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workersolidarity · 5 months ago

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[ 📹 Dead and wounded arrive at a hospital in Gaza after the Israeli occupation forces bombed a residential building in the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip on Monday. 📈 The current death toll in the Israeli genocide now exceeds 38'664 Palestinians killed, while another 89'097 others have been wounded since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

283 DAYS OF GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP: GAZANS IN ISRAELI DETENTION FACE TORTURE, RAPE AND DEATH, SMOTRICH REJECTS THE POSSIBLE RELEASE OF PALESTINIAN PRISONERS IN EXCHANGE DEAL, 15 YEARS NEEDED TO REMOVE THE RUBBLE OF GAZA, ISRAELI MASSACRES CONTINUE AS GENOCIDE ENTERS ITS 40TH WEEK

On 283rd day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 80 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 216 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or whose bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Details have emerged about the severe abuse of Palestinian detainees while being held in Israeli prisons. This comes after journalist Mohammad Arab met with his lawyer who visited the Ofer Prison near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on Sunday.

According to Khaled Mahajna, a lawyer with the Commission of Detainees' Affairs, who spoke at a press conference after he visited two clients from the Ofer Prison, detailed his clients' experiences under interrogation at the Sde Teiman Camp, a prison in the Negev desert of southern occupied Palestine.

Speaking of his visit to Ofer Prison, Mahajna says his client was questioned about a prior visit from his lawyer and threatened with punishment for disclosing his experiences.

Mahajna said Arab described witnessing the rape of Gazan detainees, telling his lawyer one was stripped naked during an assault, while another detainee was also stripped naked and electricuted, before being sexually assaulted.

Mahajna told reporters that Palestinian detainees were forced to lie on the ground with their hands bound behind their heads before police dogs were released, attacking the bound men.

Mahajna went on to add that more than 100 detainees were blindfolded before being transferred from the Sde Teiman Camp to the Ofer Prison, leading the prisoners to believe they were being taken to a camp near Gaza.

According to the Israeli Prison Services, more than 9'000 Palestinian detainees are currently being held in Israeli prisons.

In other news, Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich said on Monday, July 15th, that he opposes the release of Palestinian prisoners as part of a hostage exchange and ceasefire agreement with the Palestinian resistance factions.

Smotrich described the release of Palestinian prisoners as a "terrible and horrific event," going on to say that "I will not agree to it; a red line must be drawn."

“We saw what happened in the deal for Gilad Shalit (former Israeli soldier who was released by the Resistance in a 2011 hostage deal). We released Yahya Sinwar, and we see what we got in return,” Smotrich said, before asking “With what logic will we release the next Yahya Sinwar and endanger thousands more Israelis?”

In the 2011 hostage exchange, the Hamas Palestinian resistance movement released the soldier Shalit in exchange for the release of some 1'027 Palestinian prisoners, including the current Al-Qassam military leader, Yahya Sinwar, who remains at large and hunted by occupation forces.

Smotrich concluded his statement by saying that “I will oppose this, even if it ends my political career.”

“If there are no red lines, you have no right to practice politics,” he said.

In more news on Monday, the United Nations has estimated that it would take a fleet of 100 trucks more than 15 years to remove the mountain of rubble burying the Gaza Strip, while the removal is estimated to cost approximately US$600 million.

The UN also estimates that 137'297 buildings have been damaged or destroyed since the start of the Israeli occupation's genocidal war, equivalent to more than half of the enclave's buildings.

The UN says that, of the targeted buildings, around a quarter are completely destroyed, while a tenth are severely damaged.

In total, the UN stated that rubble covers as much as five square kilometers of Gaza, with the UN proposing that most of the rubble is not recoverable or recyclable, and will have to be disposed of.

Previously, the United Nations estimated that rebuilding the Gaza Strip, with all its destroyed homes and facilities, wouldn't be completed until at least 2040, and is expected to cost in excess of US$40 Billion, which the UN described as an "optimistic estimate".

The UN also pointed to the destruction of Gaza's schools, sewage and water lines, medical and other vital infrastructure, stating that the quality of healthcare, education and social services in Gaza has returned to levels unseen since 1980.

According to the United Nations, more than 44 years of development in Gaza has been completely erased.

“The damage to infrastructure is unbelievable, there is not a single building in Khan Younis that has not been damaged,” a UN official told the media

“The terrain has changed, new hills have appeared. The bombs dropped have changed the landscape."

It was also noted that piles of rubble across the Gaza Strip are filled with unexploded bombs and other explosive materials, which will make the reconstruction of the Gaza Strip an even more difficult task, the UN official concluded.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation's genocidal war goes on, with occupation bombing and shelling continuing to target civilian homes, infrastructure and other facilities.

On Sunday, occupation warplanes bombed the UNRWA-run Abu Oreiban School, which housed displaced Palestinian families in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of 15 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, and wounding another 70 others.

The Zionist entity's atrocities continued when an Israeli drone targeted citizens in the Bir Abu Salah area in the town of Al-Zawaida, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the death of one Palestinian and injuring several others.

In another attack, the Israeli occupation forces bombed the Al-Mashrou area, east of the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing a Palestinian and wounding others, while at the same time, occupation fighter jets bombed civilian homes north of the New Camp area of the Nuseirat Camp, killing and wounding several citizens.

Zionist warplanes went on to bomb a residential home in Bani Suhaila, east of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza, and also targeting a civilian residence northeast of the Nuseirat Camp, while an occupation drone fired live bullets towards residents of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

By dawn on Monday morning, the Israeli occupation army had fired several artillery shells towards the neighborhoods of Tal al-Hawa, Sheikh Ajlin, and al-Sabra in Gaza City, while Zionist helicopters fired rockets and bullets at civilians in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of the city.

Similarly, occupation artillery detatchments shelled in the vicinity of Street 8 in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

The occupation's bombing also targeted a residential home belonging to the Al-Manaama family in the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, after which, civil defense and rescue crews managed to recover the bodies of 5 martyrs, including 3 children.

Occupation artillery shelling and aircraft bombing also targeted the Al-Mughraqa area, along with the northern outskirts of the Nuseirat Camp, both in central Gaza, as well as in the Bureij Camp, while occupation forces also opened fire from helicopters northwest of Al-Zahra'a.

An occupation warplane also fired a missile into a residential apartment near the Al-Awda School in the town of Abasan Al-Kabira, east of Khan Yunis, with no injuries reported in the strike.

Israeli artillery shelling went on to target the western neighborhoods of Rafah City, south of Gaza, coinciding with gunfire from Zionist helicopters in the same area.

In another bombing, occupation fighter jets bombed a gathering of civilians on Al-Mansoura Street in the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, killing 3 civilians and wounding several others.

Israeli war crimes continued into Monday evening, when occupation warplanes bombed a house in the Nuseirat Camp, resulting in the martyredom of 6 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll now exceeds 38'664 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and well over 15'000 children, while another 89'097 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

This brings the total number of casualties in the genocide to 127'761 or 5.55% of the 2.3 million Palestinian residents of the Gaza Strip.

July 15th, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 5 months ago

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glasses. ( elliot stabler x reader )

gif belongs to me

You rarely wore your glasses in the presence of company. Only when the blinds were closed in your office or when you were in the comfort of your own home. However, you were due to appear in the Judge's chambers tomorrow morning to discuss the case you were prosecuting, arguing against the defense ruling out the tape recording of the defendant's voice, and expected everyone on the floor to have headed home, and weren't expecting any visitors.

The last person you expected to knock on your door as he walked into your office was your boyfriend of four months. In your exhausted state, you weren't fast enough to remove your glasses and hide them in the top drawer of your desk. Elliot raised an eyebrow but gave no indication he saw your glasses.

"Hey," He greeted.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" You smiled as you stood up to greet him with a kiss, your smile growing as you pulled away.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Liv and I are waiting to get some results back from the lab." He showed you his watch, "Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Late?" You replied as you returned to your desk, sighing as you sat down. "I'm due in chambers first thing tomorrow. And I'm trying to make sure that weasel can't poke holes in my argument. I need that tape to be admitted into evidence."

Elliot chuckled, knowing exactly who you were referring to. Everyone at the precinct referred to the conniving defense lawyer as your archnemeses which wasn't far off. While prosecuting a case for the unit, you met Elliot when you showed up at the precinct to observe the line-up. Cragen had pulled some strings, calling in a few favors to make sure you agreed to take the case as it wasn't your typical case of choice. You had put some of the most hardened criminals in prison and while Olivia was wary at first, claiming you had no idea what it took to win a rape case, the brunette warmed up to you quickly as you proved your dedication to the cause, irritating a few judges along the way as you knew which one's to call for warrants knowing which buttons to push and when.

"And you also need to sleep." He pointed at you sternly, "Naps on that abomination you call a couch don't count."

You playfully rolled your eyes, covering your mouth as you yawned. "Alright, but I'm bringing it home to work on in the morning."

Elliot nodded, "Deal. Come on."

You gathered your paperwork and Elliot held your jacket as you slipped your arms in the sleeves, noticing you weren't bringing your glasses and wondered why you had hidden them so quickly.

Did you think he would see you differently? Embarrassed? Insecure?

He would figure out which but in the meantime, he took you home to the apartment he had moved into after his divorce and you both took a shower to wash the day away. Elliot was watching a game on the television while you worked quietly, with some difficulty. He could see the way you squinted at the writing and was tempted to mention you slamming the drawer closed to hide your glasses, but when you rubbed your temples and closed the paperwork defeatedly he realized why.

And Elliot was determined to change your mind.

The next night, after a great start to the trial, you were tidying up your desk when Elliot entered and you greeted him with a smile before turning to put a few books away on the bookshelves behind you, turning on your heel when you registered the change in his appearance.

"What are you doing?" You giggled as he closed the door.

"What?" He shrugged, moving to sit in the chair in front of your desk.

You shook your head, placed the books away, and took a seat behind your desk. "What's with the glasses?"

"Well, you know, I am a detective," He began, leaning back and clasping his hands. Your lips twitched with amusement, raising your eyebrows in mock surprise. "I'm pretty observant. Comes with the territory." He continued, "And yesterday I noticed that you almost chopped off your hand trying to hide your glasses in your top drawer." Your smile faltered and Elliot leaned his forearms on your desk. "I watched you last night, and this morning, when you tried to finish your work in time for chambers. You squinted."

"I squinted?" You echoed.

He nodded, "And I wondered why on Earth you felt the need to hide something like that from me."

"Ell-"

"I like 'em." He interrupted, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you glanced away from his gaze. "And, uh, I think they fit you perfectly, so perfect that I want you to wear them more often." You stared at the detective while he sighed. "A little too much actually."

Laughter left your lips and Elliot smiled at the sound, relieved the tension had been broken. You rested your arms on your desk, leaning closer to him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Uh-huh." He sent you a toothy grin and the sight of him wearing the glasses, combined with his usual charm made your heart feel as if it was going to explode. "And I read somewhere that not wearing glasses can cause all kinds of effects. Blurred vision and headaches to name a few."

"You looked it up?"

He nodded, "Of course I did. I take your health seriously. And so should you. So please, wear the damn glasses."

You shook your head as you sat back in your chair, and Elliot was prepared to continue his argument when you opened the top drawer of your desk and took out your glasses, putting them on. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the desk again and your shoulders shook in silent laughter at how elated he was.

"God, you're sexy." His voice dropped several octaves and you blushed from his appreciative gaze.

"You are not so bad yourself, detective."

"I have to be frank, counselor, I had a whole evening planned, but I don't think I could make the drive home."

You bit your lower lip, drawing his attention to the movement, and nodded to the blinds. "You close the blinds and I'll lock the door."

You both hastily made your way around the room and once the door was locked, and the blinds were closed, only the faint glow from the desk lamp providing a source of light, you stopped Elliot from taking off the glasses.

"Keep them on?" You pleaded.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he placed his hands on your waist, your hands running up his chest as he leaned in, your noses brushing as he murmured, "Only if you will."

You closed your eyes when his breath tickled your lips, nodding as you moved your hands to the nape of his neck, leaning on your toes as your lips met fervently. You turned, walking backward as you undid his tie and the buttons of his shirt. Your giggles were muffled by his kiss when he picked you up, hovering over you on the couch.

If wearing your glasses elicited this reaction from him, you were never taking them off again.

#elliot stabler #elliot stabler x reader #law and order svu

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donald-trump-official · 1 year ago

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I’ll tell you what, my lawyers and I are building a ROCK SOLID defense to all these fake indictments. We have so much evidence of voter fraud ready to go. Tons of it. Believe me, everybody in that courtroom is going to walk out knowing the 2020 election was RIGGED. It’s going to be amazing. We’re gonna impeach and remove Joe Biden in that courtroom, believe me. By the end of the trial the judge is going to declare me president.

#trump speaks again #satire #donald trump #parody

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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The Younger Kind Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley doesn't know how he will be able to function if Meredith wins custody. As Noah cries in the courtroom, he whishes he would have done more to ensure this never happened. But when he watches you, terrified but supporting him anyway, he knows what he really needed this whole time was you.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

The courtroom was freezing cold. Your blazer was scratchy against your arms, and Noah was already crying. As soon as Bradley had to hand his son over to the court appointed counselor, Noah's tears started flowing. And now you were seated in the front row, right behind Bradley, but you couldn't slide down the bench to get to Noah. You couldn't even look at the back of Bradley's head for too long without feeling like it was suspicious.

So you sat there and listened to Noah softly ask for his dad over and over again while Judge Greene listed everyone who was present today. When your name was called, Meredith and her lawyer both turned back to look at you with identical sneers.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You kept telling yourself you would handle this, but you didn't even have to do anything yet, and you already felt ready to fold. But the soft sobbing from Noah and the fact that Meredith hadn't looked at her son once kept you motivated.

Both lawyers gave statements which were largely identical, each one claiming their client would be the better option to raise Noah. But you noticed that while Bradley was fighting for zero visitation rights for Meredith, she was doing the opposite. She seemed willing to have Bradley visit with Noah if she won today. And that made you nervous, because even to your untrained ears, it sounded like she was more flexible than him. She also made it clear she was going to fight for financial support.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please stand and give your statement," Judge Greene commanded. You had listened last night at Bradley's kitchen table while he read over his personal statement with Tracy, but hearing his deep, raspy voice shake now had you squeezing your hands to keep calm.

