#new york arrival 14

[world-of-wales]

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2014

7 DECEMBER 2014 || The Duchess of Cambridge touched down in New York along with Prince William as they kicked off their visit to the city.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Your car spies on you and rats you out to insurance companies

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Mar 13) in SAN FRANCISCO with ROBIN SLOAN, then Toronto, NYC, Anaheim, and more!

Another characteristically brilliant Kashmir Hill story for The New York Times reveals another characteristically terrible fact about modern life: your car secretly records fine-grained telemetry about your driving and sells it to data-brokers, who sell it to insurers, who use it as a pretext to gouge you on premiums:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/11/technology/carmakers-driver-tracking-insurance.html

Almost every car manufacturer does this: Hyundai, Nissan, Ford, Chrysler, etc etc:

https://www.repairerdrivennews.com/2020/09/09/ford-state-farm-ford-metromile-honda-verisk-among-insurer-oem-telematics-connections/

This is true whether you own or lease the car, and it's separate from the "black box" your insurer might have offered to you in exchange for a discount on your premiums. In other words, even if you say no to the insurer's carrot – a surveillance-based discount – they've got a stick in reserve: buying your nonconsensually harvested data on the open market.

I've always hated that saying, "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product," the reason being that it posits decent treatment as a customer reward program, like the little ramekin warm nuts first class passengers get before takeoff. Companies don't treat you well when you pay them. Companies treat you well when they fear the consequences of treating you badly.

Take Apple. The company offers Ios users a one-tap opt-out from commercial surveillance, and more than 96% of users opted out. Presumably, the other 4% were either confused or on Facebook's payroll. Apple – and its army of cultists – insist that this proves that our world's woes can be traced to cheapskate "consumers" who expected to get something for nothing by using advertising-supported products.

But here's the kicker: right after Apple blocked all its rivals from spying on its customers, it began secretly spying on those customers! Apple has a rival surveillance ad network, and even if you opt out of commercial surveillance on your Iphone, Apple still secretly spies on you and uses the data to target you for ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Even if you're paying for the product, you're still the product – provided the company can get away with treating you as the product. Apple can absolutely get away with treating you as the product, because it lacks the historical constraints that prevented Apple – and other companies – from treating you as the product.

As I described in my McLuhan lecture on enshittification, tech firms can be constrained by four forces:

I. Competition

II. Regulation

III. Self-help

IV. Labor

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

When companies have real competitors – when a sector is composed of dozens or hundreds of roughly evenly matched firms – they have to worry that a maltreated customer might move to a rival. 40 years of antitrust neglect means that corporations were able to buy their way to dominance with predatory mergers and pricing, producing today's inbred, Habsburg capitalism. Apple and Google are a mobile duopoly, Google is a search monopoly, etc. It's not just tech! Every sector looks like this:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Eliminating competition doesn't just deprive customers of alternatives, it also empowers corporations. Liberated from "wasteful competition," companies in concentrated industries can extract massive profits. Think of how both Apple and Google have "competitively" arrived at the same 30% app tax on app sales and transactions, a rate that's more than 1,000% higher than the transaction fees extracted by the (bloated, price-gouging) credit-card sector:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/07/curatorial-vig/#app-tax

But cartels' power goes beyond the size of their warchest. The real source of a cartel's power is the ease with which a small number of companies can arrive at – and stick to – a common lobbying position. That's where "regulatory capture" comes in: the mobile duopoly has an easier time of capturing its regulators because two companies have an easy time agreeing on how to spend their app-tax billions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

Apple – and Google, and Facebook, and your car company – can violate your privacy because they aren't constrained regulation, just as Uber can violate its drivers' labor rights and Amazon can violate your consumer rights. The tech cartels have captured their regulators and convinced them that the law doesn't apply if it's being broken via an app:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

In other words, Apple can spy on you because it's allowed to spy on you. America's last consumer privacy law was passed in 1988, and it bans video-store clerks from leaking your VHS rental history. Congress has taken no action on consumer privacy since the Reagan years:

https://www.eff.org/tags/video-privacy-protection-act

But tech has some special enshittification-resistant characteristics. The most important of these is interoperability: the fact that computers are universal digital machines that can run any program. HP can design a printer that rejects third-party ink and charge $10,000/gallon for its own colored water, but someone else can write a program that lets you jailbreak your printer so that it accepts any ink cartridge:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Tech companies that contemplated enshittifying their products always had to watch over their shoulders for a rival that might offer a disenshittification tool and use that as a wedge between the company and its customers. If you make your website's ads 20% more obnoxious in anticipation of a 2% increase in gross margins, you have to consider the possibility that 40% of your users will google "how do I block ads?" Because the revenue from a user who blocks ads doesn't stay at 100% of the current levels – it drops to zero, forever (no user ever googles "how do I stop blocking ads?").

The majority of web users are running an ad-blocker:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Web operators made them an offer ("free website in exchange for unlimited surveillance and unfettered intrusions") and they made a counteroffer ("how about 'nah'?"):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

Here's the thing: reverse-engineering an app – or any other IP-encumbered technology – is a legal minefield. Just decompiling an app exposes you to felony prosecution: a five year sentence and a $500k fine for violating Section 1201 of the DMCA. But it's not just the DMCA – modern products are surrounded with high-tech tripwires that allow companies to invoke IP law to prevent competitors from augmenting, recongifuring or adapting their products. When a business says it has "IP," it means that it has arranged its legal affairs to allow it to invoke the power of the state to control its customers, critics and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

An "app" is just a web-page skinned in enough IP to make it a crime to add an ad-blocker to it. This is what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model" and it's everywhere. When companies don't have to worry about users deploying self-help measures to disenshittify their products, they are freed from the constraint that prevents them indulging the impulse to shift value from their customers to themselves.

Apple owes its existence to interoperability – its ability to clone Microsoft Office's file formats for Pages, Numbers and Keynote, which saved the company in the early 2000s – and ever since, it has devoted its existence to making sure no one ever does to Apple what Apple did to Microsoft:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Regulatory capture cuts both ways: it's not just about powerful corporations being free to flout the law, it's also about their ability to enlist the law to punish competitors that might constrain their plans for exploiting their workers, customers, suppliers or other stakeholders.

The final historical constraint on tech companies was their own workers. Tech has very low union-density, but that's in part because individual tech workers enjoyed so much bargaining power due to their scarcity. This is why their bosses pampered them with whimsical campuses filled with gourmet cafeterias, fancy gyms and free massages: it allowed tech companies to convince tech workers to work like government mules by flattering them that they were partners on a mission to bring the world to its digital future:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

For tech bosses, this gambit worked well, but failed badly. On the one hand, they were able to get otherwise powerful workers to consent to being "extremely hardcore" by invoking Fobazi Ettarh's spirit of "vocational awe":

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

On the other hand, when you motivate your workers by appealing to their sense of mission, the downside is that they feel a sense of mission. That means that when you demand that a tech worker enshittifies something they missed their mother's funeral to deliver, they will experience a profound sense of moral injury and refuse, and that worker's bargaining power means that they can make it stick.

Or at least, it did. In this era of mass tech layoffs, when Google can fire 12,000 workers after a $80b stock buyback that would have paid their wages for the next 27 years, tech workers are learning that the answer to "I won't do this and you can't make me" is "don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out" (AKA "sharpen your blades boys"):

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

With competition, regulation, self-help and labor cleared away, tech firms – and firms that have wrapped their products around the pluripotently malleable core of digital tech, including automotive makers – are no longer constrained from enshittifying their products.

And that's why your car manufacturer has chosen to spy on you and sell your private information to data-brokers and anyone else who wants it. Not because you didn't pay for the product, so you're the product. It's because they can get away with it.

Cars are enshittified. The dozens of chips that auto makers have shoveled into their car design are only incidentally related to delivering a better product. The primary use for those chips is autoenshittification – access to legal strictures ("IP") that allows them to block modifications and repairs that would interfere with the unfettered abuse of their own customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

The fact that it's a felony to reverse-engineer and modify a car's software opens the floodgates to all kinds of shitty scams. Remember when Bay Staters were voting on a ballot measure to impose right-to-repair obligations on automakers in Massachusetts? The only reason they needed to have the law intervene to make right-to-repair viable is that Big Car has figured out that if it encrypts its diagnostic messages, it can felonize third-party diagnosis of a car, because decrypting the messages violates the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/11/drm-cars-will-drive-consumers-crazy

Big Car figured out that VIN locking – DRM for engine components and subassemblies – can felonize the production and the installation of third-party spare parts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

The fact that you can't legally modify your car means that automakers can go back to their pre-2008 ways, when they transformed themselves into unregulated banks that incidentally manufactured the cars they sold subprime loans for. Subprime auto loans – over $1t worth! – absolutely relies on the fact that borrowers' cars can be remotely controlled by lenders. Miss a payment and your car's stereo turns itself on and blares threatening messages at top volume, which you can't turn off. Break the lease agreement that says you won't drive your car over the county line and it will immobilize itself. Try to change any of this software and you'll commit a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Tesla, naturally, has the most advanced anti-features. Long before BMW tried to rent you your seat-heater and Mercedes tried to sell you a monthly subscription to your accelerator pedal, Teslas were demon-haunted nightmare cars. Miss a Tesla payment and the car will immobilize itself and lock you out until the repo man arrives, then it will blare its horn and back itself out of its parking spot. If you "buy" the right to fully charge your car's battery or use the features it came with, you don't own them – they're repossessed when your car changes hands, meaning you get less money on the used market because your car's next owner has to buy these features all over again:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

And all this DRM allows your car maker to install spyware that you're not allowed to remove. They really tipped their hand on this when the R2R ballot measure was steaming towards an 80% victory, with wall-to-wall scare ads that revealed that your car collects so much information about you that allowing third parties to access it could lead to your murder (no, really!):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

That's why your car spies on you. Because it can. Because the company that made it lacks constraint, be it market-based, legal, technological or its own workforce's ethics.

One common critique of my enshittification hypothesis is that this is "kind of sensible and normal" because "there’s something off in the consumer mindset that we’ve come to believe that the internet should provide us with amazing products, which bring us joy and happiness and we spend hours of the day on, and should ask nothing back in return":

https://freakonomics.com/podcast/how-to-have-great-conversations/

What this criticism misses is that this isn't the companies bargaining to shift some value from us to them. Enshittification happens when a company can seize all that value, without having to bargain, exploiting law and technology and market power over buyers and sellers to unilaterally alter the way the products and services we rely on work.

A company that doesn't have to fear competitors, regulators, jailbreaking or workers' refusal to enshittify its products doesn't have to bargain, it can take. It's the first lesson they teach you in the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Your car spying on you isn't down to your belief that your carmaker "should provide you with amazing products, which brings your joy and happiness you spend hours of the day on, and should ask nothing back in return." It's not because you didn't pay for the product, so now you're the product. It's because they can get away with it.

The consequences of this spying go much further than mere insurance premium hikes, too. Car telemetry sits at the top of the funnel that the unbelievably sleazy data broker industry uses to collect and sell our data. These are the same companies that sell the fact that you visited an abortion clinic to marketers, bounty hunters, advertisers, or vengeful family members pretending to be one of those:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/07/safegraph-spies-and-lies/#theres-no-i-in-uterus

Decades of pro-monopoly policy led to widespread regulatory capture. Corporate cartels use the monopoly profits they extract from us to pay for regulatory inaction, allowing them to extract more profits.

But when it comes to privacy, that period of unchecked corporate power might be coming to an end. The lack of privacy regulation is at the root of so many problems that a pro-privacy movement has an unstoppable constituency working in its favor.

At EFF, we call this "privacy first." Whether you're worried about grifters targeting vulnerable people with conspiracy theories, or teens being targeted with media that harms their mental health, or Americans being spied on by foreign governments, or cops using commercial surveillance data to round up protesters, or your car selling your data to insurance companies, passing that long-overdue privacy legislation would turn off the taps for the data powering all these harms:

https://www.eff.org/wp/privacy-first-better-way-address-online-harms

Traditional economics fails because it thinks about markets without thinking about power. Monopolies lead to more than market power: they produce regulatory capture, power over workers, and state capture, which felonizes competition through IP law. The story that our problems stem from the fact that we just don't spend enough money, or buy the wrong products, only makes sense if you willfully ignore the power that corporations exert over our lives. It's nice to think that you can shop your way out of a monopoly, because that's a lot easier than voting your way out of a monopoly, but no matter how many times you vote with your wallet, the cartels that control the market will always win:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/12/market-failure/#car-wars

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[tay-swifts]

TAYLOR SWIFT & TRAVIS KELCE arriving at SNL Afterparty in New York (Oct 14, 2023)

[porto-rosso]

(14 year old tim drake voice) guys i’m so excited my anthrax from bruce just arrived in the mail ^-^ it’s part of a new training exercise to improve my constitution and help me recognise the symptoms of various diseases and poisons :) can’t have me getting sick if i’m gonna fight by batman’s side!! actually did you know that dick grayson (the first robin) has only been sick twice since he was 13. yeah first was when he was living with bruce but the second time he was up in new york and i had to break into his apartment to bring him soup so he wouldn’t starve to death. he kept crying and calling me jason which was honestly really pathetic but happens to the best of us if you know what i’m saying. hey is that a joint you know if you light that you’re going to hell righ

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free ✨Masterpost✨

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Rating: General audiences, except chapters 10 (which can be skipped) and 15 both of which are 18+/minors DNI.

Status: COMPLETE (40k words)

Synopsis

It is late summer 1939, when you arrive in Paris from New York to begin a year of adventure. A deal struck with your parents to see a little of the world before settling down and marrying your ‘childhood sweetheart’ Stanley.

You soon find yourself with a spirited young English housemate Eloise, enjoying all that the cosmopolitan European city has to offer…. Until a few weeks later when war is declared. In this newly uncertain world, Eloise’s mother dispatches her brother to bring her home. Your plan is to board a ship back to America… but circumstances conspire to leave you possibly trapped in France with no way home. Eloise refuses to leave the country without you, even as you secretly grow attached to her beguiling brother, Benedict, who is everything Stanley is not.

There appears to be only one solution to your dilemma to ensure safe passage out of the country as invasion seems imminent…  but it will mean your life is forever changed, even when the world is free again.

Built from a story outlined and requested by @amillcitygirl

Chapter Links

Chapter 1 : Sous le ciel de Paris

Chapter 2: La Valse de Paris

Chapter 3: C'est Un Gars

Chapter 4: Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

Chapter 5: Sans Y Penser

Chapter 6: J'ai Dansé Avec L'Amour

Chapter 7: Mon Ami M'a Donné

Chapter 8: Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin

Chapter 9: Partance

Chapter 10: Hymne à L'amour (18+ rating, minors DNI)

Chapter 11: Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Chapter 12: Je T'ai Dans La Peau

Chapter 13: С'est Lui Que Mon Cœur A Choisi

Chapter 14: Un Coin Tout Bleu

Chapter 15: La Vie En Rose (18+ rating, minors DNI)

Epilogue: Peace Ever After

Titles: Fic title taken from the song ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ By Vera Lynn (1942). Chapter titles will likely all be Edith Piaf songs.

Disclaimer: While I have tried my best to research the time period and the history of events, ultimately, this is a work of fiction and may have some factual inaccuracies. This may be due to the nature of the requested storyline and/or the author's unintended errors. Credits: dividers by @/saradika [x], gif by @/captainbucky-yt [x]

[herejusttosufferalong]

Due to all the activity, let’s recap . 1. We get the wonderful tour of L and N 2. 🦀 just so happens to surprise L at the New York premiere. Not one picture gets taken no one notices that she even there. 3. Tour happens we get all these wonderful moments. No sign of 🦀 in so many many places just our L and N. No pictures no DM articles no nothing. NOT even when round one of season 3 of Bridgerton drops do we get any type of gossip about either L or N. 4. Now London happens final premiere.. Premier was great lots of wonderful moments. Part two drops of the the biggest days of L and N careers this is viewed around the world 5. After party happens now we see L and 🦀. Time for celebrations of so many months of hard labor. Yet here come that paps taking pictures we see a smiling 🦀 and an angry L. Now hands get attempted to get held but L acting like a skeleton. DM sends the paps to L and 🦀 “someone” told them they should be watched. 6. DM post a story talking about alleged girlfriend of L. Full naming her and adds her IG handle. 7. fashion week happens we know L arrived alone.. went with Corey to an event alone. Yet here comes 🦀 out of no where. Gets pictures taken again and dropped to fans this time. 8. L goes to Paris and New York 🦀less all by his lonesome. 9. GQ event happens… we see more 🦀 and friends. 10. N is all of a sudden being linked to J cuz she went out. No proof (no kissing, no hugging) just a couple bars. Photographer from DM doesn’t even know who she is (by DM own words)

11. L goes to wedding and bar no 🦀 in sight. We all looked hard. 12. Hater page pops out of no where drops old news as new. Hater page states same person who gave the info on L HBS gave info on N dating L.. but instead of posting hater page defends N. 13. Russian x posted L set up N with DM. Stating they have receipts yet as soon as they go to post receipts site disappears. 14. L and 🦀 in DM again this time stating they were in Brighton with friends. Yet no proof. Same day as N and J at a bar with a friend gets dropped. Of course they don’t get the video of all the friends just N and J again trying to spin the whole dating crap. 15. DM drops a weird podcast stating she got the hint these people should be watched and she sent the pap to London to photograph L and 🦀. Claims 🦀 would never know how to do that yet mentions her name a thousand times. 16. Weird mass cleanup of likes and comments.

that’s sums up I’m sure I missed stuff seems like an attack to me. Poor L

The 🦀 is 🐟y

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hello! I wanted to ask if you could write an Antonio Dawson imagine where she’s his gf. Based on S3, Ep.14? The reader is Yates’ target. Antonio is worried about her & is more protective over her as everything is unfolding. As the reader is driving to Yates’ location he taunts Antonio through a video call saying he should’ve kept a closer eye on the reader or something along those lines.

