#Confidentiality Agreement Lawyer

[follow-up-news]

More than 70 years after doctors at Johns Hopkins Hospital took Henrietta Lacks’ cervical cells without her knowledge, a lawyer for her descendants said they have reached a settlement with a biotechnology company they sued in 2021, accusing its leaders of reaping billions of dollars from a racist medical system. Tissue taken from the Black woman’s tumor before she died of cervical cancer became the first human cells to be successfully cloned. Reproduced infinitely ever since, HeLa cells have become a cornerstone of modern medicine, enabling countless scientific and medical innovations, including the development of the polio vaccine, genetic mapping and even Covid-19 vaccines. Despite that incalculable impact, the Lacks family had never been compensated. Doctors harvested Lacks’ cells in 1951, long before the advent of consent procedures used in medicine and scientific research today, but lawyers for her family argued that Thermo Fisher Scientific Inc., of Waltham, Massachusetts, has continued to commercialize the results well after the origins of the HeLa cell line became well known. Attorney Ben Crump, who represents the Lacks family, announced the settlement late Monday. He said the terms of the agreement are confidential. “The parties are pleased that they were able to find a way to resolve this matter outside of Court and will have no further comment about the settlement,” Crump said in a statement.

[cheriladycl01]

Switching up on me - Esteban Ocon x Lawyer! Reader

Plot: Busy days using an underground train system you aren't familiar too is stressful enough with all the people and noises, but your day couldn't get any worse when you switch bags with the person you bumped into on the platform.

You were currently running around central Milan in a tizz, you were trying to find the underground station so you could make your way over to the building your client had sent through.

Usually your legal firm dealt with everything strictly in the UK, but this high profile client of yours was unable to make the travel from Italy to England. Your boss sent you off saying you'd have to meet him there to run through final things before you went to court. Everything was in a large duffle bag, all the private documents and confidential agreements and you were struggling holding it next to you.

Once you got into the subway system you placed the bag down next to you but close enough no-one would be able to steal from you. A gentleman came and stood next to you waiting for the next train that was supposed to come in about a minute.

What you didn't anticipate was Milan's sudden rush hour, some guy bumped into you making your trip over your bag. The guy who was next to you caught you and held you steady so you didn't fall onto the tunneled track.

"Thank you!" you smile up at him, and you guys continue to stare up at each other until the train comes into the station. People push their way off and the mystery man looks up at the train side and gasps when he notices it's his. He grabs his bag and jumps on while you watch in awe as the love of your life, your literal soulmate leaves the station on the train.

You wait knowing that one was heading out of the city and sit on a bench waiting for yours to come in.

You pick up the bag which feels slightly heavier than before but you don't think much off it. You get on the next tube which is luckily a lot quieter and manage to get a seat and have your bag on your lap. When you feel it, it feels a little odd, not as padded out in some areas as you remembered it being.

You slowly unzip the bag, seeing none of your things. No water bottle with turtle stickers, or university hoodie, no legal documents of your clients and no nice pair of heels you were supposed to put on before you got to the office after your train commute and small walk.

"No no no!" you whispers to yourself rummaging through finding a helmet, a suit and other various manly bits that weren't yours.

You then remembered the man on the platform and that you must have switched bags. You smiled at the thought that you guys had the exact same bags which just fueled your thoughts of the fact that the very attractive man that saved your life on the Milan underground was in fact your soulmate.

You get off at the next stop at a completely random place in Milan, where you see and advertisement for the F1 race in Monza. The guy must be something to do with that, he was heading that way and he had the helmet and race suit.

You pull out your phone and pull up your clients number before calling them.

"Hey Y/N!" they answer after one ring and immediately they sound a little guilty.

"Everything alright?" you ask.

"Well, you see somethings come up and I'm going to need to postpone everything until tomorrow and the day after, I'll pay for the flight for the inconvenience and your extra hotel expenses and you know what even through dinner on me tomorrow night. I'll take you to a nice place in Milan, but I'm so sorry I cant do it today!" she blurts out and a massive smile comes onto your face.