"My son turned four on April twelfth. For every single one of his birthdays, I have been the only parent involved in his life. If something needs to be done for him, I do it. I pay for everything. I care for him in every way. He only knows me," Bradley said, taking a deep breath. "His mother abandoned us. Both of us. And I know he's sitting right behind me and listening to everything I'm saying. And I can hear him crying, which is making it really hard to stand here right now. But I also know he has no idea who his biological mom is. I do not think it would be in his best interest to remove him from his home and the parent who loves him."

When Meredith stood to give her statement, you could tell she felt defensive. It was rolling off of her in waves. Her voice was harsh as she tried to make claims that you just couldn't believe. "Bradley has kept my son from me. For years I've tried reaching out to him, and I'm lucky to even get a response. So the idea that I could have abandoned them is preposterous. He never asked me for money, so I never gave it. Had he asked, I would have been more than happy to help provide. But along with that, changes in my lifestyle have meant that I'm ready to take full control of my son's custody. As his mother. And I'm more than willing to work with a court appointed counselor to ensure that visitation rights would be granted. I'm being more than fair. A mother is better equipped to care for her child than a father."

You were shivering in the cold room now, and while Bradley's posture had only incrementally changed, you could tell he was angry. But Tracy looked completely relaxed. How could that be? Meredith was a fucking liar! And Noah was whining for his dad! And nothing that was going on in this room was fair or just.

The lawyers were going back and forth like a verbal wrestling match now. It was impressive. Mesmerizing. When one of them seemed to have the upper hand, the other made a swift comeback. The only problem was, Meredith was being made to sound like a saint. You couldn't understand why Tracy wasn't going for the kill right now. The sooner this was over, the sooner you and Bradley could take Noah back to his house and let things go back to normal. The three of you eating dinner together would help Noah forget about his tears. You wanted your boys to pretend today never happened.

You watched Meredith's profile as she sat there, completely aloof when Judge Greene called the counselor and Noah up toward the bench. Noah pulled his hand away and ran right for Bradley, tears in his eyes again.

"It's okay, Bub," he soothed, dropping down from his chair to kneel in front of his son. "It's okay to go with them. It won't even take long."

"I want to go home," Noah hiccupped, looking between you and Bradley, knowing the comfort that one or both of you usually provided him. But none of that came right now. Bradley picked him up and handed him over with a soft kiss on the cheek. Noah wailed as he was carried off to the judge's chambers for some one on one questions with Judge Greene.

And Meredith sat there like she hadn't a care in the world while Bradley cradled his head in his hands on the table in front of him. Tracy tried to get him to drink some water from her bag, but he wouldn't. You reminded yourself not to look at him too much, and that's when Meredith caught your eye again. She was fighting to try to keep the smirk from her face as she tried to appear serious. You knew what she was probably going to have her lawyer ask you. You knew it was going to be ridiculous. But you didn't like the way she was looking at you like you were the only thing between her and what she wanted.

When Judge Greene returned empty handed, Bradley scrambled to his feet. "Where's Noah?" he asked, and Tracy was immediately trying to get him to sit down.

"In my chambers, coloring. He's just fine. Now, I'd like to call up some character witnesses."

You waited while three separate people spoke about Meredith like she was sunshine incarnate instead of a woman who left her son behind like he was nothing to her. Then your name was called. You made your way up to the seat near the front, and Meredith's lawyer wasted no time in trying to break you.

"You're a character witness for Bradley Bradshaw?"

"Yes," you replied, mortified by the way your voice shook. "I am."

"And how do you know him?"

You swallowed hard. "I babysit Noah on occasion." It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. Saying you were just Noah's occasional babysitter was a wholly inadequate representation of what the two of them meant to you. Of how much you loved them. You had to swallow against the sick feeling in your throat.

"Is that all you do when you're watching Noah? Or do you stay? Earn some money by doing things for Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Cold sweat broke out along your neck and chest, and your eyes shifted to Bradley without warning. He looked irate and red in the face, and you were already embarrassed after less than a minute of questioning.

"I object!" Tracy called out, waving her hand in the air. "That's hearsay. And irrelevant."

"Sustained," Judge Greene said calmly, as if there was no reason for you to feel like you were going to vomit right now. "Any further questions?"

But of course Meredith's lawyer had more questions for you. And they were all designed to make you look bad.

"How did you pay for nursing school? Did Lieutenant Bradshaw offer to give you an outlandish salary to spend time with him? Do you actually have any experience watching a child that age? How are you qualified to spend time with him? What sorts of questionable things did you find in that house?"

You tried to answer each question with calm composure, but soon you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your eyes were burning. You turned to the judge, but she gave you a bland look. You were on your own. So you took a deep breath, determined to finish this even if your voice was shaking again.

"As a nursing student, you must have access to prescription drugs. Do you use them?"

"No!" you said, having had just about enough of this. Bradley was rubbing his hand along his face, barely keeping it together. Tracy was looking at you, eyes pleading with you to hold it together. "I do not steal or use prescription drugs. I'm studying pediatric nursing. I'm more than qualified to take care of Noah."

"Would you be willing to be drug tested?" the other lawyer asked.

"Absolutely. You want blood? Urine? Hair? Depending on the lab, you could have results by the end of the day." Your jaw was clenched tight.

"One last question," he said with a smile. "Is it true that you seduced Lieutenant Bradshaw? And that you're pregnant with his child?"

The audible gasp that came from you mirrored Tracy's. Bradley was now gripping the edge of the table in front of him. You were shaking as you said, "I'll take a pregnancy test, too."

You would do it if they made you. But it didn't seem fair. Your relationship with Bradley didn't have anything to do with how he cared for Noah. It didn't have anything to do with how qualified you were to babysit. Tears filled your eyes, but you had promised Tracy you wouldn't cry. You watched through blurry vision as she jumped to her feet and approached your seat.

"He's badgering the witness with irrelevant questions!" she said, and Judge Greene told the other lawyer to sit down.

Tracy must have been able to tell you were shaken up, because she asked, "Can we take a short recess?"

"No," Judge Green replied with a sharp shake of her head. "Let's carry on with your questioning."

Tracy took her time walking back to the table and gathering her notes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your hands were still shaking when Tracy asked you, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"No. Never."

"Did he ever criticize the way you cared for his son?"

"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger now.

Tracy shuffled her papers and asked, "Does Lieutenant Bradshaw seem to be a loving and caring parent to Noah?"

"Yes," you replied with conviction.

"Now, can you tell me a little bit about how you injured your arm in the parking lot at Meyer Park?"

You watched the color drain from Meredith's face as you recounted the way she had scared you, forcing you to run to safety with Noah.

"And was that the only time you saw her prior to this morning?" Tracy asked.

"I saw her yesterday," you replied. "At the grocery store. I thought she was following me."

"Objection!" shouted the other lawyer.

"Sustained," responded Judge Greene. Your head was swimming with what you were supposed to say and what you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn't remember. And you could barely focus on Tracy. But she wanted you to get to the point. You could tell.

So you blurted out, "Meredith asked me if I was sleeping with Bradley to get to his money. She mentioned a life insurance payout and his expensive car."

"It's actually a Bronco," Bradley muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as Meredith slammed her hand down on the notebook in front of her and started whispering to her lawyer.

Tracy asked another question quickly while everyone else was distracted. "And what did you do when you left the grocery store?"

She was giving you an encouraging look, so you said. "I looked some things up online. About how her business filed for bankruptcy. And her home went into foreclosure. And she said in an interview after Noah was born that she doesn't have any kids."

"Objection!" the other lawyer shouted again.

"Overruled," said Judge Greene, and Tracy looked like just won the lottery. "Please continue," she said, brow creased in concern now.

You felt like an idiot as you told Tracy that you used Google to search for information about Meredith, but you just kept going.

"I found articles that suggest that her business went into bankruptcy because of mismanaged funds. And insider trading with her business partner. They were married, but it appears that he left her."

Every single time the other lawyer tried to object to what you were saying, the judge overruled it. And then Tracy urged you to continue. But you were shaking from a combination of anxiety and fear.

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, voice quivering again as you met Bradley's eyes. You'd never seen him look so distraught or so hopeful before. He was silently cheering you on, like he knew how strong you could be. So you kept going.

---------------------------

Bradley was practically ready to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't stand the way Meredith's lawyer kept yelling at you. He hated that he had to sit here in this horribly uncomfortable seat and just listen as your character got ripped to shreds. He wanted to take you and Noah home, order a pizza and watch a movie. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you didn't. And Bradley was so proud of how strong you were.

When Tracy started asking you questions, you sat up a little taller. You sounded a little bolder. And then Meredith was the one in a state of panic.

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, as you met Bradley's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the right reason to fight for custody of a child."

The room went silent for a second after that. And then Meredith stood up and said, "I've lost everything, okay? Everything! But Noah is my blood, and I have a right to him, too!"

Then chaos broke out. When Bradley stood and said, "Why do you want him now that you're broke, huh?" he felt Tracy's hands on his arm, pulling him back to his chair.

"Let her sink her own ship," she whispered, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. You were still sitting up in the front, perched on the edge of the seat like you wanted to run. He wanted to scoop you up like he always did, for your own comfort, but for his as well.

He listened to Meredith rant and try to blame him for everything as her lawyer begged her to sit. He listened to her call you a slut and claim once again that you were pregnant. She said she knows you bought pregnancy tests at the grocery store. So what if you were pregnant? It didn't have anything to do with Noah or Bradley's ability to take care of him. It didn't have anything to do with that fact that Bradley would never abandon a child like she had.

He watched Judge Greene remain completely calm as Meredith's lawyer finally got her to sit down. Then she stood and said, "Please bring me all written evidence. I'll have my decision shortly." Both lawyers handed her folders before she disappeared into her chambers.

"Where's Noah?" Bradley asked Tracy immediately, accepting a bottle of water from her.

"He's with the counselor. He's fine. And you did great."

"I barely did anything!" he growled, worried he hadn't done enough today. He'd done nothing compared to you. As you stood and made your way to the rows of benches behind him, you never met his eyes. He loved you. All he ever wanted to do was protect you from all of this. You shouldn't be here right now. If he lost Noah today, he didn't know how he was going to continue to exist. And you should have had no part in this nightmare.

He'd forced this on you in a way. Every step he took since he met you led you here. Bradley had tried so hard to cut you out, end things with you, but he was so fucking weak. He should have been more focused on Noah. But he had been. He'd been trying to find someone to date who would make him and Noah complete, or at least better. And despite his initial reservations, that was you.

When he turned to face you, your eyes snapped up to meet his. He'd never be able to thank you enough for everything you'd done for both of them. But he wanted to have the chance. He wanted you to know what you meant to him and to Noah.

"How long is this going to take?" he asked Tracy, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. He could hear Meredith talking, but he kept himself focused on his lawyer.

"Hard to say," she told him calmly. "Just keep breathing. Focus on your breathing."

So he did, and when he started to feel sick again, Tracy talked to him. And then Judge Greene was coming back out, and Bradley could see Noah through the door before it closed. Dread rose inside him as the judge had everyone in the room stand. He felt like his limbs weighed a million pounds as he faced the front of the room.

Every second of silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He almost had to reach for Tracy when Judge Greene said, "In light of today's testimonies and evidence plus the collection of evidence I reviewed leading up to the trial, I have reached a decision regarding the custody of Noah Bradshaw."

Bradley had to close his eyes. All of his senses were overwhelmed, and he was afraid he was going to breakdown.

"The following decision is a reflection of what is in the best interest of the child. Full custody is to be awarded to Bradley Bradshaw. There will be no visitation privileges. There will be no child support owed. The child's biological father is to be his sole guardian."

Bradley collapsed back down onto the chair as he cried. "Oh my god," he groaned, cradling his face in his hands. He was gasping for air as he felt Tracy's hand on his shoulder. He could see Meredith storm out of the room. He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time behind him as the counselor walked back out of the judge's chambers with Noah.

And then he was out of his chair again, rushing toward his son and scooping him up. "I colored you a monkey," Noah told him as Bradley smothered his whole face in kisses.

"I love it," Bradley promised him without even looking at the coloring sheet. "It's perfect, and I love it so much." He buried his face against Noah's neck and inhaled.

"And I colored a unicorn for Princess."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, holding him tight. "She's gonna love it, too."

"I know," Noah replied confidently. "I told them about how she brings me coloring books and cooks food like spaghetti. And how she plays blocks and reads and can sing good."

"You told them about Princess?" Bradley asked, turning to the back of the room. You were waiting patiently for them, a huge smile on your face as you bounced a little bit on your feet.

"Yep. I told them that she loves me and that you do too. Can we go home yet?"

As much as Bradley wanted to keep you separate from all of this, he needed you the whole time. And so did Noah. He rushed toward you and took you by the hand. "Now we can go home."

------------------------

You unlocked the front door with your key, and Bradley kissed you again. A huge smile was still plastered all over your face as you watched how much he loved his son. He ended up on his back on the living room floor while Noah sat on top of him and laughed. Bradley's suit was a wrinkly mess now as you knelt down next to them.

"You want spaghetti for dinner, Noah?" Your appetite was back, and you were ravenous. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley could do with a good meal as well.

"Yeah! And ants on logs!"

You kissed his chubby cheek and said, "Let me check on the raisin situation." Then you leaned down to kiss Bradley's lips, and he pulled you back for a second and a third.

He murmured, "I love you," before briefly swiping your tongue with his. You ran your fingers back through his hair and let your forehead rest on his.

"I love both of you." Then you kissed his nose and went to the kitchen, letting them have a little more time alone as they laughed on the floor.

As you set a pot on the stove to boil some water, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like a combination of stress and relief and happiness. You sank to the floor with your back to the cabinet and cried. When you left the courthouse with Bradley, Meredith was nowhere to be found. Bradley had hugged Tracy with tears in his eyes, and she promised to be in touch with him soon to take some final actions. And then she told you that you had done a great job of staying calm and presenting evidence against Meredith while acting as a character witness. "I wish everyone was as professional as you."

Her words echoed in your head as you remembered that you didn't live here with Bradley and Noah. Not really. You were still going to need to finish writing your final papers for school and start looking for a job to support yourself. Because contrary to what Meredith thought, you hadn't been fucking Bradley to get him to pay your tuition. You had a mountain of loans to pay off now. And really, it would be better if you left after dinner tonight and went home. You'd have to get used to a routine where Bradley was your boyfriend with his own space.