At the end the reader shoots & kills him bc he tried to force himself onto her and when she fought back he wanted to kill her. Finally she breaks down when Hank and Antonio arrive but Antonio is there to comfort her & they go home together. Basically he’s there for her & expressing how he didn’t want her to lose her. And how he was thankful he arrived on time. Please & thank you!

Antonio Dawson x Fem!Reader

This was really fun to write, Anon! I took the episode and tailored it some, but I hope you like it nevertheless!

Requested by: Anonymous

Based on: 03x14 of Chicago PD - all ideas that come from it are not mine :)

TW: mentions of gore/violence as seen in the episode, mentions of stalking, attempted sexual assault

You returned home from New York. It was a horrible time, really. You hadn’t been able to recapture Greg Yates, no matter how hard you tried. As you looked out the car window, you felt a gentle hand come to your thigh, comforting you. You looked over to Antonio beside you, realizing how lucky you were to have him. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get him.”

“I know,” you hummed. “He’s heading back to Chicago. I’m sure of it.”

“His mistake. He’s on our land again. That’s how he was caught the first time.”

You took Antonio’s hand in yours, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles as he pulled up outside your apartment building. “I love you. See you later?”

“Let me walk you inside,” Antonio replied, getting out of the car to escort you.

“Come on, Toni, I’m a big girl with a big girl gun.”

Antonio hummed and pulled you close by your waist as you walked. He didn’t respond, but his body language told you everything. He was afraid something may happen to you, especially because Yates had taken a special interest in you in NY. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why, since you were nothing special.

Instead of fighting, you leaned into Antonio’s chest, looking up at him as you got into the elevator. “Toni, you’re scared.”

“Just trying to make sure my girlfriend is still around tomorrow.”

You sighed softly as the elevator got to your floor, taking his hand and pulling him with you and to your apartment. You keyed yourself in, then shut the door, taking off your coat and shoes. “Antonio Dawson, I love you, but you can’t completely shield me from the world. It’s no way to live. If Yates is coming after me, let him. What’s the difference between this and being undercover?”

Antonio sighed deeply, meeting your eyes. His were filled with deep concern, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close. “It’s completely different,” he replied. “Being undercover, they don’t know anything about you, and they’re not targeting you. This bastard, Yates, he’s targeting you. He knows everything about you. I-I just don’t want you working this one. He’s going to get into your head.”

“Sounds like he’s already in yours,” you said with a shrug, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Look, Toni, the whole point is to not let him in. To not change. I’m going to keep working, just the way I always have.”

Antonio gently pressed his forehead to yours. “I can’t lose you,” he muttered, shaking his head. “If I lose you… I won’t know how to keep living.”

“You won’t lose me,” you reassured, gently nuzzling his nose with your own. “Hey, come here…” You gently pulled him to the couch, sitting on his lap and smiling a little, properly leaning in to kiss him. The kiss was deep and passionate, but kept a light tone to it, as you finally pulled away, but not far. You smiled again, whispering against his lips. “I love you, and nothing will ever change that. My love for you is so strong, I’d conquer death just to stay by your side.”

He smiled and pulled you back down for another deep kiss, hands wrapped fully around you, pulling your body as close to his as possible.

--

“(Y/N),” Antonio huffed as he followed you into the locker room, making sure nobody else was there before coming to your side. “You should stay at the district. I don’t like the idea of you being out there, with him, and neither does Voight.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just being overprotective, Antonio. I am still a detective and a damn good one, too. I’ve been in lots of situations where I’ve needed to be careful.”

“He’s completely obsessed with you,” Antonio replied, shaking his head. “He looked up your neighborhood, where you live!”

“Which means he’ll eventually make a mistake. I can’t let him get in my head and neither can you. Now, come on, there’s been three more murders and one attempted.”

You grabbed your gun and badge, pinning them on your jeans, then pulled on your jacket. Shutting your locker, you gave Antonio one last look, telling him you were completely serious. He sighed and simply followed you, riding with you to the scene. You looked down at your phone as an unknown number popped up. You sent it to voicemail.

It was brutal. Three nurses had been killed, and the fourth had been taken to the hospital. It didn’t look good. They’d been beat and tortured, and one even had a hand cut off. You shuddered a little, seeing how all four women had suffered.

“Alright,” Voight said as you all walked outside. “Antonio, Jay, go check on the person who lives upstairs, Nelly. (Y/N) and I will go back to meet Benson and the others.”

You rode back to the station with Voight to meet the SVU, a little upset he took you out of the field, most likely at Antonio’s suggestion. You sighed as you walked in and to your desk, but put on a smile when Olivia Benson and the others on her team walked into the bullpen. You stood to greet them, getting them up to speed on everything they missed in the last few hours.

.

Some time later, Antonio and Jay arrived back, Antonio looking distressed as he went straight to Voight’s office. You looked down as your phone buzzed. Unknown number. You sent it to voicemail again.

After a fairly short conversation with Antonio, Voight called you in. You went inside, shutting the door behind you. “What’s going on?”

“We found this at the crime scene where Nelly was kidnapped,” he said, handing you a note.

Too bad you’re at the station, (Y/N). You’re missing all the fun.

You shuddered, looking at the familiar cursive handwriting. You glanced to Antonio and Voight, then set the note on the desk. “So? He’s taunting us. Playing us. We can’t let him win by reacting to this.”

Antonio sighed and put his hands to his head, obviously stressed. Voight looked over Antonio, then looked to you with a soft shrug. “The safest place for you is here.”

“What?” You retorted, frowning. “You can’t bench me, Sarge. That’s hardly fair.”

“No, no, he’s right,” Antonio huffed. “I’m sick of telling you, over and over, (Y/N). You shouldn’t be on this case. You’re too close to it. He’s obsessed with you.”

“I could say the same about you,” you huffed in reply, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. “I am fine.”

Antonio took a few steps toward you, grabbing your shoulders. “Just please, stay here from now on. Until we catch him. Please.”

“It’s an order,” Voight confirmed. “Sorry, (Y/N), but my number one rule here is that everyone goes home at the end of the night.”

“I thought it was to tell you the truth so you can lie for us?” You rolled your eyes again, shrugging Antonio off you and walking out of the office. You sat at your desk, frustrated by the men benching you, especially when Yates was pining for your attention. They could use you to play him.

.

Everyone went back to their work, trying to find Yates. A few hours went by, and you rubbed your eyes, having been staring at the computer screen nearly the whole time. You let out a deep sigh, but looked up when Kim got the attention of everyone in the bullpen.

“The desk sergeant just called up. A package was just hand-delivered to the front desk, addressed to (Y/N).”

You stood, frowning. Everyone’s gaze shifted to you, then back to Kim, before eventually settling on Sergeant Voight. He looked around and nodded. “Evacuate. Bomb protocol. Someone call in the bomb squad.”

You grabbed your coat, heading outside with the rest of the unit. Antonio stood beside you, a hand on your back. You sighed. “A bomb? Not his style.”

“Maybe, maybe not. He could be trying something new.”

“He probably thinks he has to, since none of you will let me out of the district.”

Antonio sighed again, looking down at you. “It’s to protect you. Why can’t you understand that I just want to protect you?”

“I know you do, and I understand it, but being overbearing like this isn’t protecting me. It hurts me.”

“If it keeps you alive, I’m fine with that,” he said with a small sigh, kissing the top of your head.

You couldn’t help but lean into his shoulder. Because you were among the first out, you were near the back. Your relationship was known, of course, but you liked to keep things private as much as possible. “Jerk,” you mumbled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you sweetly before pulling away as Voight and the head of the bomb squad came over.

“It’s not a bomb, we x-rayed it.”

“Then I’m going to open it,” you replied with a shrug, moving from Antonio’s arms and toward the box, which was now outside. You slit the box open with a knife and unfolded the flaps. Your face contorted as you found a human hand inside, figuring it was off of the body from earlier that morning. You slowly reached in, pulling out a note that the hand was holding. Swallowing hard, you opened it.

Why won’t you answer when I call?

You frowned, showing the note to Antonio and Voight, then pulling out your phone as it vibrated in your pocket. You looked to them. “It’s a video call,” you said softly. You hit record on your phone before answering, holding it up so you could be seen in the camera.

“(Y/N),” Yates said, holding the camera out so that you could see him and Nelly. “So nice to see you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“You remind me of someone, that’s all. I like seeing you around.”

You hummed. “Is this what you wanted? Attention?” You turned the camera to show everyone around you. “Cause we’re all here.”

“It’s nice, but what I really want is you. We should meet up sometime. Just the two of us.”

“Let the girl go, maybe we can talk.”

“Mmn…” He hummed and held the girl tighter. “You’ll have to find her.”

“If you wanted her, why kill the others?”

He huffed. “Oh no, you’re trying to get me to confess. You’ve got people there, witnesses. Not only that, but I could probably guess that you’re recording me, aren’t you?”

“Just tell me where you are. We’ll talk.”

“Come and find me.”

With that, the camera dropped, showing a picture frame, then the call cut out. You frowned, furrowing your brow and looking to Voight and Antonio. Mouse started to swear, stomping his foot. “The trace couldn’t go through in time. We don’t have him.”

You sighed, playing back the video. You zoomed in on the picture at the end, then gasped. “Guys… I know where he is.” You turned the phone around to show them a picture of you and Antonio from when you first began dating. “That’s in my apartment.”

Antonio’s eyes widened, and he looked to Voight, who nodded. “Let’s hit it. Get the rest of the team.”

.

You rode beside Antonio, holding his hand and squeezing it. “It’s gonna be alright,” you said softly, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. Antonio didn’t say anything, just humming in reply. When you pulled up, the whole team gathered and breached your apartment. There was no sign of Yates, but the girl was stowed away in your closet. You helped her up and stayed with her until she got back to the district.

.

The detectives from NY promptly interviewed Nelly, finding that she was Yates’ birth sister. The mother detailed that she put him up for adoption in South Carolina when he was young, because he had been a psychopath since birth. They found Yates to be in a frenzy now, wanting revenge on his mother. It gave you hope, thinking that you may just be able to catch him. They planned to raid his mother’s place.

“(Y/N),” Voight said, moving to your desk. “You’re not coming.”

You huffed. “Sarge, not this again.”

“Stay here with Nelly and her mother. They need you.”

With that, Vought walked away. You frowned as you watched him go before Antonio came into your view. You looked up at him. “Yeah, I know, he just told me I can’t go. I don’t have to hear it from you.”

Antonio hummed, looking you over as he leaned his hands on your desk, then leaned down to give you a deep, tender kiss. You blushed, but reciprocated. You loved him. How could you resist? Knowing he could die at any point, every time he left the bullpen, especially if you weren’t there to have his back. You gently reached up, standing to meet him again, and massaged his shoulders. “Hey…” you said softly. “Just… Don’t let him hurt you, okay? If he’s obsessed with me, it means you’re also in danger.”

Antonio hummed and pulled you close, rubbing your back as he embraced you. “I won’t let him get to you. Promise.”

“That’s not what I asked, Antonio,” you huffed, holding him tighter. “Please.”

“I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to fight for you and protect you, until my last breath.”

Tears came to your eyes. You silently hoped that it wasn’t a trap of some kind, swallowing hard. “Okay,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. “I love you too.”

He kissed your head, then gently cupped your cheeks, wiping your stray tears away. He kissed you again softly before leaving to suit up with the rest of the team. You swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath, wiping your face and sinking back down to your desk.

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” Mouse said, trying to comfort you.

You looked to him, offering a half-hearted smile. “Thanks.” You sniffled and let out another breath, then tried to focus on the paperwork on the case, pouring over it again to ensure nothing was missed.

.

After about a half hour, Nelly came to your desk, frenzied. Someone was calling her phone from her dad’s, but it wasn’t him. It was the man who had kidnapped her. You quickly took the phone and instructed her to go back into the room she’d come from, snapping at Mouse to get him to trace the call. You then lifted the phone to take the video call, seeing Yates with Nelly’s father in-hand.

“So good to see you again,” Yates said with a smile. “Oh, sweet (Y/N), what would I do without you?”

“What did you do for the years before you met me?”

“I dunno…” he hummed.

“I figured out who I remind you of.”

“Yeah?”

You walked into the break room, shutting the door. “Your mother.”

Yates huffed a little, tipping his head. “Yeah? Yeah. I guess you do.” He hummed again and stared intently into the camera, as if he could see into your soul. “So, have you figured out where I am, yet? Or, are you going to let this man just die?”

You looked up as Mouse came to the window with an address. You read it over, connecting the dots. “Yes,” you said into the camera. “Your childhood home.”

“Then come. Come and see me, (Y/N)… Or else, he will die. And come alone. I detest those men who decided to leave you behind. So ungrateful. You deserve the same chance they do. You won’t have to prove yourself to me. I already know you. Everything about you.”

“I’ll come,” you said softly.

“See you soon.” Then, the call ended.

You shuddered, setting the phone on the table before quickly grabbing your coat, running to the parking lot. You grabbed your car, driving to the address and calling Voight to let him know. He told you not to engage, but you knew you couldn’t follow that order. You apologized as you put your foot further onto the gas and sped to Yates’ location.

--

Meanwhile, Antonio pushed the gas pedal as much as he could, knowing you were in danger and might do something stupid. “Dammit, (Y/N),” he mumbled. Suddenly, his phone rang, and he answered the video call, settling his phone in a cradle on his dash so he could pay attention to the road as well as the video.

“Well, well, well,” Yates’s voice rang out. “If it isn’t the infamous Detective Dawson. You should’ve kept a closer eye on her. You know you can’t save her now, right? She’s going to be mine.”

“Like hell she is!”

“But she’s rushing to my side. She’s coming to save me. And then she’ll be mine. She’ll be mine forever. I’ll be the last thing she sees. The last thing she feels. My name will be the last word on her lips. And you? You will be nothing.”

“You really think that? No. She doesn’t love you. None of those girls loved you!”

Yates huffed and rolled his eyes. “Dear Antonio Dawson, doesn’t even know what love is. Love is seeing the life go out in her eyes, slowly fading away, while she grips to you and pleads out your name.”

Antonio hit the gas pedal to the floor, gripping the wheel as tightly as he could. He was so ready to beat Yates to a pulp. “You lay one finger on her, and I’ll kill you myself.”

“It’ll have been worth it in the end, because she’ll join me in the afterlife.” Yates then looked up, smiling. “Oh, she’s here. I’ll see you soon, Antonio.” The call promptly ended.

Antonio punched his steering wheel, growling as he raced across the busy Chicago city to save you.

--

You climbed the steps, your gun gripped between your hands, finger on the trigger. You found Yates in a room upstairs with a large hole in the floor. He was holding Nelly’s father over the hole in a chair, a noose wrapped around his neck. “Hello there,” he said softly. “Oh, (Y/N), please come in.”

“Let him go.”

“I don’t think you want me to do that… You know I’m the only thing that’s holding him up, right?”

You sighed, then pulled your hands up, holstering your gun. “Fine. Then let’s talk. You untie him and let him leave here. Then you and I can talk.”

Yates hummed, looking you over. You disliked the way his eyes roamed your body, swallowing hard. He smiled a little. “Uncomfortable?” He asked. “I’m just undressing you a little. I wonder what you look like under there.”

You bit your inner lip, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “Just let him leave here, and we’ll talk. Just you and me. You know you’re running out of time.”

Yates hummed again, then sighed. “Yes, well, he will have to leave here, won’t he?” And with that, he let the chair go, the man going over. The chair fell to the ground, but the man hung in the hole. You gasped, looking down at him. Yates took the chance to grab you, pushing you against the wall. He let his hands roam your body, including your chest and crotch. You cried out, hands pinned at your sides as he pushed his body weight against you, then eventually pushing you to the ground. “You’re everything I imagined you to be, (Y/N),” he mumbled, pushing his lips to your neck and biting down, making you cry out in pain as his teeth broke your skin. He then sucked and licked at the mark he’d given you, grinding down on you, as he was now on top.