"That's no problem at all, I can er... do a little more research in the mean time and ... maybe explore the city!" you exclaim knowing you'd be heading on a tube straight for Monza.

"Ahhhh! Your a star I'm so glad the company sent you! I swear you are the only one I trust! But defiantly explore the city it's beautiful. I'll see you tomorrow babe but I really have to go! Okay goodbye!" she says before hanging up.

"You clutch the bag, looking around before you find your way to the nearest taxi service.

"Hello, could you take me to Monza? The er race track?" you ask having no idea if there was a specific name.

"130 euro!" he says and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the price.

"Yeah, that's fine!" you grit your teeth.

You are there in no-time jumping out after paying the driver and looking at the map to try and find the most sensible place to go. You assume the paddock where it leads to the garages makes the most sense.

However as you get there and see the security and the pass entrance you start to panic. You walk up to one of the security with a friendly smile on your face which was almost sheepish.

"Hi, this is going to sound so bizarre but I think I've switched bags with a driver and I have their helmet and race suit. Can I get in to hand it back to him please and to get my bag back?" you ask and he laughs.

"Yeah sod off kid!" he laughs the one next to him joining in.

"No I'm being series look!" you say unzipping the bag. They look at it and look between each other.

"Radio it through to alpine" one of the says before walking off through the entrance. You awkwardly stand there waiting for someone to say anything.

"I've been told to bring her through!" the one on the walky talky says letting you go through. He walks with you until you come up to one place that has a big picture of the man you met in the subway.

"Esteban?" you ask pointing to his picture and the security guard nods.

"Apparently he went out to look for you, he's been called by his team to come back as you are here!" he smiles before walking off towards the front. Someone comes running out the front in team gear smiling at you.

"Hey, come with me can we get you anything to drink. You can wait in Esteban's driver room!" he smiles and you politely decline a drink, placing yourself on the sofa and waiting patiently.

"Hey!" a voice interrupts you from scrolling on your phone.

"Hey, I erm think I have something of yours!" you grin, holding up the bag and he sighs seeing his bag the exact colour and model that yours was.

"Thank god! That bag has my life in it!" he cries.

"I think i would have been fired if I actually lost mine!" you admit.

"Yeah, I just want you to know the minute I saw confidential i didn't look through anything. I only found the key card to your hotel room, that's where I was heading to in hopes you'd gone there to try make some calls.

"I worked out you must be a driver and that you'd probably be in dire need so i came straight here!" you smile and he nods.

"Well thank you for delivering the goods!" he smiles handing over your bag. You smile and thank him, before hesitating to exit the room. However you do with a sad sort of smile, knowing you'd probably never see him again.

"Wait!" a voice shouts making your turn round and you see Esteban stood there.

"Can I please have your number, or take you out to dinner as a thank you?" he asks looking over you, trying to get a read.

"Really?" you grin, not expecting him to have asked.

"Well, I think it's sort of fate right?" he asks with a little sly grin on his face.

"Yeah, I guess you're right!" you grin.

Taglist:

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[harveysweakness]

Hii ! I’ve been absolutely loving your fics and I’m so glad there’s another writer writing Harvey x Reader !!

I was wondering if you could write a fic that involved the reader being a lawyer in another firm dealing with a tough case that’s been on their mind 24/7, then during the night one day, Harvey wakes up in the middle of the night and the reader isn’t in bed but is in the kitchen or something because they can’t sleep. Maybe Harvey consoles the reader and tries to convince them to go back to bed or pulls a “if you’re staying up, i am too.” even though he’s sleepy.

Just a overall idea/prompt :) do what you’d like! have fun with it, cause i love your writing 🙌🏼

A/N: I went so so soft writing this and Harvey did too aoifjaeofijaofeij

"Good morning," you greeted, picking up the call from Harvey.

"Will you come over tonight?" Harvey asked. Your heart broke a bit, knowing you'd told him no the past three nights. Work had been stressing you out and you hadn't really even been sleeping except for a couple hours each night. Last night you hadn't even gone home from the office. Maybe you did need a break, and you certainly wanted to see the handsome man you'd been dating for the past month.