Noah came running in a minute later as you wiped your eyes. "I'm hungry," he informed you, sitting down on your lap. Bradley walked in without his suit coat on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose, and his top few buttons were undone.

"How about I make dinner and you just supervise?" he asked, pulling you to your feet. "You had a long day, too."

So you nodded at him, and he picked you up and set you on the counter. And then he set Noah on your lap and started the playlist you made. You showed him how to brown the meat and add the sauce. You showed him how to keep the spaghetti noodles from sticking together.

And as he was plating the food, he paused and looked at you. "I forgot. I picked something up at the store the other day for us to celebrate with. Wait here." He dashed out of the room, and you slipped down off of the counter with Noah in your arms. You finished getting the spaghetti onto plates and pulled out the carrots to make him some ants, and then Bradley was back in the kitchen with the biggest bag of Skittles you had ever seen.

Laughter bubbled out of you along with another sob. "I'm happy, but I can't stop crying."

He tossed the Skittles aside and grabbed you by the hips. "That's because you really care about us. You always have. And you saved us today."

The prickle of his mustache against your skin had you parting your lips for him. He held you close, his thumbs stroking you through your pants as you worked your fingers through his hair. "I love you," he rasped, releasing your lips in favor of whispering the sexiest, loveliest things in your ear while Noah made a huge mess of spaghetti at the table.

--------------------------

Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 26

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emjayewrites · 3 months ago

Text

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (9/15)

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 @ffenthusiastt

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

CHAPTER 9: New Horizons

Rorie stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the sleek Tommy Hilfiger outfit she was wearing for the promotional photoshoot. The partnership felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the recent turmoil. She smoothed down the crisp white blouse, tucked neatly into tailored navy trousers, a look that perfectly blended sophistication with her signature laid-back style.

"You look stunning, Rorie," the photographer called out. Rorie smiled, ready to face the cameras.

This shoot in the Culver City studio was the final piece of her campaign with Tommy Hilfiger. Most of the work had been done in New York a few weeks back - a whirlwind three days of shooting on the bustling streets of Manhattan, in Central Park, and atop a skyscraper with the city skyline as a backdrop. Those images had captured the essence of the brand's urban chic aesthetic, with Rorie as the perfect embodiment of modern, dynamic womanhood.

Today's shoot was for some additional lifestyle shots - casual moments that showed off the versatility of the collection. Rorie moved through a series of poses, from lounging on a minimalist sofa to standing by floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft California light adding a warm glow to each frame.

Between shots, Rorie chatted with the styling team, discussing the collection and her excitement about the partnership. It felt good to focus on her career, to have something positive to pour her energy into after the recent drama. And speaking of it, Deja finally managed to shut her mouth and stay off of social media.

That bitch needs her ass whooped...maybe I should've let KiKi drag her.

A couple of days ago, many of her good friends, KiKi being one of them, came to her defense and even threatened to hunt Deja down and let her reap the consequences of spreading lies, but as usual, Rorie was above the nonsense, and decided against it. Unfortunately, the damage from Deja was already done, and making things worse was not ideal, especially for her lawyers. A mixture of messages, ranging from support to vitriol continued to arrive daily in her comments and DM's, so much so that she had to disable both to safeguard her mental wellbeing.

All in all, work and home life was a welcomed - and needed - distraction from all of the bullshit.

"That's a wrap!" the director called out after a few hours. Rorie let out a small sigh of relief. As much as she enjoyed modeling, it was always intense work.

As she changed back into her own clothes, her phone buzzed with a message from Lewis:

Dinner with Fred Vasseur tonight. Big news. Love you.

Rorie's heart raced. She knew what this dinner could mean - a potential move to Ferrari for Lewis. It was exciting and terrifying all at once.

Later that evening, Rorie and Lewis arrived at Spago, Wolfgang Puck's flagship restaurant in Beverly Hills. As they approached the table, Fred Vasseur and his wife, Marie-Laure, stood to greet them.

"Lewis!" Fred exclaimed, embracing Lewis warmly and kissing him on both cheeks. "And the lovely Rorie," he continued, offering her the same warm greeting.

Marie-Laure followed suit, her elegant perfume wafting as she leaned in to kiss Rorie's cheeks. "It's wonderful to see you both," she said with a genuine smile.

As they settled into their seats, the sommelier approached, and after a brief consultation, Fred ordered a bottle of Château Margaux. "To celebrate old times and new beginnings," he said with a wink.

They then perused the menu, and the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from Lewis's recent races to Rorie's upcoming partnership with Tommy Hilfiger.

"I can't wait to see some of the campaign photos," Marie-Laure commented. "You'll bring such vitality to the brand."

Rorie's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. It's been an exciting project to work on."

After their appetizers were cleared away, Fred leaned in, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "So, Lewis," he began, swirling his glass of wine. "How would you feel about wearing red in 2025?"

Lewis glanced at Rorie, who nodded encouragingly. She could see the spark of excitement in his eyes, but also a hint of hesitation.

"I've been thinking," Lewis began, his voice thoughtful. "I've been with Mercedes for so long, and Toto has been incredible. But we haven't been winning races or championships lately, and I'm not getting any younger."

Fred nodded understandingly. "We know it's a big decision, Lewis. But we believe Ferrari can give you the car to claim those additional World Driver's Championships before you retire."

Lewis leaned forward, his expression serious. "If I come to Ferrari, I want to do more than just drive. I want to implement DEI trainings, make the team more inclusive, like I did at Mercedes."

"Absolutely," Fred agreed enthusiastically. "We've been impressed by your work off the track as much as on it. Your vision aligns perfectly with where we want to take Ferrari."

Rorie watched the exchange with pride, seeing Lewis's passion for both racing and social change shine through.

"It's not just about the championships," Lewis continued. "It's about leaving a lasting impact on the sport and the team."

Marie-Laure smiled warmly. "And that's exactly why we want you, Lewis. Your influence extends far beyond the racetrack."

As the main course arrived, they delved deeper into the details - the contract terms, the vision for the future, and the potential impact Lewis could have on the team culture.

By the time dessert was served, the foundations of a deal were firmly in place. As they said their goodbyes, with promises to finalize everything in the coming weeks, Rorie felt a mix of emotions washing over her. This move would be huge for Lewis's career and his broader goals, opening up new opportunities and challenges.

The drive back to their Malibu home was quiet, the usual LA traffic surprisingly light. Lewis held Rorie's hand tightly as he navigated the nighttime streets, the city's lights twinkling around them. Despite the silence, Rorie could sense the nervous energy still bubbling within Lewis. His thumb absently traced circles on her hand, a telltale sign of his racing thoughts.

Once home, they relieved Nina and settled in the backyard, watching the waves crash against the beach in the distance. The rhythmic sound of the ocean provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"It's a big change," Rorie said softly, breaking the silence.

Lewis nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "It is. But it feels right, you know? A new challenge, a chance to make a real difference."

They talked about the potential move to Ferrari, the excitement and the apprehension intertwining in their words. The conversation then shifted to the ongoing situation with Deja.

"I still can't believe she did this," Lewis said, shaking his head.

Rorie sighed. "I know. And even though KiKi wants to fight Deja, she's still acting weird herself."

"What do you mean?"

"Tia told me that KiKi's back with her ex," Rorie replied hesitantly.

Lewis's brow furrowed. "Khalil?" When Rorie nodded, he let out a frustrated groan. "I thought she was done with him. What about Miles?"

Rorie leaned into Lewis's side. "Apparently, Miles was trying to move things into more serious territory, and KiKi got scared. Tia thinks it's because of her low self-esteem, and how Khalil never wanted to commit to her before."

"So she's falling back into old patterns," Lewis mused.

"Yeah. The girls and I are planning to talk to her about it. Kind of like an intervention, I guess."

Lewis chuckled softly. "Sounds intense. But necessary, probably."

Rorie nodded. "And... I think we both need to apologize to KiKi too. For placing suspicion on her. I feel so bad that we did that."

Lewis was quiet for a moment before agreeing. "You're right. We haven't been the best friends we could be." He pressed a kiss to his wife's temple. "Whatever comes next, we've got this," he murmured.

Rorie smiled, snuggling closer to him. "Together," she agreed, as the waves continued their endless dance with the shore.

The next few days went by quickly. With the Las Vegas Grand Prix approaching, Rorie found herself juggling preparations for an Almave pop-up bar during race weekend alongside her usual responsibilities. Managing multiple homes at once was proving to be a Herculean task. Their London house was undergoing renovations, with Lewis's brother Nicolas supervising the work. Her family was currently at their Colorado home, where she'd just hired a new housekeeper. The Monaco penthouse needed attention, and of course, there was their Malibu home to consider.

Rorie sighed as she thought about Luisa, their Malibu housekeeper, who'd been sick lately and rather short in their conversations. She made a mental note to send over a care package. As she juggled all these balls, along with her growing list of campaigns and ambassadorships, Rorie couldn't help but wish she were an octopus, with enough arms to handle everything at once.

"I really need to consider hiring a personal assistant," she muttered to herself as she confirmed yet another appointment.

Amidst all this, Rorie found solace in quiet moments at home with Lyric and Roscoe. Watching Lyric toddle after Roscoe, giggling with delight, Rorie felt content, which made her upcoming OB/GYN appointment all the more significant.

The day of the appointment soon arrived, and Rorie found herself in Dr. Chen's office. The waiting room was a vibrant space, with walls painted in soothing shades of blue and green. Colorful artwork adorned the walls, interspersed with framed photographs of smiling babies - all delivered by Dr. Chen herself. Soft background music and the gentle burble of a small fountain in the corner was a nice touch of calmness, and a refreshment station offered water, herbal teas, and fresh fruit, adding to the welcoming atmosphere.

In one corner, a play area was set up with soft foam mats and an array of toys. Lyric immediately gravitated towards it, joining a couple of other children in stacking blocks and rolling toy cars. Rorie and Lewis settled into the plush chairs, watching their son play.

"He's getting so big," Lewis murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice.

Rorie nodded, squeezing his hand. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

Lewis nodded, his eyes soft as he watched their son. "Do you think he's ready to be a big brother?"

Rorie considered for a moment. "I think so. He's been so gentle with younger kids at playgroup. We'll need to prepare him, though."

"Maybe we could start reading him books about being a big brother," Lewis suggested. "And involve him in setting up the nursery when the time comes."

"That's a great idea," Rorie agreed. "We should also make sure to give him extra attention, so he doesn't feel left out."

Their conversation was interrupted as a nurse in cheerful floral scrubs called their name. "Hamilton family?" she said with a warm smile.

Lewis stood, scooping up Lyric who protested leaving his new playmates. "Come on, little man," Lewis said, settling Lyric on his hip.

The nurse led them down a corridor lined with more baby photos and inspirational quotes about parenthood. "He's adorable," she commented, grinning at Lyric. "How old is he now?"

"Sixteen months," Rorie replied proudly.

"Oh, a big boy!" the nurse said, smiling at Lyric. "Are you being good to your Mommy and Daddy?"

"Say 'no'," Lewis joked, lightly pinching his son's cheek and causing the nurse to laugh.

They entered Dr. Chen's office, which was just as inviting as the waiting room. Soft, natural light filtered through gauzy curtains, and potted plants added a touch of nature to the space. The examination table was draped with a colorful, patterned cloth, making it look less clinical.

Dr. Chen greeted them warmly, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "How are we all doing today?" she asked, giving Lyric a little wave. As Rorie settled onto the examination table, Lewis sat nearby with Lyric on his lap. "And how have you been feeling, Rorie?"

"I've been feeling pretty good," Rorie replied. "A bit nauseous in the mornings, and I've had some weird cravings."

Dr. Chen nodded, making notes. "And you took a home pregnancy test, correct?"

"Yes, it was positive," Rorie confirmed, hope evident in her voice.

Dr. Chen began the ultrasound, and the room fell silent. Lewis held Rorie's hand tightly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. They both watched the screen intently, hope and anxiety mingling in the air.

As the minutes ticked by, Dr. Chen's brow furrowed in concentration. She moved the wand, checking different angles, her expression growing more concerned. Finally, she set down the wand with a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," she said gently, "but I'm not detecting a heartbeat. It appears to have been a false positive."

Disbelief etched on her face. "But... I've been feeling nauseous. I've had cravings. I haven't had my period..."

Dr. Chen's voice was compassionate as she explained, "Sometimes, stress can mimic pregnancy symptoms. Given everything that's been happening in your life recently, it's possible that stress is the cause of these symptoms."

Rorie fell silent and her heart sank, tears welling up in her eyes as she processed the information. Lewis, sensing her withdrawal, spoke up. "What are our options moving forward, Dr. Chen?"

Dr. Chen's tone was gentle but optimistic as she replied, "We still have two embryos frozen from your previous IVF cycle. If you're ready, we could discuss trying IVF again."

She went on to explain the process in detail, outlining the steps, potential risks, and success rates. Throughout the explanation, she maintained a tone of gentle encouragement, emphasizing that there were still possibilities ahead.

As Dr. Chen finished speaking, she offered them a moment alone. "Take all the time you need," she said softly, before stepping out of the room.

In the quiet that followed, Lewis enveloped Rorie in a tight embrace, Lyric nestled between them. Rorie clung to him, still processing the news. As her initial shock began to subside, she looked down at Lyric, who was watching them with curious eyes. Tears began to fall freely down Rorie's cheeks, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

Lyric, sensing his mother's distress, reached out a tiny hand and placed it gently on Rorie's wet cheek. The innocent gesture of comfort broke something inside her.

"Oh, my sweet baby," Rorie whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She pulled Lyric closer, crying into his soft curls. Between sobs, Rorie turned to Lewis. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say, her words muffled and broken.

Lewis shook his head, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay, love. It's not your fault," he said softly, wrapping his arms around both Rorie and Lyric. "Remember what Dr. Chen said? These things happen, and we still have options." He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice steady and reassuring. "I love you, Rorie. We'll get through this together, I promise."

Rorie nodded, unable to speak through her tears but drawing comfort from Lewis's words and the warmth of her family's embrace. Lyric, not fully understanding but instinctively offering comfort, snuggled closer to his mother.

In that moment, surrounded by the love of her husband and son, Rorie felt a glimmer of hope through her grief. The path ahead was uncertain, but she wasn't walking it alone.

