lewis nodded, eyebrows knitting together as he realized what a mess his son was making. He sighed, rolling up his sleeves as he approached the sink. Lyric had managed to create a miniature water park, with soap suds covering most of the counter and water splashed up the mirror. The boy himself was soaked from chest to knees, his shirt clinging to his little body.

"Alright, big man," Lewis said, grabbing a towel. "Let's get you dried off."

As Lewis dealt with the bathroom situation, Rorie made her way to the kitchenette, washing her hands at the sink there. Miles leaned against the counter, a bemused expression on his face.

"So," Rorie started, glancing at Miles. "How are things with you and KiKi?"

Miles nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, we're getting there. It's not easy with our schedules, but she's been making an effort to come to some of my Olympic trials."

Rorie raised an eyebrow. "That's great, Miles. I'm glad she's showing up for you."

"Me too," Miles agreed. "It means a lot, you know? Seeing her in the stands, knowing she's there to support me."

Their conversation drifted to other topics - Miles' training regimen, Rorie's latest projects, the upcoming race. The comfortable banter was a welcome distraction from the chaos of the past few weeks.

A few minutes later, Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a freshly dried and changed Lyric.

Lyric's face lit up at the sight of Miles and Spinz. He toddled over, his little hand raised for a high five. "Up top, big man!" Miles grinned, meeting Lyric's hand with his own.

Spinz crouched down to Lyric's level. "Looking fresh, little dude. Give me some love," he said, holding out his fist.

Lyric, with all the seriousness a toddler could muster, bumped his tiny fist against Spinz's. The adults couldn't help but laugh at the adorable display.

As Lyric basked in the attention of his uncles, Rorie caught Lewis's eye. They shared a smile, a silent acknowledgment of the joy these moments brought amidst the whirlwind of their lives. Despite the challenges they faced, moments like these - surrounded by love and laughter - made it all worthwhile.

Lewis stepped out of the car, carefully unbuckling Lyric from his car seat, and settling him on the ground before they made their way towards the paddock, the familiar buzz of media day already in full swing.

"Alright, big man," Lewis said, settling Lyric on his hip. "Ready to see Daddy's work?"

Lyric nodded enthusiastically, his braids - a miniature version of Lewis's own - bouncing with the movement. Lewis couldn't help but smile at the sight. They were quite the pair today, both sporting Tommy Hilfiger-designed Mercedes team shirts and jeans. Even Lyric's tiny feet were encased in toddler-sized Timberlands, a near-perfect match to Lewis's.

As they walked, Lewis found his mind drifting to the therapy sessions back in London. The weight of everything - Martin, Athena, the lawsuit, their IVF plans - still pressed on him, but he felt more equipped to handle it all. Talking things through with Rorie and their therapists had been cathartic, reminding him of the strength they had as a couple.

"Dada, fast car?" Lyric asked, pointing towards the garage area.

Lewis chuckled. "That's right, buddy. We'll see the fast cars soon."

He savored these moments with Lyric; and treasured this one-on-one time with his son. It was so different from his own upbringing. Where his father had been stern and focused solely on racing, Lewis made a conscious effort to be open, to show Lyric that it was okay to have feelings, to be himself.

"You know, Lyric," Lewis said softly, "it's okay if you don't want to dress like Daddy all the time. You can wear whatever makes you happy."

Lyric looked at him, brown eyes wide with toddler seriousness. "Like Dada," he said firmly, tugging at his shirt that matched Lewis's.

Lewis laughed, pressing a kiss to Lyric's forehead. "Alright, big man. Like Dada it is."

As they approached the Mercedes garage, team members called out greetings, many stopping to coo over Lyric. The toddler basked in the attention, his shy smile growing more confident with each interaction.

"Lewis!" a familiar voice called out. Toto approached, a warm smile on his face. "And look who we have here. Hello, Lyric!"

"Toto!" Lyric exclaimed, reaching out his little fist for a bump, which Toto happily obliged.

As they chatted, Lewis felt a surge of pride. This was his world, and being able to share it with Lyric, to show him that success could come in many forms, meant everything to him.

"Dada race?" Lyric asked, pointing at the car being wheeled into the garage.

"Not today, buddy," Lewis explained patiently. "Today we talk to people about racing. But soon, yeah?"

Lyric nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. As they continued their tour of the paddock, Lewis answering Lyric's constant stream of questions as best he could, he realized something profound. In teaching his son about the world, about racing, about life, he was learning too. Learning to see things through fresh eyes, to appreciate the small moments, to balance his passion for racing with his love for his family. It wasn't always easy, juggling fatherhood with his career and the constant pressure of public life. But moments like these, with Lyric's little hand in his, matching outfits and all, made every challenge worth it.

As they rounded the corner near the Communications building, Lyric suddenly perked up, his eyes lighting with recognition. There, zipping along on her scooter, was Kevin Magnussen's daughter, Laura.