"Yes."

"Good."

You couldn't help but smile and give a little laugh. "I'll see you tonight, Harvey."

"Have a good day, Y/N."

-------

You sighed, staring up at Harvey's bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep. You had had a wonderful evening with the man lying asleep next to you, but your thoughts were still swirling.

You weren't quite sure how you were going to win this one. A certain confidentiality agreement your client had stupidly decided to sign was proving to be the biggest annoyance and a roadblock to your obvious win.

Sighing once more, you carefully slid out from under the covers and padded barefoot to the kitchen where your work bag sat. Pulling your laptop out, you tucked your feet up under you on the couch and went to work.

"Sweetheart?"

A smile fell on your lips hearing Harvey's voice, full of sleep, slightly husky. You looked up at him, setting your laptop to the side.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't sleep."

"How are you going to win a case if you've run yourself ragged?"

"Okay, you have a point," you sighed, eyeing your laptop before shutting it.

"That's what I like to see."

You almost stood and let him lead you back to bed, but your anxiety hit.

"I can't," you murmured, an apologetic expression forming.

"What- you just told me," he tried to fight.

"I'm sorry, I have to work."

"So I can't get you back to bed?" he huffed. You stood, making your way over to him, goosebumps erupting at the feeling of his hand lightly running up and down your arm.

"You can get me back to bed once I finish this case," you whispered before wrapping your arms around him and giving him a light kiss. He took a deep breath in and out before giving you a pointed look.

"Then I'm staying up with you."

"No, you most certainly are not," you retorted, removing yourself from his embrace and crossing your arms.

"Can't stop me," he said, moving to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, yawning.

"You're ti-" you stopped, knowing he would just same the same back to you.

"That's what I thought," he smirked, plopping down on the couch. You sat down next to him, pulling your laptop onto your lap.

"Will it bother you if I put on TV?"

You shook your head, appreciating the ask and the way his hand briefly squeezed your knee.

For the next hour, the two of you continued to fight sleep, you having to shake your head a few times in an attempt to refocus your eyes, and Harvey's eyes drooping several times, head falling slightly before picking himself back up. You were beginning to feel beyond guilty about causing him to lose sleep, but a weight against your shoulder had you smiling.

You looked down to see Harvey fast asleep, eyes closed, soft snores starting to come from him. Though it might have made you more tired, you felt more awake, trying not to wake him.

And when he shook you awake an hour later, dragging you both back to bed, you knew he was the perfect man for you.

[richarlotte]

More sugaring advice?

If you’re experienced, have a polished image, offer a high-class experience, and know how to present yourself, then I’d recommend requesting a donation of no less than $900. Once I really learned what I was doing, locked down my social media and focused on providing a relationship that was totally private, and made an effort to meet with men I normally wouldn’t pursue, I was able to raise my minimum to $2000 (adjusted for cost of living) and keep it very high. No woman should be settling for a PPM that’s less than $600; that’s ridiculous and a total ripoff. Do not waste your time with time wasters, hobbyists, or freaks.

 

Vetting is important, but that doesn’t mean digging into people’s personal lives. It’s obviously really important to make sure that you’re keeping yourself safe, but high-profile clients aren’t going to want you to dig through every aspect of their lives. Discretion is key, and if you do find something unsavoury about someone, cut that person off and add him to the blacklist. NDAs and confidentiality agreements aren’t as popular as you’d think, but when they do happen, be sure that you’re not setting yourself up to get taken advantage of in the long run.

 

If you want to prove a truly high-class experience, you need to be willing to do a lot to conform to the image you’re expected to conform to, and you have to be careful with how you act, how you speak, and what you do. If you are in situations with alcohol, make sure you can handle yourself and make sure that you don’t get sloppy drunk. Know the dress code before you go and adhere to it, keep the conversations flowing naturally, and don’t force connections that aren’t going to work. If you’re meeting businessmen, then you have to be business minded, if you’re meeting lawyers, then you have to know the law, and you have to be able to adapt and work with the situations that you find yourself in.