As they prepared to leave, Rorie found her voice again. "Maybe we should take some time to think about the IVF," she said quietly. "We have a lot going on right now."

Lewis nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Of course, love. We'll take it one day at a time."

The neon lights of Las Vegas blazed against the night sky, casting a surreal glow over the city as it prepared for its inaugural Grand Prix. Lewis stood on the balcony of his suite at the Wynn, taking in the spectacle below. The energy was electric, but Lewis felt oddly disconnected from it all.

His mind wandered to Rorie, back in Colorado with Lyric. She had been withdrawn since their visit to Dr. Chen, the false positive pregnancy test hitting her harder than either of them had anticipated. Lewis had encouraged her to sit this race weekend out, to focus on her mental health, but her absence left a palpable void.

The news had been tough on him too. He'd allowed himself to imagine their family growing, Lyric becoming a big brother. But as Dr. Chen had gently reminded them, they still had options. Two frozen embryos waited, a possibility for the future. Yet, Lewis knew the decision to try again had to be Rorie's.

Shaking off his melancholy, Lewis headed down to the lobby where his best friend, Miles, was waiting. The Vegas strip was awash with Formula 1 fever. Billboards flashed with images of drivers, including the debut of Lewis's own Fortnite skin. Rorie's Tommy Hilfiger campaign was also debuting this weekend, her face gracing billboards throughout the city.

Lewis had reluctantly attended the Almave pop-up earlier, putting on a brave face for the cameras despite his heavy heart. Now, he and Miles made their way to Delilah, the Art Deco-inspired supper club within the Wynn.

As they settled into their booth, Miles studied his friend's face. "How's Rorie doing?"

Lewis paused, his fingers tracing the rim of his water glass. "It's been tough," he admitted. "She's withdrawn, barely talking. I don't know how to reach her sometimes."

"And how are you holding up?" Miles pressed gently.

Lewis's composure cracked, tears welling in his eyes. "I'm trying to be strong for her, but man, it's hard. We wanted this so badly."

Miles reached across the table, squeezing Lewis's shoulder supportively as his friend wiped away tears.

As their meal progressed, Lewis opened up more about the pressures he was facing - the lawsuit, Rorie's father reaching out, and the potential move to Ferrari.

"He says he's going to be here this weekend, and wants to talk again," Lewis said, his voice tight with frustration. "I just… I don't know how to handle all of this."

Miles listened intently, offering words of support and gentle advice. "Have you thought about going back to therapy?" he suggested. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot, bro."

Lewis shook his head. "I can't right now. I need to be there for Rorie, for Lyric. They need me to be strong."

Miles leaned forward, his expression serious. "Lewis, listen to me. You can't pour from an empty cup. You need to take care of yourself too. Rorie would want that."

As they were leaving the restaurant, a familiar face caught Lewis's eye. Deja stood near the bar, her gaze locking onto him.

"Lewis," she called out, her voice carrying a mix of anger and hurt.

Lewis tensed, his bodyguards immediately alert. "Deja, I have nothing to say to you."

"Of course you don't," she scoffed. "But I have plenty to say. Like how you're letting Rorie play the victim when she's the one who stole you from me."

Lewis's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"New Orleans, 2017. All-Star weekend," Deja spat. "We met at the club, danced, kissed. You promised me we'd be together! You said I was special!"

Lewis shook his head, genuinely perplexed. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember. I was partying a lot back then. If we did hook up, I apologize, but it was just that - a hookup."

Deja's face contorted with rage. "Just a hookup? You know what, Lewis? I'm glad I met with The Sun's PI. The truth is finally coming out, and I couldn't be happier. You think you can just use people and forget about them?"

"Deja, I—" Lewis started, but she cut him off.

"No, you listen! You ruined my life, and now I'm going to return the favor. You and that bitch Rorie deserve each other! I'm going to make your life miserable!"

Lewis's bodyguards stepped in, creating a barrier between them as the situation escalated. "We need to go, sir," one of them urged.

As they hustled Lewis and Miles out of the restaurant, Deja's angry shouts echoed behind them. "You're a liar, Lewis Hamilton! This is just the beginning!"

In the elevator, Lewis leaned against the wall, his jaw clenched. "I can't believe this," he muttered, then slammed his fist against the elevator wall. "Damn it!"

Miles watched his friend, concern etched on his face. "Talk to me, bro. What's going through your head?"

Lewis ran a hand over his face, frustration evident in every movement. "I'm trying to make sense of it all. All-Star weekend 2017... that was a year before I even met Rorie. Why is Deja so hung up on this?" He paced the small space of the elevator. "I mean, I partied a lot back then, sure. But promising someone we'd be together? That doesn't sound like me, even at my wildest. I'm trying to remember that weekend, but it's all a blur."

Miles shrugged his shoulders. "The bitch is crazy, bro. Don't try to rationalize delusion."

Lewis shook his head, still trying to piece together fragments of memories. "But what if there's some truth to it? What if I did something I don't remember?"

"Look," Miles said firmly, placing both hands on Lewis's shoulders to stop his pacing. "Even if something did happen - which I doubt - it was years ago. You weren't with Rorie then. You didn't do anything wrong."

The elevator dinged as they reached their floor. As the doors opened, Lewis took a deep breath, his mind still racing. "You're right. I just... I hate that this is happening now, with everything else going on."

Miles nodded sympathetically. "I know, man. But we'll figure this out. One step at a time, remember?"

"One step at a time."

As they stepped out into the hallway, Lewis felt a mix of emotions - anger at Deja's accusations, confusion about the past, and a deep longing for Rorie and the simplicity of being with his family.

-------------------------------------------------------

This was not his weekend. At all.

Lewis stared at his phone, scrolling through the TMZ article that had somehow materialized overnight. The drama with Deja at Delilah had made its way to the gossip mill, complete with blurry photos and sensationalized headlines.

His dad had left several texts and voicemails, rightfully upset about what had happened. Lewis sighed, knowing he'd have to deal with that conversation soon. But for now, he was grateful that there were no messages from Rorie. The last thing she needed was this added stress.

His Twitter notifications were exploding, a mix of support and criticism flooding his mentions:

@F1Fan2023: "Lewis, stay strong! We know the truth is on your side. #TeamLH" @GossipQueen88: "First the lawsuit, now this? What's really going on with Lewis Hamilton? 👀" @RacingEnthusiast: "Focus on the track, Lewis. Let your driving do the talking. #LasVegasGP"

As he made his way to the paddock, Lewis tried to push the social media noise out of his mind. He had a race to focus on, after all. The Las Vegas strip was alive with fans crowding the streets and celebrities flocking to the various events.

Just as Lewis thought he might be able to lose himself in the pre-race routines, he spotted a familiar figure approaching. Martin, Rorie's father, was making his way through the paddock.

"This motherfucker," Lewis muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the encounter.

"Lewis," Martin called out, his voice tentative but determined. "I need to talk to you about Rorie. She's not answering my calls again."

Lewis exhaled heavily. "Martin, now is really not a good time."

"I know about the lawsuit," Martin pressed on. "I want to help. I have resources—"

"It's not just that," Lewis cut him off, then paused. He shouldn't be saying this, but the words tumbled out anyway. "We've been trying to have another baby. We just got some tough news from our OB/GYN. Rorie's… she's struggling right now."

Martin's face fell. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Lewis said, turning away.

"Lewis, wait," Martin called after him. "I know I've gone about this all wrong, but I genuinely want a relationship with Rorie and my grandson. Her half-siblings, they want to know her too."

Lewis paused, conflicting emotions battling within him. He understood the desire for family, but his priority was protecting Rorie and Lyric.

"Look, Martin," he said finally, turning back. "I hear you. But this has to be Rorie's decision. And right now, she needs space. Can you respect that?"

Martin nodded slowly, a mix of disappointment and understanding on his face. "I can. Just… tell her I'm here when she's ready?"

Lewis gave a curt nod before walking away, his mind already racing ahead to the challenges of the day. As he reached for his balaclava, his phone buzzed with a text from Julian in all caps:

CALL ME NOW.

Moving to the back of the garage for privacy, Lewis dialed Julian's number.

"Julian, what's going on?"

"Lewis, we've identified the inside source giving Deja information," Julian said, his voice tense. "It's Luisa."

"What the fuck, man?" Lewis exploded, lowering his voice as he glanced around. "This fucking weekend is cursed."

Shit, maybe I need to douse myself in holy water.

"It'll be okay, Lewis." Julian tried to calm him down. "I'm preparing to file a motion to have her arrested—"

"No, don't do that," Lewis cut in. "Luisa has two kids. We can't…"

"What do you want me to do then?" Julian asked, frustration evident in his voice. "This is serious, Lewis. She invaded your privacy."

Lewis took a deep breath. "I'll handle it after the race. For now, just… keep this under wraps, okay?"

As he ended the call, Lewis felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. Between the race, the media circus, and the family drama, this Vegas weekend was turning out to be more complicated than he could have ever imagined.

Lewis took a deep breath, trying to center himself amidst the chaos swirling around him. The garage buzzed with pre-race activity, mechanics fine-tuning the car, team members hurrying back and forth with last-minute adjustments.

He pulled on his balaclava, the familiar routine offering a small comfort. As he reached for his helmet, Toto approached, concern etched on his face.

"Lewis, are you alright?" Toto asked, his voice low. "I've heard about the... incident last night."

Lewis nodded, grateful for Toto's discretion. "I'm managing. Just focused on the race now."

Toto placed a supportive hand on Lewis's shoulder. "Remember, we're here for you. Whatever you need."

As Lewis made his way to the car, he caught sight of Fred Vasseur in the paddock. Their eyes met briefly, and Fred gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. The potential move to Ferrari suddenly felt like it belonged to a different lifetime.

Settling into the cockpit, Lewis allowed himself a moment of calm. The familiar smell of rubber and fuel, the snug fit of the seat – it all helped to ground him. Here, in this space, he was just a driver. No drama, no complications. Just him and the track.

The radio crackled to life. "Lewis, how are you feeling? Car okay?"

Bono's voice made the corners of Lewis' lips quirk into a small smile. Although the car was still shit, at least it was somewhat better than the current reality of his life.

"All good," Lewis responded, his voice steady. "Let's do this."

"Alright, mate, whenever you're ready."

He pulled out of the garage for the formation lap, revving his engine as his mind began to clear. The neon lights of Vegas, the drama with Deja, the situation with Luisa, even the heartache over the false pregnancy – it all faded into the background.

For now, there was only the race. The grip of the tires on asphalt and the thrill of pushing machine and man to their limits. As the lights went out and Lewis launched off the line, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline.

Let's fucking go.

The crisp November air of Colorado bit at Rorie's cheeks as she stood on the balcony of their secluded home. The Rockies stretched out before her, their peaks already blanketed in snow, the evergreens dotting the landscape providing the only splashes of color against the white and gray backdrop. It was a view that usually brought her peace, but today, it felt more like a beautiful, wintry prison.

Lyric's laughter drifted from inside, where he was playing with Aaliyah. Rorie pulled her thick cardigan tighter around herself, grateful for her sister's presence; it provided a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

She glanced at her phone, notifications muted but the screen still lighting up periodically with incoming messages. The early sunset of late autumn had already painted the sky in deep purples and oranges. She knew she should check her messages, knew that Lewis was probably worried, but she couldn't bring herself to face the outside world just yet.

The news from Dr. Chen still felt raw, a constant ache in her chest. Each time she saw Lyric, bundled up in his winter clothes, a bittersweet mix of love and longing washed over her. He was growing so fast, and the thought that he might remain their only child brought a fresh wave of pain.

Rorie's eyes drifted to the mountain horizon again, where the first stars were beginning to appear in the clear, cold sky. She'd come here to find peace, to escape the pressure and drama that had been building back in L.A. But even here, in this beautiful winter sanctuary, she couldn't outrun her own thoughts.

Throughout the day, Rorie thought about her husband and his race in Vegas. When the final results came in, she felt a mix of emotions - pride in Lewis's efforts, but also disappointment at his P7 finish. Part of her felt guilty for not being there to support him, but another part was relieved to be away from the spotlight. The lawsuit, her biological father's attempts to reconnect, the constant scrutiny – it all felt overwhelming.

"Rorie?" Aaliyah's voice called from inside. "Lyric's asking for you. And it's getting cold out there!"

Taking a deep breath of the pine-scented air, Rorie turned from the view and headed back inside to the warmth of the house. As she scooped up her son, feeling his warmth through his soft sweater, she felt a small spark of hope ignite within her. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she had this – the love of her family, the strength she knew resided within her.

"Mama," Lyric babbled, patting her cheek.

"I'm here, baby," Rorie murmured, holding him close. "Mama's here."

She settled on the couch with Lyric, and Aaliyah joined them, draping a warm throw over their laps. Rorie allowed herself this moment of peace, surrounded by the love of her family and the quiet strength of the snow-covered mountains.

Rorie heard the soft murmur of voices from the kitchen. Her mother, Marian, and stepfather Greg were preparing dinner, the comforting aroma of homemade stew filling the air.

"How're you holding up, sweetie?" Aaliyah asked, settling beside them and tucking the throw around their legs.

Rorie sighed, bouncing Lyric gently on her knee. "I'm... managing. It's just a lot, you know?"

Aaliyah nodded sympathetically. "I can't even imagine. But we're all here for you, Ror. You know that, right?"

Before Rorie could respond, Marian entered the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Dinner's almost ready, girls. Rorie, honey, have you checked on Lewis?"

Rorie shook her head, a twinge of guilt passing through her. "Not yet, Mom. I just... I needed some time."

Marian sat down on the armchair across from them, her eyes filled with concern. "I understand, baby. But remember, you two are a team. Don't shut him out."

Greg appeared in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. "Your mother's right, Rorie. And speaking of shutting people out, there were at least a dozen paparazzi camped outside our house this morning. Mrs. Weatherly said it's still a circus back there."

As much as she was nosy, Mrs. Weatherly, her parents' elderly neighbor, was still a good person and kept them updated about everything.

Rorie groaned, burying her face in Lyric's braids. "I'm so sorry you guys got dragged into this mess."

"Hey, none of that," Greg said firmly, moving to sit on the arm of Marian's chair. "We're family. Your battles are our battles."

"That's right," Marian added. "And we'll face them together, just like we always have."

Lyric, sensing the tension in the room, began to fuss. Rorie stood up, bouncing him gently. "Shh, it's okay, baby. Mama's got you."