You panicked, whimpering and trying to get to the gun on your hip. He growled and pushed down on you harder. “Stop it. Stop!” He grabbed at your arms to subdue you. “Stop fucking fighting me! Stop it, or I’ll fucking kill you! Just like Nadia! Just like those nurses! Just like all the others!”

In the chaos, finally, you grabbed the gun and pointed it at him, shooting him in the chest. The bullet went straight through his heart.

He fell limp immediately on top of you, his blood pouring onto your body from the wound. You cried out again, tears rolling down your face as you pushed his body weight off you. Then, you stood and pointed the gun at him, your hands shaking, ready to pull the trigger if he moves again, even twitched. You didn’t take your eyes off him.

Antonio and Voight got there very soon after, seeing the scene, and you shaking. Voight slowly pushed your arms down to lower your gun. Antonio checked the body, confirming he was dead.

“I-I-I had to,” you mumbled, sniffling and breathing shakily as sobs came to your throat. “I had to!”

“I know,” Voight said softly, gently taking your gun from you and putting it in his own waistband. “It’s okay, (Y/N).”

Antonio came to you quickly, checking you over. He examined your chest, where the blood had stained your shirt, but finding no injury, he turned to your neck. “Hey, we’ll get an ambo here to check you out.”

“Antonio…” you whimpered, your knees buckling beneath you.

He caught you with ease, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out of the room and downstairs. He set you down outside in the grass, still holding you up to stand. “It’s okay, (Y/N), it’s okay. He hurt you. It was a clean shoot.”

“I-I…” You sobbed softly into his shoulder as he held you tightly. “H-He…”

“Shh,” he shushed you. “You don’t have to explain to me. It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

--

Hours later, after speaking with internal affairs, the paramedics, and anyone else who had questions, you were finally allowed to go home.

Antonio drove you, holding your hand the whole time. Then, he escorted you up to your apartment and inside, helping you into your bedroom. He helped you undress, taking the blood-stained clothes and throwing them in the trash. He knew exactly how you felt about them, without you even having to say. He helped you into the shower, then let you have some time alone as he made some tea for you.

You turned the shower hotter, as hot as it would go, letting it scald your skin. You didn’t know what else to do. You didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t know what to say. The knot in your stomach intensified, making you sick. You heaved up the contents of your stomach and then some, feeling like you had thrown up your entire insides. Your throat burned as you watched it wash down the drain. You fell to your knees as your body betrayed you, sobbing softly. You simultaneously felt everything and nothing. You were so overwhelmed that you were numb. You sobbed yourself sick, heaving now as nothing else came up. You pushed your head against the shower wall, which was cool in comparison to the water. You sobbed and heaved, trembling on the floor of your shower for what felt like days, though only mere minutes before you regained yourself. Your body was still weak, but you managed to turn the shower off. The steam hugged you, even in the absence of the scalding water. You slowly pushed yourself up to get out, then got a towel to dry yourself. You sat on the toilet, swallowing hard as you played out the scenario in your mind, over and over.

What had you been thinking? Antonio was right. You never should’ve left the district. You would’ve been safe there. You trembled as the air grew cooler, leaving bitter kisses on your wet skin. You swallowed hard again, then stood, stumbling into your bedroom and finding some clothes to put on. You were able to find some underpants, but then you found some old sweatpants of Antonio’s that he had left previously. You also found one of his old CPD shirts from the academy. Putting them on, the smell of him comforted you in his physical absence. It helped to soothe your mind, thus soothing your body.

Moving shakily into the living area of your apartment, you looked around for Antonio. He was in the attached kitchen, looking at something on the counter, then turning around with two mugs of tea in his hands. He stopped when he saw you. “Hey…” he said softly. “You look pale…”

You blinked slowly, suddenly exhausted. You moved to the couch, sitting down on one side of it. Antonio moved in beside you, setting the mugs on your coffee table. He put his hands to your face, his fingers surprisingly cold. It felt good to you. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes.

“(Y/N)…” he murmured, gently holding your face. “What you did in there… it was the right thing to do…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you mumbled. “Please… just… hold me…”

“I can do that,” he whispered, nodding and pulling you into his lap, allowing you to sit sidesaddle. He brushed wet strands of hair from your face, grabbing your mug of tea for you. “Here, sip.”

“Toni…” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I just threw up all of my insides…”

“Just sip. You’ll feel better. Please.”

You sighed, but took a small sip of the tea, swallowing it before resting your head on his shoulder. He set the tea down, and rocked you gently, kissing your head and whispering sweet things in your ear for a while before just rocking you in silence.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, breaking the silence.

“(Y/N)…”

“I should’ve listened to you… to Voight…”

Antonio sighed softly. “What’s done is done… I am always here for you… no matter what you choose. I just… I almost lost you today… I never want to lose you. You and my kids, you’re the best things to ever happen to me. I never want to lose any of you. That’s why I have this job. Taking these guys off the streets so that they don’t hurt you or Diego or Eva.”

“I know,” you mumbled, pushing your face into his neck, accidentally reminding yourself of the bite mark on your own. Your hand moved up to feel at the tender skin, wincing as you ran the pads of your fingers across every groove his teeth had left. You sniffled, trying not to cry again.

“Hey, hey,” Antonio gently grabbed your hand, holding it instead so you couldn’t feel the mark. “Shh, you’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, sniffling again as a stray tear escaped your eye.

“I love you too, (Y/N).” He rubbed your back with his free hand, just holding you, all night long.

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 20

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: The arduous task of leaving, and rebuilding.

WC: 1.9k

Over the weeks that those close to you adjust to the news of your little family of four being gone, you're all recovering in the safety of the hospital. Cat's is the slowest going. You and Melissa, while still in quite a bit of pain, are out of the woods. So is Rosie, though she isn't her usual hyper and always moving self. She’s content to sit quietly with you and occasionally snuggle up close to her sister in her hospital bed. 

Cat slowly, painstakingly, gets there- after another surgery and plenty of medication and watchful eyes of professionals. Her little eyes open and stay that way more and for longer periods of time. Once she's stable, you and Melissa know you can't wait any longer. You have to leave. Before word somehow gets out that you are, in fact, still alive. 

Cat's doctors contact a highly respected colleague in New York to coordinate them taking over her care as soon as you get there, essentially. Before you can leave though, you have one more meeting to sit in on. This time, instead of at businesses or the police station, it's in Cat's small hospital room. Melissa is sitting on the edge of your eldest's bed, holding a tiny hand as Cat catches a bit more sleep. You're sitting in a chair at the other side of the bed, holding Rosie in your lap. 

Agent Shaw and Agent Danik greet Rosie enthusiastically when they arrive, happy to see her getting a little bit back to her usual self now that her sister is improving as well. Rosie hugs them both tight, like she used to do Luca and AJ at Sunday dinners. Like she only ever does people she likes. You almost want her to hate them, but your little girl doesn’t understand that these two are a big part of the reason that you’re in the mess you are. If they hadn’t suspected you to be a part of the hit on Bobby, none of this ever would’ve come about. But even you’ll admit, they’ve done a lot for you in the last weeks. They’re almost constantly standing guard with you, and you’ve even gotten to get to know them a bit better and see more into their personal lives. 

The agents take the other chairs in the room, sitting opposite you and Melissa both. Danik hands your wife a folder while Shaw hands you an identical one.

“You each have copies of the documents for the house in New York. We'll be able to mail you the proper ones once we sort out your aliases- along with more documents for you both and the girls. Right now, we've got the plane tickets just with a different last name, to keep anyone trying to from immediately realizing it's you, though I doubt anyone is looking at this point. But once you're in New York you need to have completely different ones.” Danik explains quietly. 

“The girls will be confused by calling them different names…” You mutter, flipping through your folder. 

“They’re already confused enough not being able to go back home,” your wife sighs softly as she runs a hand through her hair. 

“I know,” you reply just as quietly.

“We could…change them to the more common versions.” Melissa suggests. You hear the pain in her tone. When you were pregnant the two of you went through more names than you could count. The meanings and their significance mused to you both, but especially your wife- with Cat carrying on a family name so dear to her. Rosie was the name she'd picked herself and added the middle name her sister also carried down from their family. 

“The nicknames would be the same.” Melissa says when you look at her, a tiny shrug of her shoulders as her fingers gently card through Cat's hair. “It would confuse them less.”

“Baby, are you-”

You don't even get to ask if she's sure. Melissa's head shakes as soon as you start. “We'll know what they mean and where they came from even if no one else will. It doesn't matter if it helps keep them safe.”

Reluctantly, you nod. The safety of your daughters is the only reason you're doing this as you are. Though originally you weren't going to almost die and fake die for it. You guess it is safer this way.

“You'll have to think of ones for yourselves, then. You're more likely to be found than the girls, especially if you kept your first names.”

You sigh. “We have to have them by the time we're in New York, right?” 

“Yes. We'd prefer if you had them already but it's more important that we get you out of here right now. We'll provide an income every month, a set amount to help you get by.”

“I'm sure we'll still need to work.” Melissa says, looking to Agent Dakin.

The agent smiles wryly. “Unfortunately we can't provide you mafia level money.”

“I dunno.” You say, shutting your folder as you glance to your wife. Your shoulders shrug. “Could be fun to do somethin’ totally normal for once without worrying ‘bout the rest. ‘Sides, we both have business experience. We'll figure it out.”

“Neither of you can open a business again,” Danik warns. “Publicity will not do you any favors… even in a big city like Manhattan.”

Melissa sinks. She was hoping she would be able to open another restaurant… she’d make good money in such an affluent city. But that possibility was just thrown out the window.

A few hours later, you, your wife, and your girls are on an airplane in a private area, sorting through everything.

“So… Catherine Ann and Rose Marie,” Melissa sighs as she writes your daughters new legal names. “Last name?”

You shrug. “Should we stick with Italian, or go Irish this time?”

“Probably Italian,” your wife tells you as she scribbles down a few things. “And we need new names.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I think I want to go with Saoirse... freedom,” you say softly as you rock your youngest daughter in your lap gently. “And...” you do a quick search on your phone for different Italian last names.

“Hm?” Melissa hums. 

“I’m looking at common last names, and I like... Fumagalli, or.... Carozza,” you tell Melissa.

Your wife looks at you with those sparkling green eyes of her, and she then rolls them at you. “Do you have any idea what those words mean in Italian?”

You quirk your head and raise a brow. “No? Should I?”

“Fumagalli means smoked poultry,” she deadpans.

“And I love a smoked bird,” you quip. “And it’s a cool last name!”

“And Carozza literally means mozzarella cheese.”

You laugh out loud at that one. “I knew that one sounded familiar... but I do like mozzarella cheese. It’s my favorite kind!”

“Good lord,” your wife grumbles as she writes down both last names on a lined piece of paper as ideas. “You have to be kidding me. How were we a part of the mob, and yet you come up with ridiculous shit like this?”

“You love me,” you smile at her as you set a soft hand on her knee.

“You’re damn lucky.” Melissa grumbles as she writes a few of her own ideas down. 

You peek over her shoulder, seeing the list of last names, your suggestions followed by her own. “What about your name?” You ask. 

“Raphaela.” Your wife answers with no hesitation, making clear she's considered this about as much as you have. She glances back at you with a small, almost shy smile. “It means God has healed.”

“I guess in a roundabout way, he has, huh?” You say. “Barb would've liked that one.” You add in a quiet murmur.

Melissa doesn't miss it, nodding and muttering her own agreement as she turns back to the list of last names. “Vinci.” She says aloud, looking back to you once more. “To conquer.”

You can't fight the grin on your face at the meaning. “I like that.” You admit, quickly stealing a kiss from Melissa. “But you're sure you don't want to be mozzarella? I know it's your favorite too.” You can't help but tease.

Melissa rolls her eyes, gently shoving you back to your own seat space. “I don't want to be cheese or smoked poultry, Thank you.”

When your flight lands you and Melissa have agreed on your new identities. By the time you're in a cab and nearly to your new home, you've failed your additional attempts to persuade her into your more silly last names. Not that you really wanted to. It just gave you both something to focus on fake arguing about to pass the time.

“We'll have to wait for all the documents back before we can enroll the girls back in school.” You say as you walk with Melissa up the steps of your new house. Each of you holding one of your girls in your arms.

“Maybe that's for the best.” Melissa says from next to you. You reach behind the porch light, feeling blindly for the key you were told you'd find hidden for you. You make a mental note it might be a good idea to change the locks at the first opportunity, just to be safe. “At least it will give Cat more time to recover.” Your wife adds as you slip the key into the lock.

“Guess we'll tell them it's a little vacation?” You suggest, glancing over your shoulder.

“I don't know.” Melissa says, making a face. “That will just make them more confused when the vacation doesn't end.”

You sigh but nod, knowing she's right. “We've got time to figure it out, at least.” You say, pushing the front door open. You look back to your wife. “You ready? First step of the rest of our lives.”

“Amore, that step happened when we got on the plane, if not before that.” Melissa says softly. Still, she puts a hand on your cheek, thumb gently rubbing at your skin in affection and nerves just the same. “Hopefully there's beds, at least.” She mutters before kissing you once.

“I don’t think I could sleep on the couch again if I tried,” you grumble. 

You let Melissa step in ahead of you, pulling the door shut behind you and flipping the lock back in place. You trail after your wife, glad to find a sofa in the living room. It's certainly not like your living room back in Philly, or like one actually lived in but it's something.

You don't linger there, keeping a pace behind Melissa down the hallway. She opens one of the doors, finding the bathroom. The next is a bedroom, blissfully with a bed. Again, the room is not fully decorated but the basics are here. It's enough, for now.

You and Melissa carefully nestle your sleeping daughters to the bed. You don't even bother checking the other bedroom. The two of you are already content to squeeze onto the edges of the bed with the girls. It's been a long few days. This house doesn't feel like home, not yet, if it ever will, but with the feel of Melissa’s hand slipping into your own and squeezing, the sound of the girls’ quiet breathing, it's enough of home for you for right now.

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (14/22)

Chapter summary: Vision sends you a demand letter for physical assault; Yelena makes a discovery that could shake the delicate foundations of your newfound 'friendship' with Wanda.

Chapter word count: 5.6k | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Enjoy? :)

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Fifteen

--

Fourteen

The demand letter sits in front of you, openly mocking you with its mere existence. It arrived at the most unanticipated time, suspiciously just a few days after your birthday. It is drafted by one of the most sought-after law firms in New York and co-signed by one Victor Shade, but you doubt that he had any hand in composing it. 

You've read it at least a dozen times now, its words wasting no time diving into the heart of the matter, “On January 4th, 2022 I suffered severe and critical injuries, when the actions of your insured, Ms. Y/N L/N…”

Deep down, you think you’ve been expecting this. The way Vision looked at Wanda the last time you saw them hinted at his lingering feelings. You knew he would do something to ease Wanda's rejection of him, and now he wants a specific amount as compensation: "Total Damages - $831,615.60."

With steady breaths, you carefully fold the letter back into its envelope. 

You wonder if Wanda knows about this. Clearly, whatever she and Vision previously agreed on to delay this matter has now unraveled. And if that’s the case, you want to make sure that Wanda stays out of this, and that her ties to Vision are permanently severed.

As you’re pondering the financial repercussions should you opt to settle, and the added frustration of Natasha not returning any of your calls, your office phone rings, startling you.

"Yes?" you answer when your assistant speaks.

"Sorry to bother you, but Ms. Yelena Romanoff is here to see you," your assistant tells you.

"Send her in, Martin. Thanks." you say and hang up, hurriedly clearing your desk, thoughtlessly placing the letter on top of the pile of documents you need to burn through for today.

A few moments pass, and then Yelena appears at the doorway of your office, wearing a bright smile that matches her vibrant pink lipstick. Coyly, she taps on the door, even though it's already slightly ajar. She's dressed in tight, ripped jeans, paired with knee-high boots and a vibrant red jacket–easily a sight for sore eyes. 

“Hey, baby, you busy?” she asks sort of mischievously. 

You shake your head, grinning “Not for you.”

"Good," she replies, stepping into the room and locking the door behind her. You begin to rise from your seat, but she stops you with a hand. Making her way around your desk, she forcefully pushes you back into your executive chair.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, entranced, and watch as she straddles your thighs.

"Assaulting my girlfriend," she murmurs with a wink, her choice of words momentarily freezing you in place. But as her lips find their way to your neck, any further thoughts dissipate, distracting you from everything else in that electrifying moment. Your hands rest innocently on her hips, massaging her gently as her hips start a slow, gentle rhythm. Tilting your head back, you surrender to her fervor as she traces the length of your throat with her nose, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along the way.