"L'waura!" Lyric shouted, his little legs carrying him forward before Lewis could react. Arms outstretched, the toddler made a beeline for his friend.

Lewis couldn't help but smile, remembering how Kevin had started bringing his kids to some of the races last year. Lyric and Laura had hit it off immediately, forming an adorable friendship that had become a source of both joy and mild embarrassment for their parents.

The Bahrain incident flashed through Lewis's mind - Lyric planting a kiss on Laura's cheek, a sweet gesture that had prompted a necessary but largely ignored conversation about boundaries and not kissing other kids without permission.

As if on cue, history repeated itself. Before Lewis could intervene, Lyric had reached Laura and planted another kiss on her cheek.

"Lyric! Big man, please don't do that!" Lewis called out, jogging towards the children. He shot an apologetic look at Kevin, who was watching the scene unfold with amusement.

Kevin chuckled, shaking his head. "Every time, Hamilton."

"I know, it's becoming a recurring thing. Sorry, man," Lewis said, reaching the kids.

Lyric and Laura looked up at their parents, their faces beaming with innocent joy.

"Lyric's my boyfriend," Laura announced proudly, her three-year-old vocabulary tackling the concept with endearing simplicity.

Lewis and Kevin exchanged shocked glances, both fathers clearly unprepared for this development.

"Sweetheart, what are you talking about 'boyfriend'? We agreed no boyfriends until you're fifty," Kevin said, his tone a mix of jest and genuine concern.

"But he's nice," Laura insisted. "He gave me a cookie!"

"Here, L'waura," Lyric chimed in, digging into his pocket and producing a fidget spinner toy.

Lewis couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. Here they were, two Formula 1 drivers, completely out of their depth in the face of toddler romance. As the two fathers shared a laugh, Lyric and Laura had already moved on, engrossed in the workings of the fidget spinner. Lewis watched them, marveling at the simplicity of childhood friendships and the unexpected challenges of parenthood.

"You know," Lewis said to Kevin, "I think I'd rather face a wet track at Monaco than navigate this whole parenting thing sometimes."

Kevin grinned. "Agreed. But it's worth it, isn't it?"

Lewis nodded, watching Lyric's face light up as he played with Laura. "Every single moment."

Rosa then approached Lewis. "Lewis, it's time for your panel. We need to head inside," she said, gesturing towards the building.

Lewis nodded, turning to Lyric. "Alright, big man, Daddy's got to go inside now. Can you say bye to me?" Lyric, still engrossed in showing Laura how to use the fidget spinner, didn't seem to hear his father. Lewis tried again, but the toddler remained oblivious.

Finally, Lewis used his stern 'dad' voice. "Lyric Apollo."

The use of his full name made Lyric's head snap up, his eyes wide.

"I'm going inside now," Lewis repeated. "Remember, no kissing, okay?"

Lyric gave his father a mischievous grin. "Yes, Dada," he said, in a tone that made Lewis wonder if he'd actually been heard.

"Rosa will watch you," Lewis added, ruffling Lyric's braids. "Be good, okay?"

As Lewis turned to leave, Kevin spoke to Laura in Danish, then fell into step beside him.

"Listen, mate," Lewis started as they walked. "I'm sorry about Lyric kissing Laura again. We've been trying to teach him about boundaries, but you know how kids are..."

Kevin waved off the apology with a good-natured chuckle. "Don't worry about it. They're kids. To be honest, it's kind of cute." Lewis raised an eyebrow, surprised by Kevin's relaxed attitude. Kevin shrugged. "I'm just happy Laura has a friend here. It can be a lonely life for our kids sometimes, you know?"

Lewis nodded, understanding all too well. "Yeah, I get that. It's not exactly a normal childhood, is it?"

As they entered the building, the buzz of media day enveloped them. Lewis took his place at the panel, fielding questions about the upcoming race, his expectations for the season.

____________________________________________________

Later that evening, as they settled around the table in their hotel suite, the Melbourne skyline twinkling through the windows, Lewis began recounting the day's events to Rorie. Her fork paused midway to her mouth, eyes widening comically as he got to the part about Laura calling Lyric her boyfriend.

"A girlfriend?" Rorie sputtered, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "He's barely even two years old and he has a girlfriend?" Her gaze darted to Lyric, who was blissfully unaware of the conversation, happily munching on his dinner.

Lewis shrugged, a hint of pride mixed with sheepishness playing across his features. "That's what happened, baby. Our boy's got game, apparently."

Rorie's brow furrowed, her mind clearly racing. "Is this going to become an issue? Do I have to call Louise again," she paused, giving a mock glare to Lyric, who had the wherewithal to flash a toothy grin, "and explain to her that we tried to talk to our sweet boy about boundaries?" The exasperation in her voice was palpable.

"Kevin's cool with it," Lewis chimed in, his tone reassuring.

"Still... I'm going to send Louise a text. Never hurts to have another side of the story."

"Rorie, you're putting too much focus on it," he said gently. "They're kids, it's cute."