As she paced the room, soothing Lyric, Aaliyah spoke up. "Have you thought about what you're going to do about... everything? The lawsuit, Martin trying to make contact..."

Rorie paused by the window, looking out at the snow-covered landscape. "Honestly? I don't know. It all feels so overwhelming sometimes."

"One step at a time, honey," Marian said softly. "You don't have to figure it all out at once."

Greg nodded in agreement. "And whatever you decide, we've got your back. All of us."

Rorie felt a lump form in her throat, touched by the unwavering support of her family. "Thanks, you guys. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Just then, the timer in the kitchen went off. "That'll be the cornbread," Greg said, standing up. "I'll go grab it."

As he left the room, Marian turned to Rorie. "Why don't you go freshen up before dinner? I'll take Lyric."

Rorie hesitated for a moment before handing Lyric over to her mother. As she headed upstairs, she paused at the landing, looking back at her family gathered in the living room. Despite everything, she felt a surge of gratitude.

In her room, Rorie finally picked up her phone. Several missed calls and messages from Lewis, all expressing love and concern. Taking a deep breath, she typed out a message:

I'm okay. We're okay. Call you later. Love you.

As she hit send, Rorie felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. Rorie descended the stairs, and the rich aroma of Greg's famous cornbread filled the air, mingling with the hearty scent of the stew. The sound of Lyric's giggles echoed from the kitchen, bringing a small smile to her face.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Marian was at the stove, stirring the stew with one hand while balancing Lyric on her hip. Greg was carefully cutting the cornbread, while Aaliyah placed items in the dishwasher.

"There you are," Marian said, noticing Rorie. "Feel better?"

Rorie nodded, moving to take Lyric from her mother. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mom."

As they settled in the living room with bowls of steaming stew and plates of Greg's famous cornbread, Greg turned on the TV. The Broncos vs Vikings game was just starting.

"So, Aaliyah," Greg said between bites, "how's that new project at work going?"

As Aaliyah launched into a story about her latest architectural design, Rorie felt herself relaxing. The normalcy of family dinner and football was exactly what she needed.

Greg, ever the Eagles fan, watched the game intently despite neither team being his favorite. "You know," he said during a commercial break, "I'll watch any football game, but it's a bit more interesting now that Lewis is one of the Broncos' owners. Speaking of which, Rorie, does Lewis have any plans for trades? I've got some ideas..."

Rorie couldn't help but laugh, the first genuine chuckle she'd had in days. "Dad, you know Lewis doesn't really deal with trades and that kind of thing, right? But I'll be sure to pass along your suggestions."

Marian rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Greg, leave the poor man alone. I'm sure he's got enough on his plate without your armchair quarterback advice."

As they continued to eat and watch the game, Rorie felt a sense of normalcy wash over her. The warmth of the stew, the comfort of her family, and the familiar sounds of football commentary created a cocoon of safety, if only for a moment.

After dinner and the game, Rorie excused herself to put Lyric to bed. She carried him upstairs, and she could feel the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. In the nursery, she gently changed Lyric into his pajamas, humming softly as she did so.

"Time for sleep, my little love," she whispered, placing him in his crib. Lyric gazed up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, his tiny hand reaching out to grasp her finger.

As she tucked him in, she whispered, "Daddy did his best today, baby. We're always proud of him, aren't we?" Lyric mumbled something unintelligible in response, already drifting off to sleep. Rorie stood there for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, finding a moment of peace in the simple act of motherhood.

With Lyric settled, Rorie retreated to her room, closing the door softly behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone for a long moment before finally dialing Lewis's number. Her heart raced as it rang once, twice...

He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, babe," his voice was tired but warm, instantly soothing her frayed nerves.

"Hi," Rorie said softly, curling up against the headboard. "Tough race today, huh?"

Lewis sighed, and she could almost see him running a hand over his face as he often did when frustrated. "Yeah, not our best. The car just didn't have the pace we needed. Felt like I was fighting it the whole time."

"You did your best, though. That's what matters," Rorie assured him.

"Thanks, love. But that's not even the half of it. Rorie, I need to tell you something, and it's... well, it's not good."

Rorie felt her stomach tighten. "What is it?"

He proceeded to recount his encounter with Deja at Delilah, describing the heated exchange and her claims about their supposed history. Rorie listened, her free hand clenching the bedsheet as Lewis spoke.

"She was yelling about how we met in New Orleans during All-Star weekend in 2017, saying I promised her things. I swear, Rorie, I don't remember any of it. If something did happen, it was just a hookup, nothing more."

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to process this information. "I believe you, Lewis. But why is she doing this now? After all this time?"

"I don't know," Lewis admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "She seems convinced that you 'stole' me from her or something. It's crazy, Rorie. We hadn't even met in 2017."

Rorie's mind raced. "Do you think she's just looking for attention? Or is there more to it?"

"I wish I knew. But there's more, and this... this is going to be hard to hear."

Rorie braced herself. "What is it?"

"Julian called me today. He found out who's been leaking information to Deja."

"Who?" Rorie asked, dreading the answer.

"It's Luisa," Lewis said, his voice heavy.

Rorie gasped, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. "Our housekeeper? But why would she— How could she—"

"I don't know," Lewis cut in, his own voice tight with emotion. "I told Julian not to do anything drastic. We'll figure it out when I get back. I just can't believe someone we trusted would do this to us."

Rorie felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I trusted her with Lyric, Lewis. She's been in our home, with our son... Oh God, what if she—"

"Hey, hey," Lewis soothed, "Lyric is safe. He's there with you and your family. We'll sort this out, I promise. We'll make sure he stays safe."

Rorie nodded, even though Lewis couldn't see her, wiping away a stray tear. "You're right. He's safe. We're safe."

There was a pause before Lewis continued, "Oh, and there's one more thing. My parents are planning to come to Colorado. They want to be there for us, with everything that's going on."

Rorie felt a wave of emotion wash over her. "That's... that's really sweet of them. When are they coming?"

"They're trying to get flights for tomorrow. Is that okay? I know it's a lot with everything else..."

"No, it's perfect," Rorie said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. "I think having them here will help. Your mom always knows how to make things better."

Lewis chuckled softly. "That she does. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie smiled, glancing at the baby monitor. "He's good. Missing his daddy, but good. He loved watching you race today. Kept pointing at the TV and saying 'Dada fast!'"

"I miss him too. Both of you. God, Rorie, I wish I was there with you right now."

"I know. Me too. But you'll be home soon, right?"

"Late tomorrow, I promise. Look, I know it's a lot to process. But we'll get through this together, okay? We always do. I love you, Rorie. You and Lyric are everything to me."

"We love you too," Rorie said, her voice thick with emotion. "Come home soon. We need you here."

"I will. Try to get some rest, okay? And Rorie?"

"Yeah?"

"We've got this. Together."

As they said their goodbyes, Rorie felt a mix of anxiety and determination. She lay back on the bed, her mind racing with everything Lewis had told her, but also feeling a glimmer of hope. Whatever came next, they would face it as a family. Rorie closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she allowed herself to find comfort in the love of her husband and the peace of knowing their son slept safely nearby.

KiKi sat in her car, parked a few blocks away from the trendy café where Deja was holding court with a group of her friends. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel as she watched Deja through the tinted windows. It was supposed to be a casual surveillance, but the longer KiKi sat there, the more her frustration simmered.

Deja had been a thorn in Rorie’s side for too long, and KiKi had been watching her closely, waiting for the right moment to strike. She’d seen Deja run her mouth to anyone who would listen, stirring up more drama, and generally making Rorie’s life hell. KiKi’s loyalty to Rorie ran deep, and the thought of Deja continuing to cause problems made her blood boil.

When Rorie had told her not to beat Deja’s ass, KiKi had nodded, promising to stay cool. But Rorie hadn’t said anything about not finding someone else to do it, and KiKi had taken that as a green light. Enter her cousin’s boyfriend’s sister, Nyla. Nyla was a wild card, known for handling business in a way that left no room for misunderstandings. KiKi had mentioned Deja’s antics to her in passing, and Nyla had practically volunteered for the job on the spot.

As KiKi sat there, her phone buzzed with a new message. She glanced down at the screen and saw it was from Nyla, who was already on the move:

On my way. Got the address. Bitch won’t know what hit her.

KiKi smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Nyla wasn’t one to play around, and KiKi trusted her to send a clear message. Deja had been playing with fire, and it was time she got burned.

KiKi’s gaze shifted back to Deja, who was laughing loudly, oblivious to the storm heading her way. The woman sitting next to KiKi in the passenger seat, a friend of Nyla’s named Tasha, shifted slightly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses as she leaned back against the seat. Tasha was cool and composed, her sharp eyes hidden behind the dark lenses. Her long braids were neatly pulled back, and she wore a leather jacket that matched her tough, no-nonsense demeanor. Tasha didn’t say much, but when she did, her words carried weight.

"She doesn’t look like much," Tasha remarked, her voice low and steady. "You sure this is the right one?"

KiKi glanced at Tasha, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Yeah, that’s her. Don’t let the cute face fool you—she’s a snake."

Tasha nodded slowly, taking another look at Deja. "Good thing Nyla doesn’t care what she looks like. She’ll get the job done."

"Damn right," KiKi muttered, her eyes narrowing as Deja tossed her hair and flashed a bright smile at something one of her friends said. "Rorie’s been through enough, and I’m sick of this bitch thinking she can just do whatever she wants."

Tasha didn’t respond, but KiKi could feel her quiet agreement. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that they were about to put an end to Deja’s antics, or at least slow her down. Rorie deserved peace, and if it took a little roughing up to get it, so be it.

KiKi’s phone buzzed again, this time with a simple message:

In position. Ready when you are.

KiKi grinned, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She fired off a quick reply:

Wait for her to leave. Don’t make a scene.

"Time to move," KiKi said, sliding her phone back into her pocket and starting the car. "Nyla’s got this."

Tasha nodded, her expression unreadable behind the sunglasses. As they drove away, leaving Deja to her fate, KiKi felt a sense of grim satisfaction. She hadn’t laid a finger on Deja, just as Rorie had asked, but she’d made sure the message would be delivered loud and clear.

KiKi’s car rolled smoothly out of the parking spot as she and Tasha headed away from the café. The sense of satisfaction in her chest grew with each passing second. Deja had no idea what was coming, and that was exactly how KiKi wanted it. But as much as she enjoyed the thought of Deja getting what she deserved, there was still work to be done. Loose ends needed to be tied up, and KiKi wasn’t about to let anything trace back to her or, more importantly, Rorie.

She drove to a more secluded area on the outskirts of the city, where Nyla had said she’d meet her after handling business. The rain had picked up again, the rhythmic drumming on the car roof only adding to the tension in the air. After about fifteen minutes, KiKi pulled into an abandoned lot, the dim streetlights casting long shadows over the wet asphalt. Nyla’s car was already there, parked under a flickering light. KiKi parked next to her, and she and Tasha stepped out, the cool night air biting at their skin.

Nyla was leaning against her car, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Her expression was calm, almost bored, as if she’d just finished running an errand instead of beating someone up in a parking lot, but there was a hard edge in her eyes that KiKi didn’t miss.

"Is it done?" KiKi asked as she approached, her voice low.

Nyla pushed off the car and nodded. "Yeah. the bitch didn’t even see it coming. Got her right as she was about to get into her car. Didn’t take much—she folded quick."

KiKi’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Good. And no one saw you?"

Nyla shrugged. "Even if they did, they won’t talk. But nah, it was clean. Just me, her, and the rain. She’s probably still trying to figure out what hit her."

Tasha chuckled quietly, pulling off her sunglasses now that they were out of the public eye. "Serves her right. Think she’ll back off?"

"She better," KiKi muttered, glancing at Nyla. "But just in case, we need to make sure this doesn’t trace back to us. No loose ends."

Nyla gave a small, dismissive wave. "Don’t worry about that. I made sure she didn’t know who I was. And if she tries to go to the cops, it’ll just look like she got into some random altercation. Ain’t nobody gonna believe her."

KiKi nodded, but her mind was already working through the possibilities, the what-ifs. She wasn’t one to leave anything to chance. "We’ll need to lay low for a bit, just to be safe. If anyone asks, we were nowhere near that café today."

Nyla smirked. "You’re paranoid, but I get it. Don’t worry. I’ve got an alibi, and I’m sure you two do too. We’re good."

KiKi sighed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Nyla was right—they were careful, and Deja was too rattled to put the pieces together, especially with the warning Nyla had delivered. Still, KiKi wasn’t one to let her guard down easily.

"Alright," KiKi said, glancing between Nyla and Tasha. "We’ll stick to the plan. If anything comes up, we handle it, but for now, we wait and see how she reacts."

Nyla nodded, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. "Cool. You know how to reach me if you need anything else. But trust me, she’s not gonna be a problem anymore."

KiKi offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Nyla. I owe you one."

Nyla shrugged, already heading back to her car with Tasha in tow. "Just doing what needed to be done. Catch you later."

KiKi got back into her car. The drive back to her hotel was silent, the satisfaction of the evening’s events mingling with the ever-present undercurrent of caution. KiKi knew they’d sent a message, but she also knew the game wasn’t over. Deja might be down, but she wasn’t out—and KiKi would be ready if she ever tried to come back for more.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #lewis hamilton x black reader #f1 x reader #private landing

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cimmcorg36 · 11 months ago

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pigeonpeach · 10 months ago

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Forced proximity

Prompt: forced to take shelter together from various environmental hazards, how will they handle being so close to you?

Characters: Shenhe, Diluc, Chevreuse, Dehya, Kaeya, Zhongli

Chevreuse

“My musket is waterproof, so we won’t be stopped with the rain.” She said as you ran with her to find shelter. You two had been trying to set up a trap for local criminals using you, a newbie as bait with her in the shadows. Normally you would be against this but you had actually used this before and you didn’t end up with even a scratch from it. As long as Chevreuse was the one you were working with, it was fine.

“I’m more worried about the hypothermia personally.” You complained. Your dainty dress was by no means waterproof. Infact it acted like a sponge, you would be warmer snuggling with cryo slimes than in this getup.