Yelena's jacket slips from her shoulders, cascading to the floor, revealing a thin turtleneck that clings to her form. With haste, you lift it up, exposing her flushed chest that’s heaving with her every breath. But before you can bury your face into her soft mounds, the phone rings again, prompting your girlfriend to get off your lap. 

You let out a frustrated curse under your breath, while Yelena giggled, amused at your striking annoyance.

"What is it, Martin?" you answer as calmly as you could while trying to get the image of Yelena’s breast out of your head. 

"Mr. Stark is calling in the managers for an emergency meeting," Martin informs you.

That completely diverts your attention away from a half-naked Yelena panting on your desk. 

“He’s here?”

"Yes, ma'am," Martin confirms.

"Uh, okay. Give me two minutes," you say, ending the call. 

Having overheard the conversation, Yelena quickly retrieves some tissues and proceeds to gently wipe away the lipstick stains she had left on your neck. “Shit, sorry, babe.”

"Don't worry about it," you stammer, still finding it difficult to concentrate amidst your lingering arousal.

“Yeah,” Yelena smiles knowingly. “Maybe another time, then.”

"Would it be more practical if I put that in my calendar?" you suggest, half-jokingly.

Yelena scrunches her nose at the idea of scheduling sex. “Where's the fun in that?” she retorts.

"You're right. I’m a fussy nerd, I know," you admit with a chuckle.

"A sexy nerd," Yelena corrects, planting a full kiss on your lips. "Now, go get 'em, tiger."

She playfully nudges you towards the door, urging you to make your way to the meeting. As you straighten the creases on your skirt, you quickly reassure her, “I'll be back in a few, okay?” There's a hint of worry in your voice, as if you fear she might leave without your knowledge.

Yelena's eyes meet yours, and she gives you a reassuring smile. “I'll be here,” she promises.

As soon as you leave the room, Yelena retrieves her jacket from the floor and tidies her appearance. In an instant, she transforms into the journalist persona that she hasn’t allowed you to see. She had visited you for another purpose today, and the unexpected opportunity that presented itself left her both surprised and eager to fulfill her intentions. 

Call it an instinct or a persistent gut feeling, but Yelena had been on edge since your birthday. A sense of unease had settled within her, accompanied by an unexplained nagging sensation that there’s something she needed to uncover. It feels as though you’ve been keeping a secret from her for quite some time.

Carefully, she rummages through your drawer, cautious to leave things as they are. And then, out of the corner of her eye, something catches her attention—an envelope. It doesn’t look like it belongs there, on top of documents and folders that have the stamp of Stark Industries in them. No, this envelope bears the distinct markings of an infamous law firm. And clearly, you’ve read whatever is inside, considering the gaping tear on the side of the envelope.

With steady hands, she retrieves the envelope, her movements purposeful and precise. Carefully unfolding the letter, her eyes swiftly scan its contents, absorbing the information with speed and accuracy. She knows that time is of the essence, aware that you could return at any moment, leaving her with limited opportunity to delve into its contents.

Yelena slips the letter back in its envelope and returns it to its original position, making sure to arrange it exactly as she found it. Were you going to tell her about this? Would you have asked for her help or her input as your partner? Or would you just go through the tides without her ever knowing? 

Her intuition had been spot-on; there was indeed something to uncover, and it was undeniably connected to your ex-wife.

She promised you she’d be waiting, but if she wants to help you out of your situation, she better get going.

***

Later that same day, Wanda stands behind the sleek espresso machine, a confident smile on her face as she prepares to demonstrate to Peter a coffee technique known as "pour-over brewing". The café is relatively quiet, with only a few customers lingering over their cups of coffee. Valkyrie left just a while ago after enjoying her usual brew. Before leaving, she had presented Wanda with a thoughtful gift—a bag of exotic coffee beans collected during her recent business trip to Cape Town. Valkyrie had hoped to impress Wanda not only with the beans themselves but also by showcasing herself as a renowned photographer. Eager to try them, Wanda saw this as the perfect opportunity to share one of her favorite brewing techniques with Peter.

As Wanda expertly pours hot water over the meticulously arranged coffee grounds, she explains the process. "Pour-over brewing allows us to extract the full flavor from the coffee grounds. It's all about precision and patience. The water must be heated to the right temperature, and the pouring technique should be slow and steady. It results in a clean and nuanced cup of coffee."

Crouching down to bring himself to eye level with the coffee, Peter’s concentration deepens as he poses a question: "So, how can you tell when it's ready?"

“Generally, it takes around two to three minutes for the water to pass through the coffee bed, depending on the desired strength and flavor profile." 

Wanda leans in, pointing out the subtleties of the process. “As you observe the flow of water, pay attention to the color and consistency. The water should form a gentle, controlled stream, evenly saturating the grounds. If it rushes too quickly or seems to pool in one spot, it may be a sign to adjust your pouring technique.”

“Additionally,” Wanda continues, “Watch for the final stages of the pour-over. As the water nears the end of its journey, the drips become slower and more intermittent. This gradual decrease signifies that the process is almost complete.”

With a smile, Peter watches as the coffee brewing process unfolds before his eyes, precisely as Wanda had described. As the last drops fall into the waiting cups, Wanda proceeds to pour the freshly brewed coffee, dividing it between two cups—one for herself and one for Peter to try.

“For the rest of the week, you’ll be covering all the coffee orders, alright?” Wanda says.

Peter nods eagerly in excitement. 

Just as Wanda is about to bring the cup to her lips, the cheerful chime of the café's entrance sounds. Her eyes widen in surprise as she catches sight of the least expected person to walk through the doors of her coffee shop.

Yelena. 

Confusion immediately clouds Wanda's face, but before she can react, Peter takes the initiative to greet their customer. Yelena responds with a faint smile as she approaches the counter, drawing closer to Wanda until they’re standing face to face, finding themselves in a similar situation just a few weeks prior.

“One cup of coffee, please,” Yelena orders meekly, pulling a twenty-dollar bill off her purse.

“Coming right up,” Peter promptly replies, ready to assist, but Wanda interjects.

“I'll get this, Peter. Why don't you attend to the stock for now?” Wanda suggests.

“Certainly, Ms. Max–Wanda,” Peter says and scurries off to the back room, giving the two some space. 

Wanda's smile brims with gratitude as Peter leaves, granting them a moment of privacy. She then shifts her undivided attention to Yelena, whose growing discomfort doesn't go unnoticed, stoking Wanda’s own anxiety about the purpose of her visit.

Pushing aside her inner reservations, Wanda adopts a professional demeanor, masking her own concerns. From this point onward, it’s all business.

"Specifically, what coffee would you like?" she asks.

Yelena shrugs. "Anything, really."

Wanda chuckles softly, appreciating Yelena's laid-back approach. "Alright, then. Would you prefer it hot or iced?"

Yelena raises an eyebrow. "Who drinks cold coffee?"

Wanda's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Actually, many people do. But I have something special for you. I just brewed some off-the-menu grounds from Cape Town. Would you like to try that?"

“Sure. How much?” 

Waving her hand dismissively, she insists, “On the house. It's a gift from a friend anyway.”

It’s met with a quiet nod from Yelena, who slips the twenty dollar bill into the tip jar as a token of appreciation.

“How about something to eat?” Wanda asks.

“I’m good,” Yelena politely declines, shaking her head.

However, the next words that escape Yelena's mouth are anything but polite, catching Wanda off guard. 

“Are you trying to get her back?” 

Wanda almost drops the cup she was in the midst of placing on a tray for Yelena.

Staring at each other, tension lingering palpably before Yelena clears her throat, breaking the moment. She gestures towards a more secluded area of the café. “Should we, uh, talk over there?”

With a hesitant nod, Wanda acquiesces, her thoughts filled with a flicker of doubt about her choice to open a café rather than a bar. At this very moment, she wishes for nothing more than a shot of whisky before having this ‘talk’.

Yelena doesn’t jump back right in after they are seated. Instead, she takes a sip of her coffee, humming pleasantly at the flavor that touches her taste buds.

“How did you find this place?” Wanda asks. How did you know where to find me?

Yelena, unfazed by the question, responds matter-of-factly, “I'm a journalist. Finding out things isn't too hard for me to do.”

"So, are you trying to get her back?" Yelena repeats as her eyes lock on Wanda’s.

Wanda's response is swift and sincere. “I'm not,” she states firmly. If Yelena had asked her that question before the night she nearly died, she would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. But now, she has nothing but respect for your relationship with Yelena, and doesn’t want to come in between the happiness you’ve found with her.

“But you still love her, don’t you?”

Wanda acknowledges her feelings for you in a slow, deliberate nod, seeing no point in denying it.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to ask me this,” Wanda says. "Y/N loves you. She wouldn't be with you if she didn't."

“I know,” Yelena says with conviction. "But that doesn't mean she’s mine completely."

Wanda's eyes narrow, searching for the true intent behind Yelena's words. Does Yelena genuinely believe that? Could there really be a possibility that you still love her?

Wanda swallows dryly. “I–”

Yelena interrupts, her tone heavy with resignation. "You should have just stayed away," she sighs, her gaze shifting downwards, as if the realization dawned on her just a little too late. She didn’t mean to start talking to Wanda about her insecurities, but Yelena couldn’t help but think about the depth of your attachment to this woman the more she looks at her. 

As she gazes at Wanda, she can't help but wonder where your love for Wanda ends and hers begin.

“I am staying away,” Wanda firmly declares, her posture shifting as she straightens her spine in the chair. All of her encounters with you except for the time you were the one to come to her have been purely coincidental–despite how often they happen.

“Except for matters concerning Sparky,” she adds, correcting herself, “He used to be Y/N's dog as well. It was important for her to be informed about what was happening with him.”

“So, you didn't contact her on her birthday?” Yelena probes, watching Wanda intently for anything that would suggest that she might be lying with her answer.

Wanda, to her credit, doesn't even flinch as she replies, “I did.” It’s immediately clear that Yelena has no idea that you ran into her that night. Wanda understands that it is a matter to be discussed between you and your girlfriend, and she has no intention of revealing something that is not hers to disclose. But it’s another question that will definitely consume her thoughts later.

Yelena tightly clenches her jaw, trying to stay calm. She's always trusted you and never invaded your privacy, never checked your messages. But now, she can't help but wonder if she should have been a bit more vigilant.

“I see,” she drawls, and then finishes the last of her coffee. She doesn’t think she wants to know the details of that any further. “You claim that you’re trying to stay away from Y/N, but obviously, you’re not doing such a great job of it.”

Confused, Wanda furrows her brows and asks, "What do you mean?"

Yelena reaches into her purse and retrieves a thumb drive, sliding it in Wanda's direction.

Wanda looks at the curious little device. “What’s this?”

“Before I tell you, there’s something you should know,” Yelena pauses, making sure that Wanda is thoroughly listening before she shares the news. "Victor Shade has just sent Y/N a demand letter for damages related to physical assault."

"V-Vision?" Wanda’s voice trembles as she speaks.

Yelena nods knowingly. "I assume there's only one Victor Shade in your life–"

"He's not in my life." The words escape Wanda's lips with a forcefulness and intensity that surprises them both. “Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause hangs between them, Yelena patiently waiting for Wanda to gather herself as she observes the rapid whirl of thoughts inside her head. 

After a beat, Yelena continues the slew of disclosures. “I assume his decision to exact revenge on Y/N has something to do with you.” 

Wanda's voice rises in defense. “Are you accusing me of conniving with that–”

“No, not exactly,” Yelena says. “He’s a kid who grew up in a wealthy family, never being denied anything in his life. I think his letter was driven by jealousy. All I’m saying is that this could have been avoided if he had not seen you two together.

“Which brings us to that,” Yelena's gaze shifts to the USB device, which sits untouched near Wanda's hands on the table. It's as if Wanda is actively avoiding it, treating it like a dangerous explosive, which in retrospect, could be deemed as such if its contents were ever revealed. 

"Look, I don't have concrete proof of him stalking you, but I believe this is substantial evidence to shake him off balance."

Wanda fixes Yelena with an expectant gaze, her eyes brimming with anticipation.

Yelena lets out a resigned sigh. "Fine, I'll tell you, since you're so patient.”

Wanda resists reacting to the veiled sarcasm, sensing that what Yelena is about to reveal aligns with her worst fears.

“Vision filmed you both having sex,” Yelena states bluntly, not concerned with softening the crude reality of the situation. “I was able to retrieve just one. I don’t know how many there are. And from the way the recording was cut an hour later when you’re already sleeping means you have no idea he was doing this.”

At Wanda's lack of response and the visible dread in her eyes, Yelena decides to speak up again.

“That's an invasion of privacy. In the state of New Jersey, you can send someone to prison for that for up to five years. Now, it’s up to you to decide what to do with this information.

“I know you care about Y/N, “ Yelena takes a deep breath, as if that fact physically hurts too much for her to accept in light of things. “I know you’ll do everything to help her in this situation.”

“How much is he asking from Y/N?” Wanda mumbles after a long time. 

“More than $800,000 in damages.”

“Jesus,” Wanda gasps at the amount, instinctively bringing her hands up to her face, covering her eyes and burying her features in her palms. Although insurance might cover it, it’s still potentially crippling. Determined to figure this out, she finally picks up the USB from the table and secures it inside her pocket. 

“How did you find out all of this? And how did you even get this video?” Wanda inquires curiously.

“I don’t reveal my sources.” Yelena replies with a smile, leaving Wanda suspicious about the legality of her methods. And equally suspicious of Yelena’s intentions, Wanda asks, “Why are you helping me?”

Yelena's snort breaks through, a genuine expression of glee that surprises Wanda. "I'm not. I'm doing all of this for Y/N."

"Fair enough. But why approach me then? You could have immediately gone to Y/N about this, even shown her the video?” Logically, it would be a strategic move for Yelena. Witnessing the gritty details of Wanda’s cheating would undoubtedly reignite the grievances in your heart. And she’d never have to worry about you going back to Wanda ever again. 

The look that Yelena throws at her is a mix of pity and disgust. “I’d never intentionally hurt Y/N. I came to you because it's your responsibility to fix this mess. It's the least you could do for all the pain you've caused her.”

With those words hanging in the air, Yelena rises from her seat. Casting one final glance at Wanda, she adds, "If you think I’d resort to dirty tricks just to keep Y/N, then you really have no idea how to love her in the first place.”

***

“You have no idea how happy I was when you said you wanted to see me.”

Vision smiles at Wanda as her gaze unwillingly falls upon him, her body trembling with a fury she never realized existed within her. The moment Yelena left her café, Wanda wasted no time in reaching out to Vision, and he promptly answered her call, as if he had been eagerly anticipating that very moment all along. She had chosen a crowded restaurant, in one of the busiest streets in Manhattan near Town Square, seeking safety in the presence of a man she knew deep down couldn't be trusted.

"I didn't want to. I had to," Wanda admits sharply, crossing her arms in front of her. "I thought we had an agreement. That you would stay away from Y/N. And your idea of that is extorting money from her?"

“My circumstances have changed,” Vision argues, sounding almost remorseful. “My dad decided to cut me off, and I can no longer fund my move to Tokyo to pursue my film studies.” 

Vision searches Wanda’s face, hoping to see a reaction, but she remains indifferent to his news of departure, seemingly unaffected by what's happening in his life.

“That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” Wanda says spitefully. And then she sighs in defeat. “If I give you the money, will you–”

"I don't want the money from you," Vision declares, placing his fork down with a loud noise. "She did put me into a coma–”

“Because we fucking drove her to it!” Wanda screams her frustration. The outburst attracts the attention of others in the restaurant, and Wanda looks around apologetically before sinking back into her chair with a sigh.

“The assault happened and I can prove it in court if it ever comes to it.” he says after Wanda has grown quiet.

“You’re not going to prove anything because you’re going to retract that letter and you’re going to leave her alone just like you promised.” Wanda’s words carry a sense of finality, as if there is no other option for Vision.

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore–”

“I can,” Wanda says with a bout of confidence. "Otherwise, you're looking at up to five years in prison for filming me without my consent."

It takes Vision a moment to grasp the meaning behind Wanda's words, and Wanda takes pleasure in observing the color drain from his face. 

“You hacked into my stuff?” he stammers in disbelief.

“You fucking filmed me,” Wanda reiterates, as they both remain fixated on their respective grievances. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you. I’ve never felt so betrayed and disgusted with myself as I do now.”

“How did you get the file?” he asks.

“I don’t reveal my sources,” Wanda says, echoing Yelena’s statement from earlier.

He locks eyes with Wanda, attempting to gauge if she's bluffing, but Wanda remains resolute, maintaining a stoic expression. Then, a small laugh escapes him, shaking his head as if the situation is nothing more than a joke. Wanda fumes as she takes a sip of her water and sets it back down heavy-handedly.