"Lewis, our son is Black and he's—"

"I know that, Aurora," Lewis interjected, his tone suddenly stern. Rorie reared back slightly, blinking in surprise, Lewis's face softened. "Sorry for the tone, okay? But I know; hell, I even experienced it myself. I spoke to Kevin, and he's cool, understanding for the most part. I'm sure he spoke to Louise about it. If things get wild, I'll step in, alright? For now, it sounds wrong to try and stop them from being friends, especially since he'll probably see Laura whenever he's at a race weekend."

Rorie's expression wavered between concern and acceptance. "But a girlfriend though?" she repeated, her voice softer this time.

"I know, I know," Lewis conceded, then turned to their son. "Lyric, any words on this? Like what's going on, buddy?"

Lyric looked up from his plate, his little face the picture of innocence. "L'waura nice," he said nonchalantly, then picked up his fork to eat another little tree of broccoli.

Rorie couldn't help but smile at his simple response. "Nice... okay, well that settles everything. No more kissing, okay?" she pressed, trying to keep her tone light.

"Okay, mama," Lyric replied, his voice carrying the same mischievous undertone he'd used with Lewis on the paddock.

Rorie glanced at her husband, one eyebrow raised. "He's gonna kiss her again, isn't he?"

"Oh, you know it," Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "He's a charmer."

"Just like his father," Rorie added, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her voice as she took a sip of her wine.

The conversation lulled for a moment as they all focused on their meals. Rorie couldn't help but steal glances at Lyric, marveling at how quickly he was growing up. It seemed like just yesterday he was a tiny baby in her arms, and now he was making friends and apparently finding "girlfriends" at the track.

Lewis reached over and squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. His eyes met hers, full of understanding. "He's going to be fine, babe. We're here to guide him, but we've got to let him figure some things out on his own too."

Rorie nodded, returning the gentle pressure of his hand. "I know," she said softly, her gaze drifting back to Lyric. "It's just... it all happens so fast, doesn't it?"

One thing Rorie didn't fuck around with was anything that involved her son.

The journey to motherhood had been a long and arduous one, filled with heartbreak and disappointment before Lyric finally came into their lives. She remembered the endless doctor's appointments, the hormone treatments, the tears shed in quiet moments when she thought Lewis wasn't looking. When Lyric was finally born, it felt like a miracle.

Raising him in the limelight brought its own set of challenges. Every milestone was scrutinized, every decision questioned by strangers who felt entitled to an opinion on their family life. The recent media circus with The Sun had only intensified Rorie's protective instincts. And now, this situation with Lyric and his "girlfriend" Laura had her on edge.

Rorie found herself pacing in the paddock, phone pressed to her ear as she spoke with Louise, Kevin's wife.

"Really, Rorie, it's fine," Louise's voice came through, her Danish accent softening the words. "They're just kids being kids."

Rorie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know, I know. I just... I worry, you know?"

"Of course you do," Louise chuckled. "That's what mothers do. But trust me, it's harmless. And I appreciate you talking to Lyric about boundaries."

As she ended the call, Rorie felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

Maybe I was overreacting a bit?

Race day, as usual, was a flurry of activity. Rorie watched as Lewis prepared, his focus sharpening as he slipped into race mode. Lyric bounced around excitedly, decked out in his mini Mercedes gear.

As Lewis donned his helmet, Rorie's phone buzzed insistently. A quick glance showed a barrage of texts from Martin. She felt a familiar twist in her stomach but pushed it aside. Today was about Lewis and the race.

Instead, she fired off a quick text to C.J.:

"Can you send over Athena's contact info?"

Within seconds, her PA responded with the information. Rorie couldn't help but marvel at C.J.'s efficiency. Hiring him had been one of her better decisions lately.

As she contemplated her next move, an unknown number popped up on her screen:

"Can we talk?"

Now, who the fuck was this? Rorie's fingers hovered over the keyboard, a response forming in her mind. But before she could hit send, Lewis's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Ror?" he called, beckoning her over.

She pocketed her phone, the unsent message forgotten for now. As she approached, Lewis pulled her close for an embrace.

"You've got this," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his helmet.

With a final nod, Lewis climbed into his car. Rorie scooped up Lyric, moving to their spot in the garage. As the engines roared to life, she felt the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety that came with every race.

"Dada!" Lyric cheered as Lewis's car pulled out, his little hands clapping enthusiastically. Rorie held him close, grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their lives.

As Lewis's Mercedes lined up in its grid position, the air in the garage crackled with tension. The rumble of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision. Rorie could feel the vibrations in her chest, matching the rapid beat of her heart.

Toto's voice crackled over the headset, his Austrian accent clipped and focused as he delivered last-minute instructions to the team. In the car, Bono's calm tones filtered through to Lewis, a familiar ritual of encouragement and strategy.