“Over there! There’s a ship wreck, that could offer some shelter if we’re lucky.” She said. The shipwreck seemed recent, probably from the flood of fontaine which displaced many. It seemed this one was relatively in good condition, rust only starting to form on its metal exterior. You ran in with her as you two quickly sought to remove your wet exterior clothes. “We’ll have to remove your dress, sorry if that’s uncomfortable but its just too drenched.” You were a bit surprised but understood.

“Yes I know, just give me sometime.” You said. It wasn’t easy but you knew it had to be done. What made it more difficult was how it clung to you. Hiding behind a broken wall, you undressed to your underwear. You looked to see if she was watching but she had her back turned, trying to get a fire started. You began to squeeze the water out, trying to not get it on you in the process. Next time you should ask for a jacket when she approaches you with the disguise.

“Are you done yet.”

“Almost.. there’s alot of water in this.” You groaned. You noticed she had successfully started a fire. Making sure to isolate it from any flammable objects. You were so cold at that point you just draped your wet dress over your self and sat a bit away from her.

“that bad huh. I’ll just keep my eyes elsewhere then.” She said. “I didn’t think it’d rain today, especially considering how warm it was a second ago.”

“That dastardly hydro dragon. Someone should give them emotional support animal at this rate.” you cursed under your breath.

“It’s probably that one ongoing trial with the serial killer. He’s go a bastard of a lawyer who’s really good at loopholes. Supposedly the final trial is today.”

“They’re not letting that pyscho back out surely?!” You jolted.

“Relax, all it takes is one slip up and he’s got no defense then. Besides, Neuvillette will definitely not let him go if he still considers him guilty.”

“You’re right but considering I fit the bill for his primary victims i can’t exactly sleep soundly until his head is off or he’s imprisoned! I wish Furina was still in the courts, she would’ve never let that man get this far.”

“I’m sure she has her own reasons, but considering how much help you’ve been I’m not going to let you go unguarded. I’ll schedule patrols by your district more and by your areas.”

“You would do that for me? I’m impressed. I didn’t know I did such a good job at being a damsel for hire.” You snickered.

“I mean it. Oh and by the way, your clothes look dry now.” She said. You almost forgot about that.

“Oh, give me a second.”you went back behind your wall to redress yourself, this time leaving the hoop skirt out of it.

“If you’re still cold we should huddle together. That way we can share body heat.” She said as you approached her once more. “My body is warmer than usual because of my vision after all”

“I’ll take you up on that offer then.” You smiled sitting much closer to her than she might’ve expected. “Do you mind a bit of cuddling?”

“With you? No.” She said, her arm wrapped around you almost on instinct. “You’re a bit more special than other people to me.”

“Do you tell that to every damsel you hire?” You tease.

“Oh god of course not! What do you think I am?” She cackled. “You make it sound like you’re some.. prostitute!”

“I am selling my body technically.” You added, jokingly, your head resting on her shoulders almost by instinct.

“Why did you take up that offer anyways? You have a good job, enough to live on the surface anyways.”

“Because I wanted to get stuck in the rain with you obviously! But in seriousness.. i uhh.. had a loan i had to pay and i spent a good majority on my paycheck already. So i needed fast cash and i saw the paper and i took it.” You explained.

“Huh, you sure you weren’t trying to hit on me? Because you were eyeing me during that little training session.” She adds.

“If that’s what you would like it be then yes I was hitting on you.” You said, your eyes trailed to her cheeks to catch a glimpse of her blushing face.

“Hm… I guess you were then.. lets get some rest.. the rain should let up by then.”

You couldn’t help feeling delightful that you finally broke her cold exterior. And with your body so close to hers, you truly felt victorious.

Diluc

“There. Its not much but it should offer some shelter in the meantime.” He said pointing to a old caravan. The roof of it was intact. You two quickly hid under there. Quickly finding your bodies pressed against each other.

“S-sorry.. i can’t move over any more.” You said nervously. But In reality, you didn’t want to move from his warm body at all. It felt like laying on a warm patch of sunlight.

“Its fine. I’ve been told I’m warm enough already. Here.” He took off his jacket, wrapping it across you.

“Thank you… and thank you for saving me from those hilichurls earlier too.” Your heart was racing, it sounded like his was too.

“Its nothing. Those knights, they were supposed to clear the area for merchants.” He scowled.

“Well, it was my fault for making the delivery without a jacket. I should’ve taken Sara’s advice and gone the long way. Its a good thing I still have it.” You managed to pull out the food in question, it was just a simple chicken skewers.

“I suppose you won’t be able to deliver it now, there’s no harm in having it if you’re hungry.” He said. But you offered it to him.

“Have one, you must be hungry. I can’t imagine its easy wielding a claymore on a empty stomach.. besides, there’s already one for myself”

“Why did they order chicken skewers, its the most simple dish to make?” He said almost judge-mentally.

“Well its a special one, we used a marinade for the chicken, try it.” You again offered it to him. He took it. You watched his eyes light up. “Good right? It would be better if it was warm.”

“I’m sure could try it while stopping by.”

“That sounds nice… you’re really warm by the way..” you blurt out. He looks surprised.

“I hope so. Are you warm too?” He asked. You nod.

“We should wait out the storm. I’m sure it shouldn’t be too long.” He said, you realized his face has been red this whole time.

“Although.. My winery isn’t too far from here.. but you said your foot hurt right?”

“I did earlier yes. I might’ve sprained it.” You sigh. “It feels fine now.”

“Hmm… that’s no good. Lets wait until it lightens up then. I can’t risk you injuring yourself further now.”

“I-if you want you could go ahead. It might be better so you’re not stuck out here too.” You say. He seems upset at the idea.

“Absolutely not. You could freeze to death. Lets stay here where I can keep you safe.” His words stuck out to you. Is it possible that he meant that in a more romantic context? Are you just overthinking it?

“I-I’m getting rather tired though.. I almost just want to sleep..” you said. Your eyelids felt a bit heavy, he was just… so warm, his body pressed up against you.. his arms around you… you hoped you would feel this again.

“I’ll keep watch. Just rest a little bit.” He said. As you drifted off to sleep you noticed a light kiss on your head.

“Cute.” He mumbled to himself.

Dehya

“Ugh! I’m so sick of the sand.” You and Dehya were taking shelter inside a cave, you were a professor at the Akademiya, you came out to the desert to study the giant ruin machines so you could do a lesson on them only to get caught in a sandstorm. Lucky for you, Dehya who you had hired, was well versed in the desert.

“Well that’s what you get. Lucky that you hired me, I’m certain you would have never found this cave.” She grinned proudly.

“I’m certain i’d be dead with that stupid wenut poking around. Ugh, what do those things even eat?!” You shook your clothes to get the sand out.

“Idk I’m not the scholar here so.” Dehya grinned.

“Hey my expertise is in machinery.. not oversized worms with no business of existing!” You fussed over your hair, to your shame, it hadn’t survived well. The hair tie you wore must’ve broken while you were busy trying to block the sand out of your eyes. “Ugh.. so much sand in my hair too… this is so unbecoming of me.”

“Unbecoming? You’re a scholar not a model.” Dehya said.

“Thanks.” You said sarcastically. “But I need to look professional and well put together. I’m not the prettiest sure but I should at least look like I am a scholar and not some rat drowing in sand!” You found your hair had also knotted together in what you horrifically realized was a huge mess. Not even your hairbrush could save you.. “oh god…” you winced as you got your hairbrush out, it felt painful to brush it out.

“Yikes.. let me help you there.” Dehya said. You turned to her.

“How is your hair fine!” You felt ashamed.

“I dunno, I wasn’t trying to fight the wind back there, but its really not that bad. Here just sit infront of me and I’ll help.”

“Well.. i guess you’re the expert on desert stuff.. do you encounter this problem alot?” You asked, obliging by her request.

“Oh definitely. Alot of eremite gals use praids or tie their hair up in some way. I could put yours in one if you like?”

“If any of it is salvageable that would be nice. You’re actually rather smart yourself.. you would do well in the ak-“

“Nope.”

“Why? I’m not trying to insult your job, especially right now, but I really think you could do alot more in your life!”

“Then who would you hire for all your little adventures then?” She said.

“Well.. there’s dozens of eremites, i could find another. I just think you have potential that you can’t explore in this position.” You sighed.

“I know you mean well but honestly I like it. There’s no way I’d give up the thrill of adventure and fighting for studying some stupid class like.. calculus.” Her voice carried a confidence you envied. But you noticed her hands were quite skilled, you didn’t feel any pain as she brushed out your knots.

“I’ll give you that, math isn’t the most interesting. But even just like reading some books might do you good! I’m not asking you to become my student I just think maybe investing in a library card could be useful!” You felt at ease strangely. You had been a regular of Dehya’s. Mostly because she was the most trustworthy by review, and also she was a woman. You didn’t exactly want to travel alone with just a man you didn’t know. And also she was rather pretty to look at.

“That is actually a interesting suggestion. I might take you up on that sometime.” She smiled. “Say, how come you always pick me? I heard from the other Eremites that you even canceled a whole trip you had planned because I wasn’t available.”

“W-well..” you blushed. “I just trust you the most. These conditions aren’t exactly easy for me and I’d rather traverse dangerous terrain with someone I trust and someone I know. Besides it gives me the opportunity to not rely on my colleagues’ decisions. I’m not as social as you might think.”

“You sure that’s it? You’re willing to sacrifice papers and lessons just because you don’t trust the other eremites? You know we didn’t start off besties here, what made you pick me in the first place? And it not like its just because I’m a girl, there’s plenty of female eremites out there well versed in combat like myself. I could recommend them to you.”

“I- just.. have a preference for you. Nothing wrong about that is there? Its more mora in your pocket so why should you care?” You pouted. She chuckled behind you.

“Easy now. I didn’t mean to sound like I was complaining. Its nice seeing how loyal you are to me.” You just feel her cocky smirk from behind. But your ego was quickly forgotten as she finished brushing out your knots, now starting to braid them. “If it does any good, you are my favorite customer. That and the traveler but its not like they hire me or anything. I’ve rather enjoyed our adventures. Maybe you should join the eremites~”

“Absolutely not! If i could handle it on my own then i would. Y-you do realize that- oh.. I see what you’re doing.” You sigh.

“See, its not fun when people question your career choices. Much less trying to push their own onto you. This is my dream job, I don’t need to take a class to perfect it.”

“Well to be honest I just would like to see you more that’s all.” You blurted out. Dehya realized you had been blushing this whole time. She seemed a bit surprised. “Those other scholars at the Akademiya are most old geezers with flies in their head reiterating the same sentiments with little flexibility. I much rather talk to you even if you don’t understand those concepts. I just… like to be around you that’s all.”

“Woah. That makes scholarly life alot less appealing you know?”

“I’m not trying to recruit you here! I just.. wanted a excuse to see you around more.” Silence fell between you two. You worried if you had been too open then, letting her know how you felt… “Y-you know there’s talk from Faruzan about opening a school or class in the desert. I think you could help with that.”

“That’s actually rather interesting. Whats her plan?”

“Oh just literacy. Its so they can read more complex topics. Oh and Kaveh was working on a library for the Aaru village too. I wanted to ask what books you think would appeal to the desert kids?” You added.

“Maybe if you have some textbooks that’d be easy or-“

“I mean like fiction. What did you want to learn about as a kid?” You said looking at her. You were a bit surprised to see such a fond look in her eyes. It made your heart thump ad your confidence wavered.

“Well.. I wanted to- hey.. the storms over.” Dehya said looking out at the entrance. You almost forgot about the storm.

“Oh.. maybe we should spend the night here just in case.” You said.

“You just want to keep talking don’t you.” Dehya smiled.

“Well yes. But also my feet are killing me still.”

Shenhe

“Its getting cold out, we need to seek shelter immediately.” Shenhe said. But it was only a light downpour. You felt a little whimsical.

“Oh its such a pretty sight. Rain in the snow.. oh I love it.” You quickly got out your camera to take a few photos. “There will be more icicles soon. Ooh it would make fo such a go- OH?” You quickly were picked up by Shenhe as she located a nearby hilichurl camp.

“Wait but what about- wait why is it empty.” You noted how old it looked. Dust collecting, various masks strewn about, broken. Shenhe set you down letting you looked around.

“I use this camp as my training grounds. Unfortunately they stopped trying to claim this area. But we should be aboe to take shelter in here.” She said. You were surprised by how nice it looked. Hay bedding, animal skins. You could easily make a bed with this. The roof did leak but it would do.

“I still think we could find somewhere better. The rain isn’t so ba-“ you were startled back into her arms as lightning struck not too far away. “Okay lets go inside..” you started to bunch up the hay together into a nest almost. Shenhe watched with curiosity.

“What is that for?” She asked.

“I’m making a bed. You can join if you would like. Its good to keep warm.” You said, bringing the animal skins to use as blankets. She joined you as you two cuddled in the makeshift bed.

“It is quite warm actually. You’ve done well.” Shenhe’s praise had you beaming with pride.

“Ah thank you… you don’t have to be so close you know?” You said.

“Do you want me to move away?” She seemed confused.

“Actually its fine. I don’t mind it.” You said.

“I’m getting rather tired.. you’re quite warm actually.” Shenhe pulled you in closer catching you off guard.

“O-oh. That’s good. I think we can take a rest. So long as No hilicurls come by.”

“They won’t. I laid out those masks to warn them not to come back. Its been months since any have returned.” She mumbled. “I should move them then. They make for good practice.”

“Lets not talk about murdering hilichurls right now please?” You asked.

“Right… so.. do you sleep outside often? You seem to know what to do.”

“No but I know that the barn cats use the hay in my family’s cellar for their bedding. I figured it must be comfortable.”

“You were right. This is quite nice.. I can imagine this bed would make many cat’s comfortable.” She said. You smiled at her imagination.

“Thank you.. I think… i may rest my eyes for a bit.. the sound of the rain outside is luring me to sleep, but im still nervous.”

“I’ll keep watch then. You get some rest.” She said. You smiled resting your head on her chest.

Zhongli

You were traveling with Zhongli, a funeral consultant on your way to Chenyu valley. But you two ran into a problem…

“I didn’t know it could rain like that here!” You felt spooked as you clung to the much taller male. “I just hope it doesn’t start to thunder ei-“ on cue lighting struck the bridge right infront of you.

“Lets find shelter then. Stay close to me. We don’t want to get separated here of all places.” His eyes scanning across the landscape. He spotted a cave and immediately pointed. “There. We should find some shelter there.”