“Here’s the thing,” Vision casually signals for the waiter to refill his wine. “We’re all backed into a corner. If you use that against me, she'll find out, and it will only fuel her hatred towards you. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

Wanda hesitates, her lips parting with uncertainty before closing them in a swift decision. It's a high-stakes gamble, an all-or-nothing move that reveals the vulnerable hand she holds.

You really have no idea how to love her in the first place. She doesn’t exactly know what Yelena meant by that, nevertheless, it makes her doubt her ability to love you properly. She wishes there was a manual that she could read from cover-to-cover until the pages are worn from countless readings. All Wanda can do is prove that she can; even though loving you is the one thing she wants to get right, but has failed multiple times.

“You don’t get to question me about what I’m willing to risk.” she says as she stands up to leave.

Vision calmly wipes his mouth with a table napkin. “Then I guess we’ll just have to find out what Y/N’s next move is.” 

***

Standing on the balcony of your high-rise Manhattan apartment, the view from up here is breathtaking.

The city below pulsates with vibrant energy, resembling a living organism with a heartbeat all its own. Its grandeur is reminiscent of the landscapes that once inspired poets and artists in centuries past. However, the awe-inspiring scenery does little to quell the turmoil raging within you, as you grapple with the decision of whether to pick up the phone and call Wanda or let the silence linger.

You haven't told Yelena about the demand letter that you received from Vision’s law firm yesterday. You want to protect her from getting involved in the convoluted aftermath of Wanda's cheating, which evidently still affects you like aftershocks from an earthquake. You tell yourself that you will let her know, in time, when you figure out what to do. 

With Wanda, there's a strong likelihood that she is already caught in the midst of this storm. You vividly recall the last encounter with Vision, his demeanor exuding a sense of power, as if he held the ability to dismantle your life in a single moment. He subtly implied that it was solely Wanda who prevented him from doing so. 

You wonder if Wanda’s aware that Vision has carried out his plans for revenge; she needed to stop protecting you from him. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and accepting the repercussions of your own choices and actions. 

As you deliberate on what to say to Wanda when you eventually call her, the sound of your building lobby intercom blares through the living room. The voice on the other end informs you, "Ms. Y/L/N? A certain Wanda Maximoff here would like to see you. Shall I allow her in?"

Your heart skips a beat and you press the button for you to speak. "Please, thank you.”

There’s the answer to one of your questions–Wanda probably knows about Vision’s stipulation  regarding the substantial sum of almost a million dollars.

It’s a few minutes of waiting before you hear the doorbell ring.

You open the door to find a visibly fatigued Wanda standing timidly before you. Dark circles under her eyes and a certain gauntness in her cheeks catch your attention, details that you may not have noticed before due to her naturally pronounced cheekbones that give her a sharp, distinct look. 

"I should've called," Wanda says, offering a thin smile as you welcome her inside. "But my feet were already bringing me here before I even thought about it."

"It's no problem at all. Would you like some water or something to drink? I have kombucha, tea... There's also a French Cab breathing in the kitchen, though I know it's quite early."

"I think I'll go for a glass of wine," Wanda replies.

"Coming right up," you say with a warm, good-natured smile, playfully mimicking Wanda's typical line in her own café.

“Is Yelena around?” Wanda asks as she nervously takes in her surroundings.

“She’s working,” you reply as you trudge towards the kitchen.

Left on her own, Wanda perches awkwardly on one end of the couch, her eyes scanning your quaint living room. She can discern the details that reflect your personality, but it doesn’t appease the fact that she has never felt more like an outsider in your life.

"Here," Wanda hears you say from behind her. She turns her head to find you giving the wine glass a gentle swirl, observing as the liquid moves about slowly and clings to the sides—a clear indicator of its high alcohol content. Bringing the glass to your nose, you take a whiff, seemingly enticed by its aroma. Finally, you extend the glass towards Wanda, offering it to her.

Wanda takes a sip–it’s rich and heavy, and the warmth it brings immediately spreads to her chest, instantly soothing her.

You look at her expectantly, choosing to sit on the opposite end. Seeing how worried she looks, you feel that she might finish her glass before she could utter a single word about what she came here for. 

Deciding to help her out, you break the silence first. 

“I take it you know about Vision’s demand letter,” you start, running your fingertip along the rim of your own wine glass. “It’s what you came here for right?”

Wanda nods and then raises the glass to her lips once more, taking another sip until she empties its contents. A small dribble of red liquid escapes from the corner of her mouth, which she promptly wipes with her thumb.

“What are you going to do?” Wanda asks, somber eyes fixed on her lap. Guilt weighs heavily on her, feeling like she brought this on you–which, in hindsight, she probably did. 

As Wanda wrestles with her own feelings of culpability, she hears Calliope's voice echoing in her mind. “You can’t shoulder all the blame, Wanda,” she told her. “It just leaves you lonely and stuck in a situation you have no control of.” 

Control is an illusion, Wanda reminds herself.

“I already set an appointment with my own lawyer. She’s going to go over the figures so we can renegotiate.”

It’s not at all what Wanda is expecting.

“You’re paying him off?” she asks, gaping at you openly for a moment.

"I did send him to the hospital. For quite a while actually," you admit, blinking slowly. "And if he had never woken up, I could very well be in prison right now."

As Wanda struggles with lingering guilt, you find yourself unable to deny the truth either and it weighs heavily on you. Frankly, you see no other way around this. Evading the consequences of letting your anger overwhelm you to the point of potential homicide is no longer a viable option.

You can see Wanda struggling with your decision, and you bitterly think that it’s too late for her to protect you in any way. She’s inflicted her own damage; and the consequence for her is watching the implications of it unravel before her.

“I–I have another way,” Wanda says.

Arching an eyebrow, you’re torn between curiosity and doubt. Wanda is aching for another glass of wine, but she has been consciously limiting her alcohol consumption lately. She doesn't want to repeat the countless occasions where she has either blacked out or come close to it.

“Wanda, stop,” you say, your voice gentle. “I don't want to know. I need closure. I need to get it in the right way, not through shortcuts. Please, don't protect me from this.”

Wanda’s eyes close on their own accord at your mention of the word ‘closure’. Does that closure include her?

“Just hear me out, please,” she implores with urgency. “There’s… there’s something he did that you can bring up with the law as well. And Vision has no proof that you were ever in his apartment, right? So if it comes to it, he really can’t prove that you’re the one who attacked him.”

Wanda looks pale even as she speaks with a kind of preternatural calm that you recognize only comes out when Wanda has come to terms with something. You lean back on the arm rest with an expectant look.

“He recorded us having… having the affair,” The words wrench themselves out of Wanda’s mouth and it takes a while for them to sink into your brain; when they do, you quickly look away, wishing you had instructed the concierge to deny Wanda's request to see you earlier. 

You make a conscious effort to rein in your emotions, particularly the anger that wells up inside you. Wanda's infidelity is something you have learned to cope with long ago. But to discover that it can be substantiated with moving pictures and sounds leaves you grappling for answers.

“Did you know?” you ask steadily–while you can. “Did you know you were being recorded?”

Wanda can’t read the emotion behind your words as she shakes her head no. 

Wanda inches closer to you, until your legs are almost touching. With utmost care, she takes hold of one of your hands and places a flash drive in your palm, closing your fingers around it. Your instinctive response is to maintain a firm grip, clenching your fist tightly around the drive.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she whispers. "If it wasn't for... for what I did, you’d be... we’d be..." Wanda's voice trails off as tears well up in the corners of her eyes, which she hastily wipes away.

Your own eyes moisten at the sight of her, but you manage to hold onto your rage to keep yourself from shattering altogether.

“I'm sorry he's resorting to this,” she continues, her gaze fixed on your clenched fist. “I'm sorry that this exists,” she adds, acknowledging the evidence of her betrayal in your hand. “I’d take it all back if I could.”

You feel the bandaid being ripped off the same wound that refuses to heal. 

How deep does this go and where does it end?

Wanda's breath hitches, her struggle to hold back a sob. You impulsively attempt to create some distance, a physical retreat. Yet, as you lean back, the solid presence of the armrest behind you seems to trap you in a greater sense–of simultaneously wanting Wanda close and wanting her as far away from you as possible.

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife | @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |15|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Last Olympian, War, Fighting, Death, Blood, Stabbing

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You and Chris held on tightly as Clarisse flew through the air, pushing the chariot as fast as it could possibly go. Despite your speed the three of you had never caught up to the other chariots. They were within sight for a few seconds when you first got in the air and then they were gone. You could tell you were getting close to the battle as the sounds of monsters and screams began to fill the air.

“There!” Chris shouted pointing at something off in the distance.

You squinted your eyes to see a line of chariots through the clouds. The chariot took a dive and Clarisse narrowed her eyes, aiming for the line of chariots. The three of you passed chariot after chariot fighting monsters but none of them were the one Silena was in. You finally spotted Silena’s chariot as she attempted to fight a drakon but was quickly defeated.

Clarisse jumped out of the chariot before it could properly land, forcing you and Chris to grab the reigns. When the two of you got the chariot to a full stop you both followed after Clarisse. You arrived just as Clarisse was cradling Silena’s body. You gripped your bow tighter, Silena was a friend, but you didn’t have time to grieve her yet, there was a war going on. You rested a hand on Clarisse’s shoulder, she looked up at you, through her tears you could see fire burning. You gave her a small nod, you didn’t care if what motivated her was revenge, as long as she fought and stayed alive, there would be time to grieve after.

“The Hunters are covering the Lincoln tunnel,” Percy said, looking at you.

You gave him a nod, squeezing Clarisse’s shoulder one last time before running off to meet up with your sisters and help them hold the tunnel. You glanced back one last time only to see Clarisse attacking the drakon head on without any armor. It didn’t take long before the drakon was defeated, quickly turning into dust. You stopped in your tracks as Clarisse was coated in a red glow. You couldn’t help but smile despite the current situation, it was the blessing of Ares. That was the highest honor one could get from Ares, Clarisse did what she always wanted, she proved herself to her father, she made him proud.

You turned back, continuing your run a few blocks down to where you knew the tunnel was. One of the perks to being immortal and traveling all over the country, specifically New York, you knew the city like the back of your hand. You pulled out your bow, quickly notching an arrow and releasing it, letting it sail straight into the monster that had been about to attack Thalia.

Thalia whipped around, her eyes widening as the monster that probably would have killed her turned to dust. She gave a relieved smile when her eyes landed on you. “It’s about time,” she said. She quickly turned around, stabbing an arrow through the eye of another monster.

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. You quickly joined your sisters, fighting side by side with them as monsters continued to pour through the tunnel.

You kicked a monster away and then shot an arrow through it. You did this over and over again. You looked around, seeing your sister all doing the same, shooting monsters they could easily pick off or pushing them away to create enough distance to fire an arrow into them. Thalia was running around, sending bolts of lightning down from the sky into several monsters at a time.

You knew none of you could keep this up for much longer. You all might have been immortal and enhanced in many ways thanks to Artemis, but you could still exhaust yourselves. Your arrows might have been magic, but you didn’t have an endless supply, you knew it was only a matter of time before you and your sisters ran out of arrows, then there truly wouldn’t be any way to guard the tunnel.

“We need a better plan!” You shouted towards Thalia.

Thalia raised her hand then quickly brought it down, sending several strikes of lighting into a large horde of monsters. “I’m open to suggestions!” She shouted back, spinning around and shooting a monster in the back of the head with an arrow.

Your eyes darted all around your surroundings, searching for anything to spark an idea. You needed a better plan, this current one wasn’t working, you just didn’t know a better solution. If you abandoned the tunnel and moved to a better position you would be allowing the monsters to waltz right on through. If you stood your ground and did nothing, then you’d eventually get overwhelmed by monsters and still lose the tunnel and many would die in the process.

Your eyes landed on the tunnel, seeing the shadows of hundreds of monsters moving through the dark, slowly making their way towards you. Based on some of the silhouettes it seemed there were some cyclops, various flying creatures, and something with tentacles. Your eyes widened and a crazy smile broke out onto your face as you came up with one of your more insane plans.

“We need to collapse the tunnel!” You said.

You ducked as a monster swiped at you with its long claws, using that opportunity to bring an arrow up, stabbing it in its gut. You ripped it out, smirking as you gently pushed the monster back before it turned to dust. You furrowed your brow when you realized Thalia hadn’t acknowledged you. You turned around to see Thalia staring at you in the midst of battle, with a look you could only describe as pure shock.

“Got any better ideas?” You asked, pointing to the tunnel.

Thalia sighed, reluctantly nodding in agreement. “Fine!” She sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “How do you want to do this?”

You looked around before your eyes narrowed in on a crack in the stone above the tunnel. “There!” You pointed to the spot. “Can you aim a bolt of lightning at an arrow as it makes contact with the crack?” You were already pulling out one of your explosive arrows from your quiver. The regular explosion was good but adding some lighting would only make more of an impact, which is exactly what you wanted.

“Are you sure you can hit the spot?” Thalia asked. You paused your movements, whipping around to glare at her only to see her chuckling at you.

“Just be ready,” you snapped. You were in the middle of a war; you were not in the mood for someone to be questioning your capabilities.

You ignored Thalia as she continued to lightly chuckle at you. You twirled the arrow in your fingers, narrowing your eyes at the target. You slowly notched your arrow, then raised your bow. For half a second it was like the world went quiet and you weren’t literally in the midst of battle. You glanced out of the side of your eye to see Thalia had her hand partially raised, her eyes fixed on the same position as yours. Then you let your arrow fly.

The arrow sailed across the battlefield, past other arrows flying in the air, past your sisters, and past monsters. It sailed perfectly across the path you set for it and as soon as the tip was about to lodge itself in the crack in the stone a bolt of lightning came down from the sky. The second the lightning hit the explosive device there was a loud explosion.

The force from the explosion caused you, Thalia, and many of the other hunters to fall to the ground. When you pushed yourself back up, your ears were ringing and you were covered in a layer of dust, along with everyone else on the battlefield. You blinked, trying to clear your vision as you tried to see through the cloud of dust. When your vision finally cleared you saw some of your sisters back on their feet already fighting the monsters, a fire blazing all around you.

You couldn’t help but smile, letting out a yell of victory when your eyes landed on the tunnel that now had several tons of stone blocking it. You pushed yourself to your feet, quickly jogging over to Thalia and offering her a hand as she came too as well. You smiled excitedly as she looked past you, her eyes widening at the destruction the two of you had done with one arrow and some lightning.

As soon as Thalia was on her feet the two of you were thrust right back into battle. You took down any monster that dared come your way, seeing Thalia do the same on the other side. After several more minutes of fighting all the monsters were finally done, you looked around, letting out a sigh as you watched your sisters help others who were injured. The battlefield was caked in the dust of all the monsters, the bodies of a few of your fallen sisters scattered about.

You ran over, swinging your arm around the waist of one of your sisters and helping her hop to safety. As you and the other Hunters left the battlefield you made your way to a few shops that some of the other demigods had taken over. Fights were still going on all around you, but you made sure all your sisters got to safety. The Apollo cabin had a little triage place set up where the wounded and some of the dead were being brought. An Apollo kid you didn’t know pointed you to a corner of the room where you could set your sister.

You glanced around, the only way to describe the system was organized chaos. Children of Apollo were running around, healing and patching up demigods. They clearly had a system as the older and more experienced kids worked on the more severe injuries, while the younger kids helped with the smaller injuries like a twisted ankle.

You furrowed your brow when you saw an Apollo kid talking to Thalia and then her taking off rather quickly. You pushed through the crowd of people, grabbing the kid by the shoulder and turning him around. “What did you say to Thalia?”

The kid was stunned at being whipped around so quickly but before he could complain you raised an eyebrow, glaring at him. “Annabeth, she was hurt.”

You released the kid, and he quickly ran off, probably to continue helping take care of the injured. You looked around the makeshift infirmary, there were already so many injured, so many dead, you knew it would only get worse. You hoped Annabeth would be okay, you liked Annabeth but if anything happened to her then Percy and Thalia’s head wouldn’t be in the fight and that’s exactly where they needed to be. As you looked around part of you hoped to see Clarisse but the other part of you didn’t want to see her because if she was there that might mean she was hurt.

“Hey,” someone said from behind you.

You knew who it was just from their voice, but you still whipped around to confirm with your eyes that it was in fact Clarisse behind you. “You’re okay,” you sighed.

Clarisse nodded. “Physically at least,” her grip on her spear tightened. “Had to help bring some of my siblings by,” she nodded to the door where more children of Ares were stumbling in, carrying their siblings over their shoulder or sporting their own injuries.

Before you could say anything more a loud roar interrupted you, cutting through the chaos of everything going on. Everyone in the little infirmary went silent, their eyes darting around as they waited for a monster to burst through. You gripped your bow tighter, not even daring to breath too loudly. A few seconds passed before another roar, followed by various others, echoed throughout the building and down the streets.