"Okay, Lewis, we're looking good. Remember, it's a long race. Let's bring it home," Bono said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Rorie watched the giant screens, her grip on Lyric tightening slightly as the start sequence began. The red lights blinked on one by one, the tension in the air building with each passing second.

"Lights out and away we go!" the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers.

In an instant, the track erupted into controlled chaos. Twenty cars launched forward in a breathtaking display of speed and skill. Lewis's Mercedes shot off the line, jockeying for position as they hurtled towards the first corner.

Lyric squealed with delight, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched his father's car disappear into the distance. Rorie found herself holding her breath, as she always did in these first crucial moments of the race.

As the cars navigated the chicane, weaving through with millimeter precision, Rorie felt the familiar mix of pride and anxiety wash over her. The race unfolded like a high-speed chess match, with Lewis showcasing his unparalleled skill at every turn. He executed a brilliant overtake on the outside of turn three, threading the needle between two rivals with breathtaking precision. Lap after lap, he chipped away at the lead, his Mercedes dancing on the edge of adhesion as he pushed it to its limits.

In a heart-stopping moment, Lewis's car collided with George's, sending both spinning off the track in a shower of carbon fiber and rubber.

"Fuck!" Toto's voice boomed through the garage, his frustration palpable.

"Fuck!" Lyric parroted innocently, causing Toto to shake his head.

"Lyric, no," Toto said, his expression softening. "That's a bad word. Don't repeat that."

Rorie's heart raced as she watched the aftermath, relief washing over her as Lewis climbed out of the car unharmed. She was disappointed about the DNF, but grateful he was safe. As Lewis and George were driven back to the garage in the medical car, Rorie's phone rang - Lil Yachty.

"Hey, Boat," Rorie answered, "I may have to call you back. Lewis needs me."

"Oh, for sure, but I'll be quick, if that's okay?" he said.

Lyric, hearing the familiar voice, chimed in with a "What's up, Boat?" in his adorable toddler voice.

"Hey, lil' bro, what's up?"

"A lot," Rorie scoffed with an eyeroll. "Apparently, he's got a girlfriend now."

"Oh? That's what's up." Yachty's tone shifted slightly. "So, Ror, you got any free time in the next few weeks?"

Rorie's eyebrow arched. "Yes…?" she replied, curiosity coloring her voice.

"How'd you feel about performing at Coachella with me?"

Rorie's eyes widened, a mix of excitement and surprise flooding through her. "No freaking way."

"Way. Listen, I'll let you handle your stuff with your hubby, but I'll reach out to you and your people with more details, alright?"

"Yeah...of course. Wow, this is nuts."

"You got it, Rorie. Love ya, big sis."

"See ya, Boat."

When she hung up, she felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. This was insane - first, she performed at Austin City Limits, and now performing at Coachella was an option.

Rorie took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then stood up as Lewis came back into the garage. He immediately found them and took Lyric from her arms, kissing her temple. From his flat expression and silence, she knew he was furious. But he kept his composure, his posture never revealing his true feelings. Rorie wrapped her arms around him, enjoying the warmth and security of his body.

"Lean on me," she said, her words meaning much more than him shifting some of his weight onto her.

And so he did—literally and figuratively—allowing her to be his rock.

"I love you, Aurora Borealis," he whispered in her hair.

"I love you too, LewLew Bear," she replied.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the downtown Los Angeles law office, casting long shadows across the polished conference table. Deja sat rigidly in her chair next to her lawyer, her jaw set in defiance as she faced Julian across the gleaming expanse of wood.

The air was thick with tension, the proposed settlement papers lying untouched between them. Deja's lawyer, a formidable Black woman named Tanya, pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Deja, I strongly advise you to consider this offer," Tanya said, her voice strained with barely contained exasperation. "It's more than fair, given the circumstances."

Deja shook her head vehemently. "No. I'm not backing down. We can win this."

Julian leaned back in his chair, his expression a mixture of pity and annoyance. "Ms. Barnes, I urge you to listen to your counsel. This offer won't be on the table indefinitely."

Tanya turned to Deja, her patience clearly wearing thin. "You need to understand the reality of your situation. With Luisa's testimony now supporting the Hamiltons, your position is significantly weakened."

"I don't care," Deja snapped. "I know what happened. I'm not letting them silence me."

Tanya's eyes flashed with anger. "If you're not going to value my expertise, then I don't see how I can continue to represent you."

The meeting ended in a stalemate, with Deja storming out of the office. As she stepped onto the busy LA street, she pulled out her phone, dialing Alexander's number for what felt like the hundredth time.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

This motherfucker.

Since the Hamiltons were acting on business about the lawsuit, Alexander slowly but surely began to distance himself from her. And she couldn't blame him, yet he was just as involved in this as she was, so playing innocent wasn't going to work.

Frustrated, she ducked into a nearby alley, fishing a vape pen from her purse. She didn't usually smoke, but the stress was getting to her. As she inhaled, the sweet vapor filling her lungs, Deja leaned against the cool brick wall, closing her eyes.