You two quickly retreated into the cave, you silently thanked rex lapis that caves were abundant in this area.

“Lucky for us, there isn’t anyone else here.” He said as you two came in deeper. Finding it empty and relatively dry.

“I-its a shame we can’t make a fire. There isn’t any wood in here..” you lament. “I’m cold.”

“There seems to be a bit of a coal deposit here actually.” He said, poking at what just looked like a splot on the wall. “Here, I’ll retrieve it.” Using his Geo abilities he was able to crack some out of the wall. Putting it in s pile as you watched with fascination.

“You’re very well versed in rocks for a funeral director. Is it your geo vision or just your knowledge.” You asked.

“A mix of both, I’m quite well versed in the topic yes, but my vision does help.” He said. “Now we can use two rocks to make a spark.. we should be careful as coal leaves alot of smoke.” You took two stones and rubbed them against each other, looking to make a spark. It worked and a small flame started to grow.

“Excellent. We’ll stay here until the weather dies down.” You said, instinctively sitting next to him, leaning on him. He seemed a bit surprised. “O-oh sorry i didn’t mean to-“

“Oh it’s quite alright. It might help to cuddle for warmth. I hope you don’t mind.” He said politely.

“I-i don’t mind.” You said. His hand wrapped around you, not too tight but not to loose either. It felt rather nice like this. Your cheeks were tinted with red as he pressed himself against you.

“Are you comfortable right now?” He asked. You nodded. Maybe you should consider traveling with him a little more.

Kaeya

“You do know you’ll need more firewood than that.” Kaeya teased as you attempted to start a fire. You sighed.

“Then get some. Don’t just sit here and look pretty.” You grumbled as you rubbed the sticks together. He chuckled.

“Right right. And it was you who insisted they didn’t need a second jacket.” He smiled, you wore his cloak as he had offered it earlier.

“Well I didn’t expect us to stay the night here.”

“You should know a trip to dragonspine isn’t a one day venture. But with that out of the way, I’ll get some firewood.” He said leaving briefly. Just as he left you got the fire going. You smiled.

“See! I told you i could- oh right.” You said. Feeling his absence quickly. You huddled by the fire as you waited for him to come back.

It felt like he was gone forever when he finally came back. Arms full of firewood.

“Miss me?” He said as he noticed the frozen tears on your cheeks.

“No.. just come over here… you’re probably cold..” you said. Patting the ground besides you.

“Oh now you want to cuddle.” He smiled as he took your offer. Setting the firewood aside.

“You scared me you know..” you said.

“Well I just wanted to gather as much wood as possible. That way we can make it through the blizzard. These blizzards can last very long you know?” He snickered as you jolted.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You grumbled.

“I’m not trying to scare you. Just preparing you for the worst. Don’t worry, we have plenty of rations. And this fire is quite strong. You did a good job.” He smiled drawing his hand across your shoulder.

“Thanks..”you grumbled. You scooted closer to him as you felt a chill run down your spine. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy like this. But you do realize we still haven’t made it halfway to Albedo’s office right?” He said. You stared at him with a look of defeat.

“Ugh! I’m never going to make it!” You whined.

“Oh you’ll live.” He chuckled. “I’m here afterall. I’ll drag you up that mountain if I have to.”

“Well… I guess its good I have you then. I’d probably be dead by now if I went by myself.”

“Oh please, Jean would never send a new night here alone. But your gratitude is appreciated.” He smiled.

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #domestic fluff #diluc x you #wlw #diluc x y/n #shenhe x reader #chevreuse #chevreuse x reader #dehya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader

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fuckyeahisawthat · 4 months ago

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The failmarriage hatesex fic is growing a second chapter which is very funny to me because Paul/Irulan was a ship I was actively not interested in. But apparently I just needed to unlock the Secret Good Ship Dynamic in my head that makes it compelling to me personally.

Calm, cool, collected ice queen Irulan, effortlessly manipulating things from behind the scenes? Boring to me apparently. Irulan who is frustrated, furious and scared, desperately trying to find a lever to exercise some control over her situation but extremely aware of the fact that she is trapped on the space cocaine death planet under the control of a man who has recently become the most powerful person in the universe and seems rather inclined to violence? Fucking catnip.

And then combine that with Paul being cold and kind of mean but never physically violent, which leaves the threat implicit, which is often scarier (and Paul is always most interesting when he's scary), and leaning into that ambiguity of never exactly knowing how self-aware he is about how much power he has over her.

And then the final element being that Chani is not there. Which seems counterintuitive because I am Chani's #1 defense lawyer. But the thing that I always found unappealing about Paul/Irulan was the idea of the blonde offworlder princess supplanting the indigenous woman canon love interest both in terms of narrative focus and as Paul's primary or ideal partner. And I could never quite make the threesome dynamic work in my head with the book characters because I could never figure out why Chani would ever like or trust Irulan, especially after the whole, y'know, feeding her birth control without her knowledge or consent FOR YEARS thing (which is horrifying enough on a person to person level, but add in the racial/colonial dimension to it and f u c k i n g y i k e s d u d e.)

But ironically once Chani removes herself from the situation--for completely justified reasons--her place in the narrative becomes irrefutable. Because Paul and Irulan both know that he wouldn't give her a second glance if Chani were still around; that he's only fucking her because she's there; that he is just using her as a stand-in for the person he'd rather be doing this with, and she's an inferior replacement as far as he's concerned. Chewy chewy chewy.

And the cherry on top is Irulan belatedly figuring out that she maybe possibly has a tiny bit of a humiliation kink, and the only person who's ever clocked it is Paul. RIP girl but he is gonna be SO fucking annoying about that.

#dune #fanfic #headcanons #paul atreides #irulan corrino #paul x irulan

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Driven by hardline prosecutors and tough-on-crime governors, the number of executions jumped 64 percent in 2022 and increased again in 2023 to a total of 24, the highest in five years.

Perhaps the most crucial player in the death penalty’s resurrection, though, is the U.S. Supreme Court, whose historic role of maintaining guardrails has given way to removing roadblocks. Under the conservative supermajority put in place by President Donald Trump, the justices are far more likely to propel an execution forward than intercede to stop it, including in cases where guilt is in doubt or where the means of carrying it out could result in a grotesque spectacle of pain and suffering.

...

In 1976, the Supreme Court famously declared that “death is different,” and demanded an extra level of scrutiny because a mistake is irreversible. Historically, in particularly troubling instances involving state misconduct or abysmal defense lawyering, the Court sometimes intervened at the eleventh hour — from 2013 to 2023, it stayed an execution just 11 times and vacated stays of execution 18 times, according to Bloomberg Law.

Since the death of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and her replacement with Amy Coney Barrett in 2020, the Court has stopped an execution only twice and reversed a lower court to permit an execution nine times. In 2023, 26 condemned prisoners asked the Court to hear their cases; 25 were rejected. The message is clear: Prosecutors eager to seek and swiftly impose death sentences can reliably do so without judicial interference.

...

In Bucklew v. Precythe, a majority of the court opined that the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment “does not guarantee a prisoner a painless death — something that, of course, isn’t guaranteed to many people, including most victims of capital crimes.” In the court’s reasoning, the excruciating pain the defendant might suffer during execution paled in comparison with the terror and mayhem he inflicted during his crimes.

In that same opinion, the Court indicated an impatience with pausing executions while it considered whether to hear the underlying claims from appellate attorneys. Justice Neil Gorsuch warned his colleagues to be skeptical when reading eleventh hour death row appeals: “Last minute stays should be the extreme exception, not the norm.”

It has been. Consider the 13 federal prisoners who were sent to the death chamber in the final months of Trump’s presidency. In a series of terse orders, issued without briefing, argument or public airing of the legal issues, the court blessed the rushed, furious pace. Using this opaque process, which legal scholars call the “shadow docket,” the justices erased lower-court injunctions against executions in seven cases and turned away last-minute requests for stays in the other six. During the 16 years in which Barack Obama and George W. Bush occupied the White House, the Court had invoked the shadow docket to rule for the government a total of four times and “never in a death penalty case,” according to Stephen Vladeck, a professor at the University of Texas School of Law. In Trump’s single term in office, the number jumped to 28, including non-capital cases.

More recently, the Court has rejected cases that advocates say are riddled with error or rest on shaky evidence.

...

Death penalty cases are notoriously rife with racism, questions of innocence, mental health of the accused and whether they received competent legal counsel. Sometimes the facts are too dire for courts to ignore, and even some pro-death penalty politicians are unwilling to take actions in flagrant violation of established norms. The total number of executions over the past decade is still a fraction of its peak in the 1990s.

And yet, the death penalty machine continues to crank on. These days, the battles over who lives and who dies are increasingly local — waged courtroom by courtroom because the Supreme Court has largely abdicated its decades long role as the final arbiter.

“It is becoming more and more clear that the Court is reluctant to interfere in state court cases even to enforce its own precedent,” said Robin Maher, the executive director of the Death Penalty Information Center. “They are saying, ‘This is not our problem to deal with.’”

An ‘Execute-Them-At-Any-Cost Mentality’: The Supreme Court’s New, Bloodthirsty Era

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lawofficeofryansshipp · 2 years ago

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Remove Girlfriend From Florida Home | Florida Unlawful Detainer Lawyers

Remove Girlfriend From Florida Home If you are looking to remove a girlfriend or ex-girlfriend from your Florida home, it is important to understand the legal options that may be available to you. One option, may be to file a Florida unlawful detainer, which is governed by Chapter 82 of the Florida Statutes. It is important to note that this is different from a Florida eviction or ejectment, as…

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c0wgurlz · 1 year ago

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Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 2: Operation, Find Caroline a Cowboy

gif by @bodybebangin

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He doesn't even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust.

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Chapter 1

Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a teacher and my free time is fairly limited. We're at a point in the school year now though that is much less stressful, so expect fairly regular updates, at least for the next few chapters.

Comments are so appreciated! I'd love to know what ya'll like and what ya'll think I could improve upon.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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We don’t talk for the rest of the walk, but the silence is comfortable, like it always is between us. Kayce and I have never asked too much of each other, have always read each others’ moods as if they were our own, and that apparently hasn’t changed from the five years we’ve spent apart. It’s glaringly obvious to us both that neither is up for idle chit chat.

And while I’m really not up for small talk, the silence does, unfortunately, give me entirely too much time to overthink. What felt like such a natural decision, what felt like fulfilling my duty this morning, now feels foolhardy, and quite possibly too risky. Now this isn’t to say that I’m doubting my choice. Helping Mr. John, helping Kayce, helping the family and ranch that raised me, that picked up my pieces and glued me back together over and over, is a no brainer. Helping the people and the place I love most in the world feels as natural as breathing. But smoothing over a murder? That’s- No, I’m not doubting my choice, but I’m sure as hell doubting my sanity. When I said the Duttons needed a criminal defense lawyer, not a PR specialist, I wasn’t exaggerating. And if I’m being honest, this job feels more like that of an accessory than a public relations consult.

The front porch of the big house comes into view well before I’m ready. This dinner may be a reunion of sorts, but it’ll undoubtedly be a business meeting as well. Steeling my nerves for such talks doesn’t come quite as naturally to me as it once did. I feel like a knight with rusty armor. Weak at critical points, weak where it matters. More aptly, I feel like a little girl again, staring into the headlights of a train with no way to move and no way to stop it. I’m no coward, please don’t think that of me, but you know that feeling of impending doom? The one that makes your spine tingle and your stomach drop to your knees? Dread is probably the best word. That’s all I can feel as I stand at the bottom step of the Dutton’s porch.

I must hesitate for too long, or stare off into space, or look absolutely fucking terrified, because in a flash Kayce is back down the two steps he’d already taken and by my side. He doesn’t say anything, you’d think we’d taken a vow of silence, but just looks at me imploringly, resembling a curious puppy so much I almost crack a smile. And then Kacye, sweet Kayce, wraps his calloused hand around mine and tucks it against his chest, over his heart, before tipping his head, ushering me up the stairs. Once I’m half way up I get a fond, “Atta girl,” and what woman doesn’t love being praised like an obedient mare. I snort in response and kick out my foot to trip him, but only a little bit, on the last stair. Can’t have hime getting too full of himself.

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Dinner is nice, but rather awkward if I’m totally honest, mainly due to the fact that Beth and Jamie are in attendance. Let’s just say Gator clears the table well before dinner should truly be over. To my surprise, we don’t talk business, but rather I’m questioned, interrogated really, over what I’ve been up to the past five years and why haven’t I called and would it really kill me to send a text every few months. Beth is the one who leads this inquiry. Jamie and I were never particularly close, so he remains silent for the most part, and he leaves in a huff shortly after Beth throws a fork like it’s a trident directly at his forehead. Can’t say I blame him, even I can only handle so much of Beth when she’s at her worst.

My interrogation is blissfully, or so I thought, cut short by Mr. John when he asks, “So, ya’ll have any plans tonight?” He folds his napkin meticulously, trying to look nonchalant but missing the mark by a shameful amount. If I thought that feeling of dread had left me, I was wrong.

I narrow my eyes and prepare to defend myself against an interrogation of a different kind. Before I can grit out a suspicious, “No, why,” however, Beth pipes up. “Actually Daddy, since you asked,” at this she turns to me, “Caroline, how do you feel about heading into town and getting gloriously drunk and then gloriously fucked? You’ve been gone far too long, so you’ve got to be re-initiated, re-tainted if you will.” She looks me up and down, assessing. “You’re far too shiny, like a little cherub.”

Jesus Christ, I think she’s suggesting I fuck a townie. And Mary and Joseph I haven’t even so much as kissed someone since my divorce - ok, well maybe a peck or two here or there, but that’s besides the point. Here I was, so worried about talking business, about skirting around the subject of murder, only to be blindsided by an age old Dutton scheme. Operation: Find Caroline a Cowboy. Well if Beth thinks I’m about to get biblical with some rando she is absolutely, positively looney tunes. Now, how to communicate all of that in a tactful way? Taking a shallow breath, I part my lips and prepare to spout some placating, buzzword bullshit. Something along the lines of, “Well, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually really tired. Maybe later this weekend?” or “How about we just kick back in the bunkhouse tonight, save the salaciousess for this Saturday?” Before I can even utter a word though, Kayce butts in on my behalf.