“The next wave is coming,” Clarisse said.

You nodded and without another word then you ran back out into the fight. Clarisse’s siblings that weren’t injured, along with any Hunters that weren’t too injured. You made your way back out onto the streets, getting away from the infirmary as best we you could, you didn’t want to lead any monsters there.

Demigods met monsters in the middle of the streets of New York. It was hard to pay attention as swords swung and arrows flew. You were vaguely aware of more bodies dropping, both monsters and demigods. The dirty and grimy streets of New York were now caked in layers of dust and blood from both allies and enemies alike.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Thalia called, releasing an arrow that sailed just barely an inch above your head and into a monster that had been right behind you.

“You were taking too long!” You called back. You spun around, stabbing a monster through the eye with your celestial bronze dagger. You were out of arrows and now only had the dagger to rely on.

You continued to fight off various monsters and demigods who chose the wrong side. Keeping a wide enough distance so their weapons or claws didn’t get you. When you got an opening, you’d quickly close the distance, stabbing them in the gut, the heart, the eye, once in the mouth, and really anywhere that you could. You saw flashes of your surroundings during your fight, seeing everyone fighting just as ferociously as you.

You stabbed your dagger through another monster, ripping your dagger back out when you kicked the monster back. Just as you looked up you saw a demigod approaching Thalia. Your eyes darted from Thalia back to the demigod. Thalia was preoccupied with fighting off another monster, she would never notice in time.

You didn’t hesitate as you ran forward, putting yourself between Thalia and the other demigod. You raised your dagger, blocking his sword just in time. You gritted your teeth as you tried to hold back his sword, a dagger wasn’t meant to fend off a sword though. You let out a choked breath when you felt something sharp pierce your side.

You glanced down seeing the demigods other hand stretched out, pushing a dagger deep into your right side. You looked up, seeing his face twist into a sinister smirk. He ripped out the dagger, not bothering to be gentle. He stepped back, letting his sword fall to his side. You could only stare at his smiling face as your grip loosened until eventually your dagger fell from your grasp.

“No!” You heard a piercing scream. Everything was muffled, the scream had sounded far away but you could swear it sounded like it came from Clarisse. Clarisse only yelled when giving a battle cry though, but this hadn’t sounded like a battle cry.

You felt Thalia whip around. The demigod who stabbed you looked up, smirking as he tightened his grip on his sword as if he intended to attack Thalia again. Before he could even raise his sword though, a spear came flying out of nowhere, impaling him in the chest, going straight through his heart.

His mouth dropped open, but no words came out before his lifeless body fell to the ground, the spear still in his chest. You stumbled back, your knees quickly giving out, you weren’t sure how you didn’t collapse instantly after being stabbed. Instead of hitting the ground though you fell into someone’s arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Thalia’s voice came, managing to sound less muffled than the rest of the world. You looked up, staring into Thalia’s concerned eyes.

“I-I-I-” you tried your best to speak but you couldn’t finish a thought let alone actual words.

Thalia quickly shushed you. “It’s okay, don’t talk.”

You nodded, staring up at Thalia as she looked around, probably looking for help. The next thing you knew Clarisse was at your side. It almost looked like she had tears in her eyes, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. Your vision was starting to blur, clearly your eyes were playing tricks on you. That’s what you thought before everything went black.

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @fictionalwhor3

[fr3akho3]

Stuck in a sticky situation

Kinktober day 1: Tied up

Warnings: Tied up, use of nickname ‘Drac’ ‘Draculara’ ‘Princess’, Boyfriend! Peter Parker, Established relationship, Fem! Upset! Reader, slight angst, fluff at the end, after care, slut calling, praise, SoftDom! Peter Parker, Tied webbed to bed

2.5K words

You were having a hard enough day already, everything was off schedule and you were stressed, you were already 14 minuets late to your boyfriend, Peter Parker's, house, your phone had died, and you were not in the mood for mid-day New York traffic.

After 20 more wonderful minutes of Queens traffic you arrive to his apartment, buzzing him then heading up.

As soon as Peter opens the door to you, you collapse in to his warm arms, a comforting smell of cinnamon that he knew you liked so much filling your nostrils.

"You miss me, Drac?" He laughs out, stroking gently on the back of your head. You only let out a quick nod, not caring to step out of the doorway. "You tired, bad day?" You nod softly, a tear trickling down your cheek, the familiar lump in your throat bobbing back up. "Let's go to my room, Draculara, yeah?"

You both lay on Peter's bed, not saying anything, just holding one another peacefully, softly kissing every once in a while.

"You want anything to eat? I can't cook or bake but I own an air fryer? I'm sure I can make something you'd like in there?" Peter says; gently sitting up and placing your head comfortably on his thighs, stroking your soft hair, feeling fuzzy against his callous finger tips.

"Oh my god, dude, you know what would be so good right now? Fuckin' crinkle cut fries, they’re so good, you should make us some," You say smiling happily. "Please, Peter?" You beg happily, to your boyfriend's dismay he gets up and heads to his kitchen but not without turning around and lifting you out of his bed, he places an arm around you, walking you and himself to the kitchen, he pulls out a chair for you and goes to his freezer, getting the fries out as you pull your phone out.

"Drac? Who you texting?" He says; a tinge of jealousy pangs in his voice along with curiosity, as he goes on his toes to try and see.

"No one, i'm putting music on, Pete." You say, smiling as you hear the jealousy in his voice, knowing you would and could never see another person in the same way you love, or even like, him.

"What song, you thinking, bug?" He smiles at you, his smile lines were your favorite.

"Mm Pretty girls make graves, Love songs on the radio, or Luna?" You ask him looking up from your phone.

"I have no idea what songs those are, so you pick." He says, ogling over you just sitting there.

"Luna's a Smashing Pumpkin songs, and Pretty girls make graves is The Smiths, and then Love songs on the radio's Mojave 3" You state like it was the most common thing on the world.

"I'm sorry, Mojave 3?" He says checking on the fries, making sure they're cooking fine and not burning.

"Yeah, good band, promise."

"Put Love songs on the radio, whatever you pick'll sound good" You put on love songs on the radio, the soft melody filling yours and his eardrums as you stare at each other, content with the love you have for one another.

The fries finish and you sit peacefully with each other, the fries sat and watching from an oval bowl, you've both found your way to Peter's bed, eating and watching Hocus-Pocus on his laptop.

"He's cute," you say not thinking about it about Max from Hocus Pocus

"No he's not, he's probably ugly and old now." Peter says getting defensive which gets you smiling

"Peter, I think your beautiful."

"You do, Drac? You promise?" He says looking away, he's aware it's corny and sappy but he doesn't ignore his feelings.

"Yeah...I do, promise." You say softly, kiss between his forehead and hairline.

Peter kisses your lips softly, devouring your saliva like it was The Body of Christ, worshipping your every movement.

Those few kisses lead to you straddling his lap, he kisses your forehead as you go for his neck and collarbone, leaving small bites and hickeys all over.

"You know...May's working a 10 hour shift...we have a lot of time...only if you wanna..." He stuttered through every word, it wouldn't be your first time together intimately and certainly not last, but Peter was always respectful and careful to avoiding breaking boundaries and such.

"Mm a lot of time to do what?" You said intoxicatingly, the way your voice sounded induced him further, the apples of his cheeks growing red.

"You know...get together..." He said shyly; his pale face turning a light pink

"Oh yeah?" You say teasingly, not wanting to let the moment end.

"Yeah..." He says getting red. "Can we try something...new...together?" He suggests rather sheepishly

"Like what?" Yoh look at him with those beautiful eyes he loves so much

"Well it's October, Halloween season, and I have webs..."

"Whatcha suggesting, Pete?" You say brushing your hands through out parts of his hair

"Wanna tie you up...web you to the bed..." he says hiding his face in the crook of your neck

"What? Can't hear you?" You tease him further.

"Wanna tie you up and let me fuck you," he says louder, still hiding his face in your neck, leaving soft kisses.

"Do it then, pussy." You laugh softly out; teasing the poor boy to his wits end.

"Oh yeah? You gonna be a good girl and let me?"

"Please" You say looking into his eyes

"Want me to tie you up and fuck you? Yeah? Oh yeah?" He whispers; hesitating to go on

"Fuck, yeah, Pete. I need you" you breathe out, staring at him from on top of his lap.

He slides his shirt off, taking your shirt off of you as well, leaving you in only a bra. He lifts you off his lap and puts you sat back on his bed, elbows propped up beneath you. He soon slides down your pants revealing underwear.

"You look perfect, you know that? Gonna take such good care of you" He says grabbing the Vaseline from his bedside table, rubbing it softly on your wrists.

He gets up and grabs his web shooters you whimper as both your hands are webbed to his bed frame

He's careful to pull your bra above your soft and tender boobs carefully. He takes his callus hands spreading one knee to the side then soon the other, he smiles up at you at your slick spreads with your folds.

He massages around your nipples as you whimper, he brushes your cheek with his other hand, inserting his finger inside, stretching you with your slick

"That feel good ,baby, tell me when you want me, okay?"

"O-okay! I want you now, please! I need you, Parker" you beg, vulnerably.

"I'm gonna put it in, alright?" He says softly; pushing your hair out of your face as you nod rapidly.

He's hardened dick slowly teases your entrance, making sure to go slow not wanting to harm you. He's cold hands grabbing onto your hips, his palms cupping your ass and back of your thighs, while his thumb strokes the inside of your thighs, holding them apart.

His tip enters, he pulls in and out a few times trying to feel you out; leaving you whimpering for more.

He's soft to make sure he isn't hurting you; wanting your pleasure as much as his.

He goes all the way in, earning a grown from both of you. His moan was long and relieving.

“Parker, please, start moving.” You beg, your legs crossed around his hips, your hands gripping at the webbing.

“Be patient, Draculara, s’gonna take good care of you, yeah? You gonna be my good girl?” He teases, slowly moving his hips in and out. “Look at You? My pretty girl, all spread for me, all naked, tied up. Fuck I need you”

He pulls all the way out and slams back in, letting out a lewd moan, you whimper as your knees clamp against his waist.

“Fuck! Parker! Please, go harder, please baby?” You squirm and he lightly pinches at your nipple, caressing the other between his hand

“No, keep ‘em open for me, princess, or I swear I’ll stop.” He goes all the way out, leaving his tip in as he slams his hips in and out. “Yeah? You good princess- ah- fuck- you see how hard I am for you? Fuck- y-you see how my cock fucks you?” His hands Go to your waist, moving you up and down on his cock as he goes in and out.

“Fuck! Parker! Please, I’m begging you! Fuck me harder! Please Parker! Fuck- I need you- I want everyone to know I’m yours and I need you so badly, please, baby?” You beg, trying to move your hands; he lets out a chuckle watching you suffer as one finger goes to your clit and the other on your waist.

“I know, Princess, your doing so good for me, yeah? Just keep going for me, your gonna feel so much pleasure, s’yeah?” He goes faster, the lewd sounds of his moans filling the room, as you bite at your cheek, concealing the sounds of your loud moans.

“You feel so good in me- babe- babe! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please! I- I- I- need you, please baby” you beg your knees clenching together, Peter looks down at you as he stops.

“What’d I say Princess? Spread ‘em Draculara. Maybe I’ll eat you out later if your good, okay? C’mon Princess be a good girl for me and spread ‘em legs?” He’s careful to not mess up your hair as he strokes your cheek

“I-I’m sorry, please, Peter, keep going?” You smile at him as he begins rubbing your clit, ghosting on top of it.

“I’m gonna start going, yeah?” He’s quick to put his cock back in, going slow at first, before putting it all in you, he quickly pulls out leaving just the tip before slamming all of him back in, not giving you time to adjust before fucking you faster then ever, while rubbing your clit with his callus fingers.

“You want it? Mm- yeah princess? You’ll have it. All of it, fuck- all of me. Oh- oh- fuck- mm” deep inhales leave his body, you hear his heavy breathing, his hand leaving your waist and going to your stomach, pressing down to see how far he is, making you go crazy

“Fuck, I love all of you in me, you’re so good to be, Parker, wanna see you cum, wanna see you cum in me, please- Fuck! I- I- I can take it, all of you. I promise.” You whimper out, your back arching forward as your squirm and yell out sinful moans.

“Mm- fuck- Drac- your driving me fuckin crazy- I’m so close- I’m so close- oh- oh- oh! Yeah! Fuck! I love you- princess fuck! Oh yeah? You really love me? Yeah? You gonna let me fuck you? Oh princess…oh fuck, oh what did I do to- ah- deserve this pretty pussy! Mm- please!” He goes faster, you can see this thigh muscles flexing , his cock twitching inside you with every movement.

“Oh- oh- oh! Please! F-fuck! Fuck me! Parker, please, I’m so in love with you, I’m so so in love with you. I need you! I need more of you! I need more of you in me!” You beg as you grind for any friction left.

“Drac- f-fuck! Your tiddies s’beautiful. Wanna suck on ‘em, can I? Please, oh- oh! Please baby let me suck on ‘em while I fuck you and hear your pretty m-moans?” He leans down and takes your boob in his mouth, swirling the warmth of his tongue on your erect nipple.

“Parker! Wanna cum with you! Please let me cum with you! P-please, oh! Oh! F-fuck, oh…oh…you’re so good to me, baby!” You whimper out grasping the webs as your hips lift off the bed.

“Princess- oh Drac! O-oh! Fuck- s’you…you slut…you are just so desperate for me, aren’t ya? You love this cock hard and deep in you? Look at you, didn’t even b-bother! F-fuck-to take your bra off fully, what kind of slut- oh- fuck! Can’t even wait to take her bra off!” He slams deeper within you, hitting the spongey spot that makes you feel so good, he goes up from your chest and leaves hickeys on your collar and moans into your mouth.

He slams his hips, bruising his bones at your entrance. He knows he’s close and he’s hoping you are too. He needs you to cum around his hard and veiny cock.

“F-fuck, my beautiful, smart girl, I’m so in- l-love with you babe! Fuck, can I cum in your pretty pussy, Drac? Pretty please, babe?” He begs with his brown doe eyes.

You don’t stop him, your mouth left agape from everything, his hands on your clit, one on your waist, his mouth against your neck. Soon the feeling of him warm, gooey, seamen fills you and he fucks it into you, it all becomes to much, his screams and yours fill the room.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me! Please! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Please, Parker! I love you!” You screams, your out of breathe and sweaty as his pace slows down, he kisses your cheek before slowly pulling out, being careful at his tip.

“S’You did so good for me, yeah? So good my princess. Was I Good for you?” He asks, kissing you and getting up, graving a warm wash cloth and wiping his cum out of you, careful to not hurt your tender cunt.

“Thank you, baby. You did so good, I love you.” He kisses you again. He gets an anti-web fluid and sprays it on your wrist, kissing them as he gets your wrists out.

“Wanna shower then cuddle? I wanna get you cleaned up, Drac” he says, rubbing Vaseline over the places where the webs had left purple and red. “S’My pretty pretty girl.”

“Yeah, shower then cuddle sounds good, thank you baby.” He sure you up and kisses your nipples then you, carrying you bridal to the bathroom, where you two were sure to have more fun.

Authors note: how we feeling about my first kinktober?

Tag-list:

@thedevax @tpaints @parkersmjs @eefeefeefeef12345 @whenisthefall @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @blossoming-cee @d3adp00ls @aliengirl99 @just-levyy @nixxaswrld @mentallysickphysicallythicc @isretroavibe @olivezgalore @jakobsdump @crypticbutterfly5 @practicallylivesonline @did-someone-change-my-name @80pairsofcrocs

Comment to be added (will be posting tomorrows teaser shortly)

[girlactionfigure]

With the kindness of strangers, they were able to escape.

“They were taken in by strangers, even housed in a barn along the route of their escape.”

They were refugees, fleeing for their safety, fleeing for their lives, trying to find a new life.

The war-torn country they were living in had been invaded, and they knew they had to get out.

Fortunately, according to the National Endowment for the Humanities, the couple were able to obtain Brazilian passports.

Others trying to escape to the United States, like Anne Frank and her family never made it that far, according to the History Channel, hindered by “American bias against accepting . . . refugees”, which halted most immigration from Europe.

But, first they had to get out.

“On May 10, 1940, Adolf Hitler sent three million troops through the Low Countries into France, according to the Smithsonian. “Parisians fled by the hundreds of thousands before the Germans captured their city on June 14. Among them a young couple, German Jews who had been living in Paris for just four years. They had waited too long. There wasn’t a car or a bicycle left in the city. The husband bought every spare part he could find and built two bikes from scratch. At 5:30 on the morning of June 12, they rode out of Paris with a monkey hidden in the basket.”