Everything was falling apart. Her supporters were abandoning her one by one, brand deals had dried up, and now even her lawyer was threatening to jump ship. The trial loomed in May, and she felt increasingly alone.

With shaky fingers, she pulled out her phone again, opening one of her text apps. She typed out a message to Rorie's old number: "Can we talk?"

Her thumb hovered over the send button, a mix of hope and desperation coursing through her. As the LA traffic roared by at the end of the alley, Deja pressed send, clinging to the slim chance that Rorie's number hadn't changed after all these years. It felt like a Hail Mary, but at this point, what did she have to lose?

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[mycurrentobsessionis]

I'm so protective of Victor Frankenstein, because everyone is like "the creature is actually completely right and he should have just made a second creature and it would be fine" or "he shouldn't have abandoned his creation" and like, come on.

First of all, he didn't abandoned the creature. He basically spent 9 months obsessing of creating this thing because (a) his mother died and he developed a morbid fascination with death to cope and (b) his father, instead of explaining why alchemy was a bad idea, just dismissed his interest out of hand. But the thing was that it wasn't //actually// supposed to work. And he also isn't eating or sleeping and he is mentally Not Well. But then the creature opens it's eyes and it's terrifying because even though it should be beautiful, being made of beautiful parts, it is still made of fucking corpses.

So, Victor passes the fuck out and wakes up after the creature has escaped. And then he's like, wtf was that?? Am I going insane?? He doesn't go looking for the creature because he thinks he made it up in his head. I think his friend was also like, "hey, dude, I think you just have a fever."

And then he finds out that his 6yo brother has been MURDERED and his childhood friend is accused of having killed the child, so he goes home. He can't even say, "hey, I think I made a monster that did this" because no one will believe him. And this creature shows up and tells him that it killed his brother simply because it hated Victor. It killed a young child because it wanted to hurt Victor. Now it wants Victor to make a second creature like the first.

And, for the record, the creature has been having a hard time because its a giant walking corpse and people aren't giving it a chance to prove that it can read Shakespeare. Here's the thing. The creature is smart. It reads classic literature. It speaks well. It is also cunning. After snapping William's neck, it frames Justine by slipping William's gold locket in her apron pocket.

Victor takes responsibility for this. He is aware at this point that he has fucked around and found out. He feels guilty about his little brother's death, and the execution of his friend. He agrees to create a second creature out of fear, but then decides that he will accept his fate and let the creature kill him because he is afraid that, given how terribly the first creature turned out, he will be endangering more people. What he didn't count on was that the creature would not actually kill him (he is its only shot at getting a companion, after all) and would instead kill his best friend and his wife.

The creature is lonely, but it's first response to rejection was not to seek its creator and ask for a companion. Its response was to murder people weaker than it, then seek out a companion from Victor through threats of violence. Why would he want to help it at that point? Why would he trust it?

[esmedelacroix]

"And the fact that you didn't call,"

husband!miguel x f!reader ♡

10 Things I Hate About You ← mini-series masterlist

"I hate it when you're not around," ← previous part

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You spent your time alone at your house doing the most random things. Binging RuPaul's Drag Race and vacuuming all the nooks and crannies you never would've thought to vacuum. All while simultaneously checking your phone every two seconds waiting for a call from him.

You didn't know what you wanted him to say. Just anything. You wanted to hear his voice but you also wanted to ignore him. You had no idea what you wanted. Your mind was all jumbled from overthinking. If all you wanted was to talk with him, why were you ignoring him?

Am I sending him mixed signals? Why don't I just go talk to him? This is getting out of hand. I'll go see him. Right when you made that mental decision the doorbell rang. Your heart swelled hoping it would be Miguel coming home to you early.

You open the door and your heart sinks to the ground when you see Justine standing at the door. "Can we please talk?" Justine asked in an apologetic tone.

You went against everything in your mind telling you to slam the door on her face and opened the door wider for her to walk in.

. . .

Justine's POV

While walking to Miguel's office I heard him talking to people in there and overheard them talking about me.

"Yes Justine, the girl you keep running to instead of spending time with your wife," Gwen said.

"The girl you keep choosing over your wife," Peter B added.

I had no idea that Miguel and his wife were having problems because of me. Sure I had been rude to her a couple of times but that's just what I do when I'm pissed. I never think about how my actions could affect people. My dad was right. Justine thought to herself as she swung to Miguel's apartment.

. . .

Your POV

"I'm going to skip the small talk and get right to the point. I owe you the biggest apology," Justine started.

"Go on," you hummed.

"I'm sorry. And I don't want your man. Trust me, I don't exactly swing that way if you catch my drift," she said sheepishly. You only gave her a puzzled look.

"I'm gay," she deadpanned.

"Oh," you chuckled.

"My father was never really accepting of me and after he found out I was Spiderwoman he lost it. Miguel was the first older guy to be nice to me since then and I looked for fatherly qualities in him which was quite inappropriate and childish but I couldn't help myself," she explained. You gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" she asked.