“Do you maybe think you could save the corruption for later, Beth? I’ve already promised the boys that I’ll bring Caroline around for cards tonight.” While his voice is calm, casual even, Kayce gives himself away the moment he begins to bounce his leg, the tap tap tap of the heel of his boot loud in the otherwise quiet room. He’s uncomfortable, maybe even irritated, which aren’t we all at least a little bit when speaking to Beth, but there’s something else. A boyishness to his demeanor that I haven’t seen since high school. There’s also the fact that we had decidedly made zero plans to visit the bunkhouse tonight. So. Interesting.

I’m certainly not the only one to notice his odd shift in behavior, as Mr. John’s lips curl into a smirk and Beth’s face arranges inself into a pleased, self-satisfied expression. She frequently wears the look of someone who knows enough to destroy literally any given person’s life, but this look is more playful, one of a cat that’s pinned a mouse by its tail. Ignoring Kayce, she turns her attention back to me. “Caroline, sweetheart, don’t even think about screwing any of those cowboys. I know old habits die hard, but trust me when I say not a single one of them is worth a ride.” Now, to be clear, Beth knows, I know, Mr. John knows, and even Kayce knows that Beth has only ever screwed one of said cowboys out in that bunkhouse, still, her dig elicits the desired reaction from Kayce. And furthermore, she makes it clear that she’s not just trying to set me up with any old cowboy. I’m on to her. Operation: Find Caroline a Kayce.

With a cringe of disgust and a flushed face, he exclaims, “Fuck’s sake Beth, I’m not taking her out there to pimp her out.” He’s stopped smoothing the tablecloth, but now he’s exasperatedly running his hand through his still damp hair. Shit, Kayce. You think he’d have learned by now how to not play into Beth’s hand. Some people just have to learn the hard way I suppose.

Beth’s eyebrows lift and the corner of her mouth quirks. “Well you’re not a very good bestfriend then, are you?”

“Fuck you.” Kayce mutters, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantlly.

“Maybe you should be saying that to her.” Beth points at me with her napkin, dropping it onto her plate as she rises from the table. “This has been fun. Possibly the best family dinner we’ve had all year.” Planting a kiss on Mr. John’s cheek she says, “Love you Daddy, have a drink with me later, will you? I think we should talk.” Then, rounding the table to me, she strokes my hair, almost motherly, “Caroline, sweetheart, clear your schedule Saturday. Me and you are going to paint the town red.” Finally, reaching Kayce, she sighs, “Goodnight, dummy. Let me know if you’d like help finding your balls.” And just like a tornado, she’s there wreaking havoc one moment, and gone the next.

The dining room is uncomfortably silent for a beat after she exits, until Mr. John blessedly breaks the awkwardness yet again. “Beth’s antics aside, I don’t think ya’ll should be going out anywhere tonight. We’ve got several important meetings lined up tomorrow morning and I need both of you sharp. Especially you Kayce, tomorrow will require you to tell a very particular version of events and I can’t risk you fucking that up. Alright, Son?”

Looking slightly cowed, Kayce nods his head in agreement. “Alright.”

Having determined this hell of a dinner has gone on long enough, I begin to make moves to excuse Kayce and myself. “Dinner was delicious Mr. John, thank you for having me. And thank you for such fine company.” I may be lying out of my ass, but my momma didn’t raise me to be rude.

Mr. John exhales a dry laugh and rises from the table. It’s moments like this where his and Beth’s resemblance is striking. “No need to thank me, honey. You’re family, you’re welcome at my table anytime.” Pushing in his chair he surveys Kayce and I with calculating eyes. “Why don’t you two head on home, you both look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”

Gee Mr. John, I wonder the hell why?

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Our walk back isn’t nearly as silent as our walk to the house. To say Kayce is pissed would be putting it lightly. “What in the actual fuck was all that? I mean, Beth was no surprise, but what shit is Dad trying to pull?”

“Kayce, your daddy barely said a word.” I’m more focused on the words left unsaid.

“He didn’t have to say anything Carrie, he sat there like a smug bastard and let Beth say it all for him.” Kayce may as well be pitching a fit the way he kicks at the ground, arms hugged tight to his chest like a wronged toddler. Honestly, the image is kind of amusing, so much so that I have to stifle a laugh. I must not do a good enough job, because I can feel the glare that Kayce shoots through the side of my head. “What?”

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, I’m quick to hide my growing grin. “Well first off, I’m gonna overlook the fact you pulled out my forbidden nickname. But second, do you remember that Christmas when we were thirteen? How Beth hung mistletoe from literally every single doorway, and how your daddy actually enforced the kissing rule?” I raise my eyebrows high, daring him to conveniently “forget” an awkward moment from our childhood as he often pretends to do.

The tips of his ears turn pink, but he sighs his agreement. “Yeah I remember, we must’ve kissed two dozen times. At the time I thought dying would’ve been a kinder fate.”

Asshole. I punch him in the arm, hard. “Wow. Thanks a lot. The sentiment is shared.” Rolling my eyes and checking for invisible dirt beneath my nails, I continue. “Anyways, what they’re doing now, Beth and your daddy, is just an enormous escalation of what they did then. I don’t think Mr. John will rest in his grave until I give him a grandbaby - with you.” I look at Kayce pointedly. It’s no secret that Mr. John, and Beth by extension, have been holding out hope that me and Kayce would fall madly in love and have lots of babies. When Kayce married Monica the teasing and hinting stopped, after all Mr. John would never disrespect their marriage in such a way, and when I married Judd it was almost like a fence went up between us, between myself and the Duttons that is, but now that both of our spouses are out of the picture? I’m certainly not surprised the trouble has started back up.

I expect Kayce to splutter and turn a darker shade of red. Despite his gruff exterior he’s always been reserved and easy to embarrass. He surprises me though when he mutters, “Maybe we should just give him what he wants then. Get him and Beth off our backs.”

I shock myself with the cackle that bursts its way out of my body. It bubbles out partly because of the utter glee I get from Kayce having a sense of humor for once and partly from the insanity of such a suggestion. “So you’re telling me, that your solution to getting your daddy and Beth to leave us alone, is to have a baby together? Yeah, because they definitely would have no interest in our love lives after a stunt like that.” I bump his hip with mine. “I can just hear Beth now, ‘I’m thinking a Fall wedding, you look horrible in bright colors and nobody wants to wear a suit in eighty-eight degree weather.’ We’d never hear the end of it.”

Kayce shrugs, shooting me a wry grin. “Hey, if we marry each other at least we’ll know what we’re getting into. No surprises.”

“Yeah, and no sex,” slips past my lips before I can swallow it down. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Good job Caroline, talk about fucking, or not fucking, your best friend some more why don’t you. Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Pink from the roots of my hair to my chest. And what a fatal mistake I’ve made by opening my fat mouth. My whole life I’ve had to be one step ahead of Kayce, embarrassing him before he can embarrass me worse, yet here I am giving him a golden opportunity.

His grin only widens. “I hate to break it to you Carrie, but to make a baby people have to have sex.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, adding insult to injury. “You know when a man loves a woman…”

I elbow him in the ribs before he can continue. He laughs at my embarrassment just as much as he groans from the pain. “Oh shut up.” Now I cross my arms, increasing my stride so that his arm falls from my shoulders.

He doesn’t even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust. If Kayce had always been shy and reserved in his day to day life, where I had been bright and obnoxious in mine, the topic of sex is where we switched places. I think calling myself a prude may be a tad harsh, but I certainly have never been one to broadcast my sexual business. Kayce on the other hand has never shied away from flirting, or kissing, or having sex in nearly every one of Mr. John’s pastures - you don’t get someone pregnant at nineteen by keeping it in your pants after all.

Playing the game I had with Kayce in the bathroom earlier today had felt safe, probably because I was the one in control, but this battle of wills feels altogether different, like someone is poking at an insecurity, at a bruise I didn’t even know I had. It’s confusing at best and humiliating at worst. Throwing his words back at him, I huff, “Now Kayce Dutton, you know this conversation is entirely improper, so I suggest you drop it. And also,” I whirl around on the step I’ve just taken. Thank God we’ve reached the foreman’s house because I don’t know how much longer I can participate in this back and forth before I’m forced to will myself out of existence. “Who says I’d even want to have a baby with you? Good authority or not. I know ya’ll’ve gotten new ranch hands since I’ve last been here, all of whom I haven’t gotten to size up yet. You never know, maybe one of them is babydaddy material.” I poke him firmly in the chest. “Don’t assume I haven’t got options.” Before Kayce can respond I storm up the remaining steps and into the house, kicking my boots off perhaps a bit too aggressively before striding into the kitchen. What I plan to do in the kitchen, I don’t know, but I still don’t know which room I’m staying in and the living room feels too cozy to stew in, so the kitchen it is.

Kayce saddles in much more calmly, but his fierce expression gives his true feelings away. “Are you serious?” He grunts, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed, mad, confused, hurt - for some reason that alludes me, I might have found the rocky timbre of his voice sexy.

“Serious about what?” I avoid his gaze petulantly, pouring myself a glass of water for a lack of anything better to do.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He groans, tipping his head back and rubbing at his eyes. “Are you really picking a fight over whether or not we should get imaginary married, have imaginary sex, and have an imaginary baby? You do hear how crazy that sounds?”

“So now I’m crazy?” My voice is cool, and serious, even though at this point I realize I’ve lost the argument. Even though I’ve realized there never should’ve been an argument in the first place.

Any fight Kayce had left in him drains away. I see the moment that it leaves his body, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing. “Caroline, honey, what’d I do?”

Almost as if there’s an invisible string connecting us, my body relaxes too. I blow out a breath, dump my water down the drain, and come to stand in front of him. No island between us. “You didn’t really do anything, just poked at a sore spot, that’s all.”

Sensing that this may be a conversation best saved for later, Kayce graciously changes the subject. Scratching at the back of his neck with one hand and gesturing towards the bathroom with the other he murmurs, “Well uh, if you still wanna have that spa night we should probably get going, we’ve got a early morning tomorrow and if I’m gonna let you take my spa virginity we’ve gotta do this thing right.” That earns him a hard exhale, the ghost of what could’ve been a laugh. But he must know not to expect much else, that I’m still nursing my bruised ego, because he carries on. “So why don’t I go get that bubble bath started and you can sort through your uh lotions and potions, decide on how best to pretty me up. And then maybe we could talk, about anything you want.” He begins to walk backwards, making his way towards the bathroom. It’s odd to hear the soft pad of his socked feet on the hardwood and not the click of his boots, but also kind of nice, endearing.

“Okay,” I breath, “Yeah, that’d be - that’d be nice.” I move to walk past him, into the hall where I’d left my bags. “I think you’ve got a bit of a sunburn so I’ll see if I’ve got an aloe mask for you. If you plan on putting yourself back on the market you’d better start taking care of your looks.”

I’m very purposefully facing away from him, so I don’t see the melancholy on his face so much as I hear it in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s likely to happen. My days of chasing tail are definitely over.” I don’t reply, not too keen on opening that can of worms further, and so an uncomfortable silence settles over us. It’s only broken when Kayce sighs, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll be in the bathroom whenever you’re ready.”

Still looking down, I pause the mindless shuffling I’d been doing through my bags, “Alright, just give me a few minutes.” Having found the masks I was looking for well before now, I finally rise from out of my crouch, left knee popping in protest. “Like you said, you deserve a proper first spa night,” I turn my body to reveal my profile, pretending to check the label of the plastic tub in my hands, “I’ve gotta make sure I pull out all the stops. You know I don’t half ass anything.” Feeling generous, I finally offer him a small smile, turning to fully face him.

The relief in his eyes catches me off guard. “Don’t I know it.”

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I don’t know what I expected when Kayce said he’d go run a bubble bath. Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t consider that such an activity is typically done alone, certainly not with a friend, and even more certainly not with a totally platonic, albeit sexy, boy bestfriend. When I finally make my way into the bathroom however, I’m greeted by the sight of Kayce settled into the comically large clawfoot tub, chin tucked to his chest so that bubbles cling to his beard, eyes unfocused and contemplative. “Didn’t realize I invited Santa Claus.” I joke, at a loss for anything else to say. Too scared to say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.

At the sound of my voice his head jerks up, the sudden movement sloshing water just shy of the lip of the tub. “Santa Claus?” He furrows his eyebrows. He really does look like a puppy.

“You’ve got bubbles,” I gesture to my chin, miming a full beard.

He chuckles, “Oh, yeah, I guess I just got bored and,” he shrugs, “I’ve gotten used to playing with Tate in the bath. You’re lucky I didn’t break out the bubble mohawk.”

“The bubble mohawk?” I giggle, “I don’t know, I think I’d like to see that actually. Just make sure I’ve got a camera on me when you do break it out, yeah?” Lining my “lotions and potions” up on the counter, I look away, still trying to figure out what exactly is going on here, or what Kayce expects me to do, to say.

He must sense my hesitancy because he volunteers, “I hope I got the water hot enough. I know how you women like to scorch your skin off, but I’m afraid I’m just a bit too delicate.” He’s pushed himself into a full sitting position now. The water pools just under his chest and it takes everything in me to meet his eyes.

“So we are taking a bath together then?” I huff. “Because that’s not weird at all.” Still, I move to pull my blouse up and over my head, clipping my hair up so that it no longer hangs down my back. “And if you’re not actively in pain, then no, you don’t have the water hot enough. But that’s alright, I’ll manage.”

Ignoring my comment about the water, his eyebrows furrow once again in confusion. “Why’s it weird? You’re the one that suggested it.”

“No. I didn’t.” I shoot some side eye at him, because who in their right mind would suggest such a thing. Hopping around to remove my socks before balling them up and tossing them into the hall so that they don’t get wet, I continue, “And it’s weird because usually when grown adults take a bath together it’s only because something else is gonna follow.”

Rolling his eyes, he insists, “Yes. You did. You said you normally take a bubble bath for spa nights, so here we are, taking a bubble bath. And it’s not weird. I’m wearing my underwear, and I assumed you’d wear yours too. It’s no different than going swimming together.” He sounds way too exasperated for a conversation that is this stupid.

Remember how I said Kayce and I have never had trouble reading each other? Yeah I take that back. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I sigh, “That was not a suggestion. That was a statement. But thank you for the clarification. Now before I literally die of embarrassment, would you like the lavender hair mask,” I forcefully lift one colorful jar into the air, and then another, “or the apple?”

Looking as fed up as I feel, Kayce responds gruffly, “The lavender.”

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