Although the couple had previously owned two marmoset monkeys, they did not have an actual live monkey in their basket.

Writer Sarah Stewart Taylor explains further, after the couple got aboard the train:

Hans Reyersbach and his wife, Margarete Waldstein “tried to remain calm as the official came through the train car packed with refugees fleeing Nazi-occupied France and asked for identity papers. When the official saw the stacks of papers inside Hans’s bag, he became immediately suspicious.

“But when Hans . . . pulled out a manuscript for a children’s book entitled ‘The Adventures of Fifi’ . . . the official smiled and passed them by.

“Nearly a year later, after a harrowing wartime escape and journey to the United States”, the couple were able to publish their book “about a mischievous and curious monkey who was always getting into trouble.”

Immigrants Hans Reyersbach and his wife, Margarete Waldstein, used pen names and changed the monkey’s name. Their pen names were H. A. and Margret Rey and the monkey’s name was changed per their publisher to reflect a more American name. “Curious George” would become “one of the most popular children’s books of the 20th century.”

This is a new story for the Peace Page.

~~~~~

According to Taylor, “The Reys were living in Paris when World War II began on September 1, 1939. As news of the Nazis’ advance through Belgium and Holland reached Paris, the Reys began to accept that, as German Jews, they were in danger and would have to leave their adopted country. They were able to secure updated Brazilian passports and collect what they would need for the trip.”

“The Reys boarded a train for Spain in Orleans, France on June 14, 1940, the day the Nazis marched into Paris. On June 23, they arrived in Lisbon. Three months later, after a stay in Rio de Janeiro to secure visas, the Reys arrived in New York. They would live the rest of their lives in their adopted country.”

“The Reys were taken in by strangers, even housed in a barn along the route of their escape. They arrived in New York with almost no money, with their main luggage gone,” according to Rivka Galchen of The New Yorker.

“Little was publicly known about the Reys’ wartime experiences until a 2005 book, ‘The Journey That Saved Curious George,’ written by Louise Borden and illustrated by Allan Drummond. A journal entry of H. A. Rey’s from 1940 included in that book tells us something of Hans’s temperament: Work was going “very slowly on account of events,” he noted, of the week the Nazis breached the French border. A letter of intent to publish ‘Curious George’ from the English publisher Chatto & Windus specifies plans to publish the book barring any international ‘incident involving force majeur.’ And later, a 1944 New Year’s card written from New York reads, ‘Let us think of the future; that’s where we shall spend the rest of our lives.’”

~~~~~

“So far 75 million copies of the Curious George books have been sold worldwide in over a dozen languages,” according to writer Jeff MacGregor.

“You can find the day-to-day, even hour-by-hour notations of their escape in Hans’ meticulous notebooks, saved at the University of Southern Mississippi, in a collection that bears the couple’s pen names: H. A. and Margret Rey.”

“A series of lectures and programs sponsored by the Rey Center and the New Hampshire Humanities Council has put the Reys and their work in the larger context of American history and children’s literature, focusing on U.S. immigration policy,” according to the National Endowment for the Humanities.

“The Wartime Escape: Margret and H. A. Rey’s Journey from France” has attracted a lot of national attention, says Audrey Eisenhauer, executive director of the Rey Center. “This has opened it up to the world,” says Louise Borden of the exhibit. “It has let people know about these perilous times and made them imagine a world without Curious George.”

~ jsr

"Small acts of kindness can make a big difference in someone's life."

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

[streda]

Buster Keaton

Born Joseph Francis Keaton on October 4, 1895, was an American director and actor who became famous for various comedy scenes that are still repeated in films today. You may recognize him from the nickname "the man with the stone face". He is known as a director, screenwriter and actor in famous silent comedies such as "The General" and "The Navigator".

Keaton was born into a vaudeville family in Piqua, Kansas. His name Joseph didn't come out of nowhere, it was a family tradition from his father's side. The nickname Buster was invented by Harry Houdini (a friend of his parents) when little Buster fell down the stairs and instead of crying or reacting in any way, he got up and moved on (The nickname was also a reference to the fact that he often caused trouble as a child). At the age of three, Keaton began performing with his parents in The Three Keatons. He first appeared on stage in 1899 in Wilmington, Delaware. The act was mainly a comedy sketch. Despite his run-ins with the law, Keaton was a rising and relatively well-paid theater star. He stated that he learned to read and write late and was taught by his mother. When he was 21, his father's alcoholism threatened the reputation of the family actor, 20, so Keaton and his mother Myra went to New York, where Keaton's career quickly moved from vaudeville to film. Keaton served with the American Expeditionary Forces in France in the United States Army's 40th Infantry Division during World War I. His unit remained intact and was not broken up to provide replacements, as had been the case with some other late-arriving divisions. While in uniform, he contracted an ear infection that permanently damaged his hearing. Keaton was such a natural in his first film, "Butcher Boy," that he was hired on the spot. Finally, he asked to borrow one of the cameras to see how it worked. He took the camera back to his hotel room, where he disassembled and reassembled it by morning. He appeared in a total of 14 Arbuckle shorts, running into 1920. They were popular, and contrary to Keaton's later reputation as "The Great Stone Face", he often smiled and even laughed in them. In 1920, The Saphead was released, marking Keaton's first starring role in a feature-length feature film. After Keaton's successful collaboration with Arbuckle, Schenck gave him his own production unit, Buster Keaton Productions. He made a series of 19 two-reel comedies, including One Week (1920), The Playhouse (1921), Cops (1922), and The Electric House (1922).

The more adventurous ideas called for dangerous stunts, performed by Keaton at great physical risk. During the railroad water-tank scene in Sherlock Jr. (gags written by Clyde Bruckman), Keaton broke his neck when a torrent of water fell on him from a water tower, but he did not realize it until years afterwards. A scene from Steamboat Bill, Jr. required Keaton to stand still on a particular spot. Then, the facade of a two-story building toppled forward on top of Keaton. Keaton's character emerged unscathed, due to a single open window. The stunt required precision, because the prop house weighed two tons, and the window only offered a few inches of clearance around Keaton's body. The sequence furnished one of the most memorable images of his career. Aside from Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928), Keaton's most enduring feature-length films include Three Ages (1923), Our Hospitality (1923), The Navigator (1924), Sherlock Jr. (1924), Seven Chances (1925), The Cameraman (1928), and The General (1926). The General, set during the American Civil War, combined physical comedy with Keaton's love of trains, including an epic locomotive chase. Employing picturesque locations, the film's storyline reenacted an actual wartime incident. Though it would come to be regarded as Keaton's greatest achievement, the film received mixed reviews at the time. It was too dramatic for some filmgoers expecting a lightweight comedy, and reviewers questioned Keaton's judgment in making a comedic film about the Civil War, even while noting it had a "few laughs." it was an expensive dud, His distributor, United Artists, insisted on a production manager who monitored expenses and interfered with certain story elements. Keaton endured this treatment for two more feature films, and then exchanged his independent setup for employment at Hollywood's biggest studio, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM). Keaton's loss of independence as a filmmaker coincided with the coming of sound films (although he was interested in making the transition) and mounting personal problems, and his career in the early sound era was hurt as a result.

I guess that's it for Buster's success.

Keaton died of lung cancer on February 1, 1966, aged 70, in Woodland Hills, Los Angeles. Despite being diagnosed with cancer in January 1966, he was never told he was terminally ill. Keaton thought that he was recovering from a severe case of bronchitis. Confined to a hospital during his final days, Keaton was restless and paced the room endlessly, desiring to return home. In a British television documentary about his career, his widow Eleanor told producers from Thames Television that Keaton was up out of bed and moving around, and even played cards with friends who came to visit the day before he died. He was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Hollywood Hills, California.

Keaton was presented with a 1959 Academy Honorary Award at the 32nd Academy Awards, held in April 1960. Keaton has two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame: 6619 Hollywood Boulevard (for motion pictures); and 6225 Hollywood Boulevard (for television).

Three Ages (1923)

Our Hospitality (1923)

Sherlock Jr. (1924)

The Navigator (1924)

Seven Chances (1925)

The Cameraman (1928)

Go West (1925)

Battling Butler (1926)

The General (1926)

College (1927)

Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928)

Spite Marriage (1929)

-¤-

[onthisdayts]

April 14, 2014 - Arriving at her apartment in New York City, New York

[harrysfolklore]

i love what you do with the babysitter series. i can’t wait to see more

ITS NANNY TIMEEEEEE !! i really really hope you like this part bc ooohhh lord what’s coming next. SEND ME FEEDBACK !!!

PREVIOUS PARTS

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated ! | support me

liked by yrrahselyts, pillowpersonpp and 387 others

yourinstagram first day of the nyc residencies and i’m feeling icky :// and yes i’m aware that i’m in my underwear and no bra in this pic but i’ve been throwing up all morning so don’t give me shit for it

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yourbff oi, whatever you say, princess

↳ yourinstagram why are you talking so loudly

pillowpersonpp And yet you still look beautiful 💖

↳ yourinstagram i LOVE you

kidharpoon Are you hungover? Did you convince your old man to go out for drinks ?

↳ yourinstagram not hungover just with a stomach bug 🤧🤧

yrrahselyts Awee poor thing, let me cuddle you x

↳ yourinstagram please do🥺

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 4,937 others

harryupdates Harry out in NYC today !

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harryfan1 BABYYY

harryfan2 he looks like a dilf

harryfan3 NEW PLEASING HOODIE ??? NEW COLLECTION??

harryfan4 husband material

liked by jefezoff, yourinstagram and 41 others

yrrahselyts A sick Nanny on film because she’s excited about her modeling debut. I love you @yourinstagram x

view all 15 comments

jefezoff And you’re back to being a fan account

↳ yrrahselyts I’m an in love man and that makes you jealous

↳ jefezoff I’m literally married..

yourinstagram IM SO NERVOUS 😭😭😭😭

↳ pillowpersonpp Pleasing girl, you did amazing

↳ yourinstagram my biggest hyper 💖

↳ yrrahselyts Excuse me, I’m your biggest hyper, have you seen this account?

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 583,836 others

pleasing Pleasing x Marco Ribeiro has arrived. Explore your creativity with our latest collection, where under Ribeiro’s lead, shades and tones take an expressive turn to act as a call to arms for creativity and experimentation.

YN, photographed by Anthony Pham, for Pleasing.

Find your Pleasing.

view all 9,927 comments

harryfan1 OMFGGG

harryfan2 she’s absolutely stunning wow

harryfan3 she’s getting modeling gigs just because she’s dating harry? i smell a famewhore

↳ harryfan4 come on now, you can’t be calling her an attention seeker when she’s not even public on instagram and besides the leak their relationship has been so private

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harrystyles Pleasing x Marco Ribeiro. YN, 2022. Find your Pleasing.

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harryfan1 OH MY GOOOD

annetwist Gorgeous girl 🥰

↳ harryfan2 anne approves omfg

pillowpersonpp That’s my baby and I’m proud 💖

yourinstagram i love you 🥺

↳ harryfan2 sTOP

harryfan3 i still think she’s a famewhore 🤷‍♀️

liked by yrrahselyts, mitchrowland and 402 others

yourinstagram good luck to my lovie tonight, baby jonesland and i will be cheering from backstage 🥰

view all 92 comments

jefezoff Firing Pham and hiring you

↳ yourinstagram babysitter, girlfriend and photographer?? i don’t know if i’ll manage

yrrahselyts I miss you already

yrrahselyts I love you

↳ yourinstagram get off your phone, you sap

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harrystyles Love On Tour. New York City VI. August, 2022

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harryfan1 BEST SHOW EVER

harryfan2 dilf energy

iheartradio THE VEST IS MY RELIGION 🫡

yourinstagram looking good

↳ harrystyles Thanks, mate x

↳ harryfan4 OMG THEY'RE INTERACTING

↳ harryfan3 attention seeker

liked by yourinstagram, pillowpersonpp and 43 others

yrrahselyts Polaroids of the Pleasing girl x

view all 14 comments

pillowpersonpp Gorgeous gorgeous girl 💖

jefezoff WHIPPED

yourbff Milf

yourinstagram i love my fan account <3

yourinstagram i love you

TEXTS BETWEEN SARAH AND YN

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir r @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi i @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @wobblymug @eviesaurusrex @olivialovesh @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @rafeyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page

Make You Mine - Chapter 14 

Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist 

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will have crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 4816 

Make You Mine - Chapter 14 

Chapter Summary: Daniel & Matteo get married in Greece 

Music Inspiration:

Unchained Melody, Righteous Brothers 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesaugustchallenge , prompt "Summer Wedding"

"What an amazing wedding venue!" Riley gushed as she and Liam leisurely strolled, hand-in hand along the pristine beach with William. "This white sand ... the turquoise water ... it's absolutely breathtaking!"  

Liam smiled tenderly as he admired her elation and innocent amazement of the seaside in front of the hotel. Arriving on the island of Santorini, the weeklong pre wedding festivities began as wedding guests arrived to join the celebration. 

“It truly is," Liam agreed as he also took in the beauty of the scenery." I can definitely see why Daniel and Matteo chose this location. However, I must say that Cordonian bea --" 

Interrupting his father, William tugged his hand and pulled, "Daddy, I wanna play in the water. Pleeaaase?!" 

“Is that so?”

William squealed when Liam at once picked him up and twirled him around, giggling and clapping his hands in delight.

"He's getting so big!" Riley cooed, reaching out to tickle William's belly. "You're such a big boy now, aren't you?" 

William grinned and nodded. "I'm three now, mama!" Grinning and patting his chest proudly. 

"That's right, Will," Liam chuckled, giving him a high-five. "You're growing up so fast!" 

They continued their walk along the beach, taking in the sights and sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. Riley slipped her arm through Liam's and leaned her head against his shoulder. William began to pull away from them to follow a seagull that flew up from the water's edge. 

"William, don't run too far ahead," Riley called after him. 

"I won't mama," William called back, slowing his pace. Damien, who followed close behind, kept an eye on the prince. As they continued their walk along the beach, Riley and Liam enjoyed the feeling of the warm sun on their skin and the gentle breeze blowing through their hair. 

"What a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon," Liam smiled joyfully. "This is what I have always dreamed of -- you by my side, with children underfoot ...enjoying life with my family." 

"I couldn't imagine being anywhere else," Riley said, returning his smile. 

"Nor I, Riley," Liam said, placing his arm around her waist pulling her closer. 

"I'm so happy for Daniel and Matteo," she sighed. "They're perfect for each other." 

"And so are we." 

"We are," Riley murmured, tilting her head as she leaned up and captured his lips. The kiss was slow and deep; savoring the taste of him.  

Liam's tongue brushed against hers, sending a thrill of desire throughout her body. He pulled her even closer, his hand splayed on the small of her back. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as she kissed him harder. 

They were so caught up in each other that they did not even notice when Maxwell, Bertrand, Savannah and Bartie strolled alongside. 

"Hey, lovebirds," Savannah called, breaking them out of their passionate embrace quickly. 

"Sorry," Riley giggled, her cheeks flushing. 

"It's okay, you're just young and in love," Savannah smiled, giving her a knowing wink. "But don't forget, there are little eyes around, too." 

"Yes, save some of that for later, you two," Bertrand chimed in, indignantly.  

"You're one to talk, Bertrand," Maxwell guffawed. "I've seen the way you and Savannah can't keep your hands off of each other." 

"I suppose you have a point," Bertrand conceded, looking pleased with himself. Liam acknowledged, "Duke Beaumont, you are correct. It is good to relax and spend time with the people we care about. It's what we all need." 

"Indeed," Bertrand said, his eyes sparkling. 

"We'll try to keep our hands off each other, just for you," Riley laughed, teasing the elder Beaumont. 

"Good, thank you," Bertrand huffed. 

Maxwell chuckled, "Yeah, I'll make sure Bertrand behaves himself in public, too. For Bartie's sake, of course."

"What are you talking about?" Savannah asked, her brows furrowing. 

Bertrand’s eyebrows shot up in annoyance. "Nothing," Maxwell and Bertrand said in unison. 

Bartie, seeing William up ahead, tugs his mother's hand wanting to join his friend. 

"Bartie, don't go too far," Savannah called as he sped off to join William.  

"Please excuse me, your majesty," Bertrand quickly followed the chase. 

Liam and Riley exchanged an amused look and continued their stroll along the beach, hand in hand. “Hey, Max, how did you convince your brother to come to the beach, anyway?" Riley grinned mischievously. 

“Ha,” I had to bribe him,” Maxwell shook his head, chuckling. “I told him if he would come out here that I would look after Bartie during the wedding. He was reluctant at first, but eventually, he caved.” 

"That's sweet of you, Maxwell," Riley said. 

"Yes, Maxwell, that's noble of you. It is good that you are looking after your nephew. You're a great uncle." 

"Thanks, Liam. I appreciate that." 