Literally no, is what you thought to yourself but instead, you said "Of course I can. Thank you for coming here and apologizing. That was very thoughtful of you,"

After a while of chatting with Justine and finding out she's not the literal spawn of satan and she's only a bit annoying you finally sighed when she left. Just when that happened your balcony panel door slid open and you saw Miguel there, surprised to see you awake.

. . .

next part → "But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you,"

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taglist: @lilscast @lazyjellyfish300 @safixiovi @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiira @aktenati @vera4luv @skylertully @boringpersonality @ce3stvu @synamonthy @straw-berry-ghoul @holachaoholachoa

[justjudethoughts]

Look, I'm not saying I'm expecting the Wizards of Waverly Place reboot to be fabulous. Reboots almost never are. BUT:

The fact that David Henrie and Selena Gomez are directing it? The fact that it clearly has a lot to do with found family, and this time around Justin is the stand-in father figure? The fact that David Henrie is a devout Catholic father? The fact that he knows the value of family and fatherhood and found family and father figures in a world that usually makes the father characters dumb and useless? The fact that we get to watch Justin, the older brother, the protector and getter-outter-of-trouble from the original show grow up to be the man of the household?? I just—

It makes me emotional.

[relicsongmel]

Something I've always found fascinating about Raymond Shields is that despite seemingly having altruistic reasons for being a defense attorney, his reasons for trying to convince Miles to be one are anything but.

It seems understandable enough on the surface. After Ray comes around and agrees to work with Miles in The Imprisoned Turnabout, he sees remnants of Gregory shining through him despite von Karma's influence. Whether or not he recognizes that Miles' decision to become a prosecutor wasn't just born from that alone—that it was in tandem with wanting to distance himself from anything that reminded him of his father to alleviate the burden on his heart—is up for debate, but regardless: he acknowledges Miles as Gregory's son through and through and wants to capitalize on his dedication for pursuing justice in a way that he knows would make his father proud. He wants to let Miles in on the life he was robbed of at 9 years old—the life he once dreamed of living, where he follows in the footsteps of his father by giving everything he has to save people, by fighting like hell for the vulnerable and the condemned.

That said, as much as Ray dresses up his proposition by making it out to be as if he's looking out for Miles' best interests (and the best interests of society, even)...his motives for trying to get Miles to switch sides are almost entirely selfish. Ray's efforts (and most of his actions in general, really) are ultimately a product of his desperate attempt to cling on to anything related to Gregory out of an inability to move on from his death. Wearing his hat and coat, leaving the name of his office unchanged...and now, requesting that his son literally change jobs just because he can't bear the weight of his own loneliness anymore. Because he can't bear to think that the damage done by DL-6 is irreversible and Miles has moved on while he has stagnated for the past 17 years. Because he has an idealized vision of what he thinks Gregory would want and fails to realize that his son's occupation wouldn't matter to him as long as it brings him happiness and fulfillment. In his mind, letting Miles go means accepting the circumstances that brought him where he is and allowing both of them to move on. And that terrifies him.

It's even more deceitful when you realize that Ray's pitch comes at a very opportune time for Miles given his circumstances at that point: that is, he's under threat of investigation for prosecutorial misconduct and at risk of being stripped of his badge. Ray might fake incompetence, but he's not stupid—and he takes full advantage of Justine's warnings to try to sway Miles when he's in a more vulnerable position in terms of his job. Which is...pretty fucked up, to put it lightly. Despite having a better idea of where he came from compared to most people, through this Ray shows a lack of understanding of who Miles truly is and a lack of respect for what he's come to value, even if his path toward obtaining those values had some bumps along the road. But he's so blinded by his grief that he doesn't even stop to consider how much he's really asking of him, or what Miles is really searching for.

Ray was moved by Gregory. He values saving people. Defending the weak is an undeniably noble endeavor. But to ask that of someone else without consideration for their best interests is decidedly less so.

For all his occupation requires a certain selflessness, Raymond Shields is far more selfish than he lets on. And I for one find that contradiction fascinating to unpack.

[godsopenwound]

When I first began watching horror, I was drawn in by the display of appetite—specifically female appetite—in all its forms: not only the way Rosemary slices into her steak, but also the way Ginger Fitzgerald begins eating human flesh in Ginger Snaps (2000), her eyes a disturbing jolt of light; the way Justine tears into uncooked chicken with her teeth in Raw (2016); the way Rose and Iris Parker steadily eat their father’s body at the dining table in We Are What We Are (2013), the remake of the 2010 Mexican film Somos lo que hay.

Food-based metaphor in horror is so often visceral and tacky and overwrought, so why does our delight still stand? As a woman, to say that you have found eating uncomfortable at times is not particularly groundbreaking. The anxiety has become mundane because it is so common for women, but isn’t that in itself noteworthy? Horror invites us to sit with this disgust, this anxiety, to acknowledge our appetite, to refuse to let us suppress it. There is something uncomfortable and enthralling about watching a woman devour what she likes with intent. It was the kind of eating I longed for. I looked on with jealousy, with desire, with newly-found resolve.

When I began watching horror regularly, I found its relationship with food satisfying because it often spoke to those dual desires at once: hunger and disgust. It was the same split sensation I had seeing Rosemary plunge into the steak with a fork. I was disgusted, but the disgust arrived with the ignition of my own appetite. The task was to let the hunger override the disgust. To let appetite overwrite the shame.

And, really, wasn’t my shame at eating alone about the shame of being witnessed, being caught desiring, too? To be witnessed wanting, and then to witness the capacity of your own appetite.

What if you allowed yourself to want what you want? What wonderful, terrifying things would happen then? There are dual horrors here: the horror of recognizing your capacity for desire in another person, and where it can drive you—and the horror of being observed in this primal state, unedited and unfiltered, acting on what you want.

— Laura Maw, There’s Nothing Scarier Than a Hungry Woman

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt. 5

(I think it’s part 5😭)

* As a Venus conjunct pluto, Im so jealous of my cousins w Venus trine Pluto. They can easily become popular and have women drawn to them without as much drama.

*gemini rising babies are so much fun they smile so much as babies (shoutout to my niece and little cousin🥰)

* i have sun conjunct Neptune and people have compared me to a fairy

*cardi b has venus in the 8th (and a Scorpio venus i think) and she paid to get two strippers offset cheated w beat up. Scorpionic women + cheaters are a baddd combination.

*gwenyth Paltrow recently got body shamed and told to eat but shes also has a Pisces rising. They usually are very thin or have fragile looking bodies

*first house is also personality and my experience w Pluto in 1st people they are very very dominant. They’re friends follow them around, they’re used to getting their way, they have eyes on them at all times which can give them bad anxiety.

*Mars in the 2nd house men have some niceeeeeee voices like they’re so deep you can pick their voice out in a crowd

*I’ve seen Chiron in 11th be bullied as kids and grow up and become bullies. Also they might have a traumatic relationship with being in front of a camera. (Avoiding recording themselves or taking pictures)

*Virgo risings have some cool moms (sag in 4th)

*also Aries in 11th can get told they do too much on social media (posting too much or over sharing)

* I notice famous women who people claim are everywhere (basically overexposed) or in too many roles for actresses usually are Lilith dominant. (Ex: Jennifer Lawrence, GiGi Hadid, Megan thee stallion, Anne Hathaway) are they overexposed or are y’all just jealous?😭

*venus in the 1st can lead to jealousy it’s not always love and admiration. For ex: my friend saw this guy around our dorm and thought he was cute so she followed him on ig. Mind you a lot of girls in our dorm thought he was attractive (he had pluto in 1st) and many talked about him😭 well my friend saw his gf on his page and obviously left it alone but his gf picked her out of all the girls who lusted after him to be threatened by. Well his gf was an early degree cancer Venus and my friend has a Gemini Venus at 19 degrees so her Venus was in my friends 1h. She was clearly bothered by my friend specifically following him because she found her to be attractive.

*Three girls who talked about me behind my back and tried to bully me all had Aries venuses. One had my rising conjunct her Venus exactly.

*ONCE again mercury pluto are liars idk if it’s because they think they can get away w it or what but Sza has a conjunction and my good sis lies for no reason

*aqua Venus women are usually bisexual or lesbians

*Doja cat is a good example of Uranus-asc. I have a tight orb sextile and I’ve worn adventure time doc martens, strawberry earrings, bright orange hair. Think of Harper from wizards of waverly place.

*a good song for that aspect is “Secrets” by Mary Lambert. “I rock mom jeans, cat earrings, extrapolate my feelings”😮‍💨

*sun conjunct asc could make someone resemble their father or act just like their dad and I think Doja does resemble her father a lot

* also she has Saturn in 5th and her father was an actor/performer. Also she complained about working too much and many people w this aspect feel like the fun is delayed and comes after work or they very strict on themselves in fun environments. Let loose yall💕💕

* my favorite mercury sign is Taurus😭 they have beautiful voices but the way the cuss people out is so iconic to me (ex: azealia banks)

*it’s messy to bring him up after doja but idgaf😭 Joseph Quinn has mars conjunct Uranus. A lot of eddie munson’s mannerisms were erratic and I think mar-Uranus plus his aqua placements made eddie so great at the role.

*also I notice a lot of heartthrobs or men twitter went crazy for at some point have aqua placements (timothee chalamet, Harry styles, Justin Bieber, Joseph Quinn, Noah centineo, Pedro pascal) it’s opposite of Leo so I think people keep forgetting the attention magnet can go for aquas too esp online.

*since i mentioned the show another example of Venus-Neptune synastry could be Mason and Alex. All the art references, him hiding what he really was until he couldn’t, and the fears of cheating and deceit.