"Of course," Liam smiled. "What on Earth--"

Up ahead, as Bertrand pursued his son, the chase ended when he tripped and landed face first, with a splash, into the water. 

"Bert!" Savannah called out, "Bartie, what did I tell you?" 

"Sorry, mommy," Bartie said sheepishly. 

"Bertrand, are you okay?" Maxwell asked, rushing to his brother's side. 

Bertrand grunted, pulling himself up and wiping his face. "I think that's enough for today," he said, looking annoyed. 

Savannah giggled, "It's okay, Bertrand. Accidents happen." 

"Right," he nodded, with a look of disgust at his wet clothing. 

"Let's get out of here before something else happens." Maxwell chimed in, trying, but failing not to laugh. 

"I think that's a good idea," Liam said, suppressing his amusement. 

"Yes, I'm fine," Bertrand grunted as he stood up, soaking wet. 

"Let me help you with that, Bert," Savannah offered, handing him a towel. 

"Thank you, Savannah," Bertrand said, taking the towel. 

Maxwell helped his brother dry off while Bartie looked on, a look of concern on his face. "Father, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you fall into the water." 

"It's alright, Bartie. Accidents happen," Bertrand replied, giving the boy a small smile. 

"Come on, let's get you back to the hotel so you can change into some dry clothes," Savannah said, taking Bartie's hand. 

"Yes, good idea. Let's go," Maxwell followed behind, shaking his head with a smirk. 

As they walked, Bertrand turned his head back to Maxwell. "Did you see what happened? I could have sworn that there was a shark fin in the water. It looked like it was heading straight for Bartie!" 

"A shark? Really?" Maxwell burst out laughing uncontrollably. 

Damien, overhearing their conversation, grinned as he turned with William and walked towards Liam and Riley. 

"That was quite the scene, huh?" Damien quietly commented and snickered. 

"It was something," Liam nodded, as he bit the inside of his cheek, successfully holding his laughter. 

"It was quite entertaining," Riley chuckled. "Bertrand needs to come out here more often, especially with Bartie. He is so sweet." 

"Having his son and Savannah with him at House Beaumont has been a positive influence on him." Liam replied. "Bartie is just curious and adventurous. He's a good kid." 

"He's a little rascal," Damien laughed. 

"Maybe, but he's a cute one," Riley added. 

Damien stopped walking as he noticed Olivia and Drake up ahead at the hotel entrance. 

"I'll be right back," Damien said, making his way towards the entrance. 

Riley watched him leave; her brow furrowed in question. "What's going on?" 

"Well, I think Duchess Olivia has an admirer." 

"Is that so?" Riley asked, her interest piqued. 

"It would appear that way," Liam said, his lips curving into a knowing smile. 

As Damien approached closer, he saw Olivia and Drake locked in an intense discussion. He could not make out what they were saying, but he had a feeling that things were getting heated. 

"We should keep walking," Riley said, smiling coyly at Liam. "Yes, let's get out of here." Liam agreed, taking her hand and leading her further down the beach. 

"This is the perfect place for a honeymoon," Riley mused. "Greece is so romantic." 

"Do you see that temple over there, Riley?" Liam asked, motioning to a magnificent structure that rose up from the shore of the main island. 

"That's the Temple of Apollo," he continued. "It's one of the most famous monuments in Greece." 

"Wow, it's gorgeous," Riley breathed, awestruck. "It looks like something out of a movie." 

"The ancient Greeks were known for their exquisite architecture," Liam explained. "They used materials like marble and limestone to create these stunning monuments." 

"It's incredible to think that something so beautiful has lasted for thousands of years," Riley pondered. "I wish I could have seen the world back then, when these temples were still new." 

"Me too," Liam chuckled. "Although I'm not sure how I would have adjusted to a time without modern technology." 

"True," Riley laughed. "I can barely manage going without my phone for a few hours, let alone a lifetime." 

As they continued to walk along the beach, Liam regaled her with stories about the Greek gods and goddesses, and how their myths had inspired the Greeks to create some of the most iconic art and literature in the world. Riley listened with rapt attention, enthralled by the stories of love, betrayal, and heroism. 

"So, which god do you think would be the best fit for you, Liam?" she asked teasingly. 

"Hmm, that's a tough question," he chuckled. "But I think I would have to say, Hermes, the god of travel and trade." 

"A good choice," Riley nodded. "What about me?" 

"Definitely Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty," he replied without hesitation. 

"Wow, high praise indeed," she blushed. 

"It's no less than you deserve, my love," he murmured, kissing her cheek softly. 

The sun was beginning to set over the sea, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach. The breeze ruffled Riley's hair as she leaned against Liam's chest, her heart filled with joy and contentment. 

"Thank you for coming here with me, Liam," she whispered. "This means so much to me." 

"It is my pleasure, Riley," he murmured, holding her close. "I'll never get tired of seeing the world with you." 

He leaned in and moved a lock of hair behind her ear, and kissed her lips, as she melted into his arms. 

Daniel and Matteo’s wedding day... 

The setting was stunning, with the Aegean Sea providing a breathtaking backdrop. The guests were greeted with glasses of champagne, and Riley and Liam mingled with their friends and Matteo's family.  

 As the sun started to set, Riley noticed that Daniel and Matteo had not arrived yet. She began to wonder if there had been any delays, but as she was about to text them, the guests heard a motorboat approaching the shore.  

 Riley gasped as she saw the two grooms arrive on the boat, looking dashing in their tuxedos. The guests cheered as the two men disembarked and made their way towards the ceremony venue. 

The music changed to a slower, more romantic song as Daniel and Matteo walked down the aisle, arm in arm. 

"Welcome, family and friends, to the wedding of Daniel and Matteo," the officiant began. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of these two wonderful people in marriage. 

“Daniel and Matteo have chosen to write their own vows, which they will now recite to each other." 

Matteo nodded and took Daniel’s hand. 

"Daniel, when I first met you, I knew you were someone special. You are intelligent, kind, and incredibly generous. You have brought so much joy into my life, and I am so grateful that I get to spend the rest of my life with you." 

Matteo paused and took a deep breath, his eyes glistening with tears. "Danny, I promise to love and support you, to be by your side through good times and bad, and to share in your dreams and ambitions. I will love you and cherish you for all the days of my life." 

With tears in his eyes, Daniel takes a deep, shuddered breath. 

 "Matteo, When I first met you, I never imagined that we would end up together. But every moment we have shared since that day has made me realize that you are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are kind, funny, and so very dear to me. Thank you for making me a better person and for loving me unconditionally. I vow to be your partner in all things, to stand by your side through the ups and downs of life and to love you forever and always.” 

After the exchange of rings, the officiant asks, "Matteo, do you take Daniel to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

"I do," Matteo replied, his voice thick with emotion. 

“And Daniel, do you take Matteo as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“Yes, yes, I do.” Daniel smiled through his tears. 

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom!" 

Daniel and Matteo wasted no time embracing and kissing each other passionately. The guests applauded and cheered. 

"Congratulations, Daniel and Matteo!" the officiant announced. 

"I love you, husband," Matteo said, cupping Daniel's face. 

"And I love you, husband," Daniel replied, kissing him again. 

The newlyweds made their way down the aisle, surrounded by their friends and family. As they walked, they could hear the guests chanting "kiss, kiss, kiss!" 

Finally, Daniel and Matteo obliged, stopping to give each other a long, loving kiss. Matteo lifted Daniel's hand in thew air and with the other he lifted a glass. Grinning, he smashed it down and yelled, "Opa!" 

Matteo chuckled. "I can't wait for our honeymoon." 

"Same," Daniel grinned. 

Riley smiled as she watched the two men walk off hand in hand. She turned to Liam, her eyes sparkling with happiness. 

"That was so beautiful," she said, her voice full of emotion. "They are truly in love." 

"They are," Liam agreed, his voice tinged with sadness. 

Riley turned to him; a questioning look in her eyes. "Are you okay, Liam?" 

Liam nodded; his expression somber. "I'm just thinking about the past. How could my life have been different if I had chosen you from the start." 

"But you did choose me," Riley reminded him, her tone gentle. 

"Yes, but at my coronation --," Liam began, his tone regretful. "If I had given you that ring, things would be so different." 

Riley placing her hand on his cheek, “we're together now, and that's all that matters. I'm so glad you came with me here," she said softly. 

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied, his voice low and husky. 

He leaned in and captured her lips, and she happily responded. 

Amidst the cheers and applause, the guests were gathering for the traditional Greek wedding dance. Riley and Liam were swept up in the moment, as Maxwell and Savannah linked arms with them as they joined in the dance. 

The music changed to a slower, more romantic song, and the guests formed a circle around the newlyweds. 

"This is called a Syrtos," the band leader explained. "It's a traditional Greek dance that symbolizes the union of two souls. Daniel and Matteo, if you will please take the center of the circle." 

"Now, everyone, join hands and begin the Kalamatianos," the band leader instructed. 

The guests joined hands and began to dance, circling around the newlyweds. 

"Great! Now, the bride and groom will walk around the inside of the circle, holding hands. Opa!!!" 

Daniel and Matteo danced around the inside of the circle, their arms linked. As they passed their friends and family, they shared smiles and hugs. 

"This is a wonderful tradition," Liam whispered in Riley's ear. 

"I know, it's beautiful," she agreed, smiling. 

The dance came to an end, and the guests broke into applause. 

"Thank you all for joining us on this special day," Matteo called out, his smile beaming. "We are so happy that you could share in our celebration. We hope you have a wonderful time and that you will join us for the reception." The reception was a beautiful blend of traditional and modern, with delicious Greek cuisine and a lively dance floor.  

"Congratulations, Daniel and Matteo," Riley said, giving them both hugs. 

"Thank you, Riley," Matteo replied, smiling. 

"We're so happy for you both," Liam added, shaking Daniel's hand. 

"Thanks, Liam," Daniel said. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a reception to get to!" 

With that, Daniel and Matteo made their way to the wedding feast, hand in hand. The guests followed, ready to continue the celebration. 

The newlyweds were soon swept away by the joy and excitement of their reception, and the party began in earnest. Loud music played and the guests danced and celebrated well into the night. 

Riley and Liam spent the evening talking and laughing with their friends, and when it was time to cut the cake, the couple fed each other a slice, much to the delight of the guests and then snuck off to take some photos. 

William pointed to the wedding cake displayed on a nearby table. "Look, Mama! Big cake." 

"That's right, sweetie. That’s a wedding cake."  

“Mama, you and daddy married, too?" Riley’s eyes snapped up to meet Liam’s gaze as he smiled tenderly, raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe someday," she said, winking at Liam. 

"Can I have cake now, pleeaase?" 

"Of course," Riley smiled. 

"Come on," William said, getting up from his chair, grabbing Liam's hand. 

"Okay," Liam chuckled, as he started to stand up to follow his son. “Oh Liam, no worries. I can take him.” 

As Riley started to rise from her chair, Liam tenderly put his hand on her shoulder, urging her to still be seated. Liam bent down and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek.  

William led his father over to the wedding cake, where they were greeted by an older woman. 

"Ah, King Liam." The woman bowed her head and dropped down to curtsy. "How can I help you, Your Majesty?" 

Liam graciously bowed his head in respect and placed his hands on William's shoulders. “My son would love to try some of the wedding cake, thank you." 

"Of course, Your Majesty. Would you like a small or large piece?" 

"Wait ... is the cake made of baklava?" Astounded by his favorite dessert in the world made into a wedding cake. He was ecstatic. 

Matteo overheard his question and leaned over, a grin on his face. "It is, actually. It’s my favorite." 

"Wow," Liam breathed. "This is amazing." 

"My yia yia [grandmother] made it herself." Matteo said. 

"So, would you like a slice, Your Majesty? She smiled warmly. 

"Please," Liam nodded, his eyes sparkled happily. 

Matteo 's grandmother first cut a slice for William and then cut a generous slice and placed it on a plate for Liam. 

"Here you go." She smiled proudly.

"Thank you," he said, his tone sincere. 

"You're welcome, Your Majesty." 

Liam took a bite of the cake and sighed contentedly. "αυτό είναι απίστευτο" ["This is incredible"].

"Χαίρομαι που σου αρέσει" ["I'm glad you like it"], Matteo smiled. 

"ο Βασιλιάς είναι ένας σοφός άνθρωπος" ["The King is a wise man!"] Matteo's grandmother exclaimed. 

"μιλάς ελληνικά;" ["You speak Greek?"]

"Έκανα μερικά μαθήματα" ["I took a few lessons," Liam admitted.

"Λοιπόν, τότε είναι διπλή τιμή που σας έχω εδώ! [""Well, then I'm doubly honored to have you here."]

"παρακαλώ η τιμή είναι δική μου!" ["Please, the honor is all mine."]

*** 

After the desserts were served, the band began playing a lively tune. Maxwell grabbed Savannah's hand and dragged her to the dance floor. Bertrand contentedly remained seated with Bartie. 

"Come on, Daddy," William said, pulling at Liam's sleeve. 

The woman's eyes went wide as she realized the little boy was his son.

"Θεέ μου ο Μάτι ο βασιλιάς έχει έναν γιο!" ["Oh, my goodness, Matty ... the king has a son?"]

*** 

Later in the evening, Matteo's grandmother approached Liam, as he enjoyed a drink with Drake and Olivia.

"Your Majesty, please give this to your bride. It's a family heirloom, and I want her to have it," the elderly woman said, pressing a small, ornate necklace into Liam's hands. 

"Yia yia, With respect, I can't accept this. It's too much," Liam protested, but the old woman was adamant. 

"Nonsense," she insisted. "It's a gift from me to your bride, for more healthy babies. 

Liam felt his face flush at her words and the thought of having more children with Riley. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you, Yia yia. But I must ask why." 

The old woman smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Because I see the love between you two, and it reminds me of my late husband and me. You are a lucky man, Your Majesty. I hope you cherish each other always." 

Touched by her words, Liam gave her a hug and thanked her again. 

As Liam sat back down, he could feel the intense gazes of his friends look straight through him.

***

Laughing, and out of breath, Riley and Maxwell sat down from dancing at the table. "This was so much fun. I am so thirsty ..."

"Say no more, Ri. I'll be right back with refreshments," Maxwell stood up and saluted, in jest, and went to the bar.

"It's lovely to see you celebrate Daniel and Matteo's wedding." Liam squeezed her hand.

"They are so happy together." 

"They are," Liam said, a slight wistfulness in his tone. 

Riley caught his gaze and held it for a moment, reading the look in his eyes. 

"We're going to get our happy ending too, you know," she lowered her voice, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

"I know," Liam replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"And even if we have to wait a little longer, it'll be worth it," Riley continued, her tone firm and confident. 

"I couldn't agree more," Liam said, his expression softening, making a mental note to send Olivia a 'thank you so much' gift for helping Riley find her spark again.

"Besides," Riley added, a mischievous glint in her eye, "I can think of a few ways to pass the time until then." 

Liam laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're incorrigible," he said, his tone playful. 

"You know you love it," Riley teased, leaning in closer. 

"I do," Liam said, his gaze fixed intently on hers. 

Their faces were only inches apart, and Riley could feel her heart racing. She knew she could pull away, but she couldn't seem to make herself do it. 

Liam leaned in and kissed her soundly, the taste of scotch lingering on his lips. Riley closed her eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment. 

When they finally broke apart, their faces were flushed, and their breathing was ragged. 

"Come on," Riley said, her voice low and husky. "Let's go back to our room." 

"Gladly," Liam replied, his voice matching hers. 

They slipped out of the reception, their hands intertwined. As they walked back to the hotel, they knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other. 

***

Later that night, Liam and Riley were getting ready for bed in their hotel room. Riley had just finished washing her face and was brushing her teeth when she noticed Liam staring at her from across the bedroom. 

"What?" she asked, toothbrush still in her mouth. 

"Nothing," he chuckled. "You're just so beautiful." 

She grinned, her cheeks turning pink. "Charmer," she mumbled. 

Liam walked over to her and gently took the toothbrush from her. "Matteo's grandmother gave me something for you," he said, pulling the necklace from his pocket. 

Riley's eyes widened as she saw the beautiful piece of jewelry. "Liam, it's gorgeous," she breathed. 

"Here, let me put it on you," he said, his voice soft and husky. 

He reached around her neck and fastened the clasp, his fingers brushing against her skin. Riley shivered at his touch, her body responding to his closeness once again.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering. "But I don't understand why--" 

"She told me it was for more healthy babies," he interrupted, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Oh," Riley said, her blush deepening. 

"Well, we should probably get started then," Liam said, his eyes darkening with desire. 

He pulled her close and kissed her, his tongue brushing against hers. Riley melted into his arms, her body pressed against his. 

"Yes, Your Majesty," she murmured, her lips curving into a smile. "We should definitely get started." 

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