*a mix of Virgo, libra, and Leo can make someone the person who tries to help everyone. They will bring you food if you haven’t eaten and also lecture you but it’s coming from a good place. I think people forget how sweet Leo placements can be (ex: Bella hadid for someone who grew up w money she’s very humble and you can see this in multiple instances. For example sza thanked her for helping fix her hair at the met gala)

* she also have Venus conjunct ascendant which I think makes someone’s Venus traits stand out. I’ve noticed people w Venus square their ascendant don’t really openly express love for people and can even get called “cold” esp by family members.

*She also has Saturn in the 7th which could mean dating older partners or partners w cap placements. The Weeknd was older than her and he has a cap Venus + mars.

*certain placements can get away w a lot. Chris brown has a history of abuse yet women seem to still support him (moon conjunct Venus). He also has mars opposite Uranus which is a temper problem indicator

* fixed risings 🤝 pixie cuts/bobs (ex: Marilyn Monroe, Halle Berry, Zendaya, demi Lovato)

[peaches-creek]

It had been years since he had last seen you, his girl. You weren’t his girl, but you were his girl. He had only been Jason again for maybe a year or so, leaving the Arkham Knight in the past, and bringing the Red Hood into the light. He was still brining himself back, still having days where he feels nothing but rage. Days where he feels disgust, sadness, trauma. He has to be able to feel those things before he is able to love anyone else, not that he wants anyone else, you are it for him. You loved him for the little Jason that would show up on your doorstep with bruised and scraped knees, a belly needing to be filled. Instead of telling him to find help elsewhere, that you can’t let him in because your father would absolutely flip, you quietly let him in.

As he sits on your little twin bed, he takes in your room and pays attention to the small things. The pretty little pink flowers on your sheets, the Justin Bieber poster beside your desk. He scoffs at that. He notices the little finger paintings your younger sister made you, the well loved stuffed animals, and the little tea cup set you had at your play table. The last thing he payed attention to, while you gathered as many band-aids aid alcohol pads as your little 9 year old hands could hold, was all the knitted scarves and hats you had around your room. One was pink, another blue with a white rim, many rainbow colored ones, but the one that looked the warmest, was the red one. It had a white Pom-pom on top with little red laces on the bottom to tie it tight around your squishy little face. He imagined you in it, with your puffy cheeks. You scurry back into the room.

“Okay so these kinda sting,’’ you say ripping open an alcohol wipe, “I can hold your hand if you want.” You were half teasing. You did want to hold his hand but you knew he was like a scared rabbit, if you moved too fast he would scamper back into the darkness.

“I think I will manage, barely.” he smirks. He wanted to hold your hand too.

You payed attention to him as well. You payed attention to how his knees weren’t just bruised, but scarred. How his teeth were only a bit crooked. His hair was curly in the most perfect way, with a little curl falling right in front of his face. His freckles and blue eyes. You loved everything about him. You also noticed those pretty little blue eyes looking at your red hat.

“My nana makes those y’know,” you chirp, “she can make you one if you want.”

“I’m all set.” He says, looking away.

“Alright. Well guess what happened the other day! I went to the store and I found…” You rambled on, getting back to doctoring his knees.

He spent the remaining time of the night listening to insignificant stories about your little life. About the silly man you saw wearing a bright yellow suit and pink polka dot shoes. About the stray cat with one eye. He started looking at you again, looking at your funny little bed head, cowlick sticking straight up. Your blue striped pajama set. Bunny slippers. Everything about you was cute, you were only a year or so younger than him.

You met him at the Gotham Public library. You were both looking for books on mythology, he was looking for Greek while you were looking for Norse, different but alike, just like the pair of you. Ever since then, you were always around one another. He walked you home from school, made sure you got into your apartment okay. He would go to the park with you, push you on the swings. He even read you stories when you were sick and your mother let him in to see you. I mean, how could you deny him, he looked like a kicked puppy when he found out you couldn’t play.

You weren’t like the other city kids, you were kind. That’s why he liked you so much. All the obstacles you overcame, and you were still forgiving and patient. He envied that. Everything he went through made him angry and unforgiving. He would tell you about that, but you would just tell him that there’s two sides to every coin, and he didn’t know what the hell that meant. Sometimes you just said stuff.

You finished up with a quick kiss to his knees and exclaimed that you were all done. You turned on your heel and walked right over to the little red hat. You walked right back over to him and put in on his head.

“It’s a little too big for me, but it fits you just right!”

“I can’t take this.” He says, without taking it off.

“Yes, you can.” You quip.

“No I can’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Jason Peter Todd I will win the fight and you know it.” You giggle.

His response is nonverbal, just a huff. You smile.

He moves toward the window in your room, opens it and climbs onto the fire escape. He takes one last look into your lovely room and one last look at your lovely face. He waves his hand at you, beckoning you to come to him. He presses one little kiss to your cheek and quickly, but quietly he shuts the window. Then he’s gone, probably going home, leaving you with a red hot face and a goofy smile.