 

There is not one image that men are looking for when it comes to black women. I see so many posts that push the bougie stereotype, but that’s not the only image that’s desired. I have met so many men and succeeded when I’m myself; men absolutely love being around someone who’s bubbly, positive, and able to handle herself. You have to figure out what you want to do but understand that you can’t constantly be updating and rebranding. If you’re young now and plan on being in the game for a number of years, start out with an image that you can work with and that will age naturally. Whatever you do must seem graceful, not forced. Being black means you have to work with the gifts you have been given.

 

Never bring work too close to home. These men should not know your full name or home address; they shouldn’t know how to find you when they want to, they shouldn’t have access to your real social media accounts, and you should be very concerned about your privacy. Do not let men you don’t know pick you up and take you to a second location, don’t let men come near your apartment building or office, consider working in the nearest major city to you instead of staying in your city, and always carry protection on you. Every woman should read The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker and research the number of women and sex workers who are attacked yearly before they don’t take their own safety seriously.

[gothamite-rambler]

Harley hates her court appointed therapist

Barbara (doubtful): Is the guy really that bad?

Harley: We went to the same college together, if he wasn't insulting people, he'd overanalyze them to mock them! He's the one who started that fuckin' rumor I slept with Professor Cramer to pass, then it spread!

Barbara: That's how it started, shit... I swear some guys are petty and vindictive like that.

Ivy (returning with coffee): Same here. I can't believe they assigned you that guy.

Harley: I know right and he insults me at every turn!

Barbara: I don't want to be rude, but are you sure you're not upset because you have to go to one for... obvious reasons and you yourself were a therapist?

Harley (seething): That. Is. Not. Why! First of all I was a psych and therapist, second I have no issue with court appointed therapy. I've had a few in the past that were good at their job and FIFTH he has brought that up in nearly every damn session! Weaves it into the conversation! 'Harley are you mad you fell for a psycho and ruined your credibility in anything?' Oh yeah well are you made you got the nickname Bottle because you stuck small dick in one once and it got stuck!

Barbara: You- You haven't mentioned that to him, have you?

Harley: No, that's the other thing, I am civil to him. I've made it clear I just want to discuss my progress and talk about issues in my life. Do you know that bed wetter fell asleep during one of our sessions?

Ivy: Hm, that's not okay.

Barbara nodded in agreement.

Harley: I swear he's making my intrusive thoughts want to become more fuckin' vocal!

Barbara: Harley, I get the frustration, but violence and possibly killing him won't fix this. Can't you request a new one?

Harley (raising her bat): They're not going to approve it, they'll take his word over mine and one day I'm goin' to bring in my whole bat and-

Ivy: Harley, practice the coping skills you always ramble about.

Harley took deep breathes while pacing across the room and erratically grumbling.

Harley: The only way they'd believe me is if I brought in a recordin' as evidence. I can't do that because of the bullshit confidentially agreement. I swear to God, I'm this close to beatin' his ass!

Barbara: That would be true, but Gotham is a one-party consent state when it comes to recordin' sessions.

Harley (shocked): What?

Ivy: No way.

Barbara: It's a one party state, all of New Jersey is. As long as you consent to it you can record your next session. Then play for the judge or whoever you meet with and they might consider giving you a new therapist.

Ivy (confused): Okay, but like how do you know that?

Barbara (flatly): I'm a crime fighter and live in Gotham, you're seriously shocked I do thorough research on the laws and rules of this state? Also, why did you come with Harley? Shouldn't-

Ivy (raising her hand): I got a good lawyer, on probation. You can thank Nightwing for that. Always was a good kid.

Barbara: Nightwing... I'm having a talk with him about that later. Back to Harley, record a session or two and get ready to use it against him. Don't just be civil with him either, be saccharine sweet, that way when you play it for the meeting they'll see a reformed criminal being talked down to by a man who got his little penis stuck in a coke bottle with a petty grudge against you.

Harley (mischievous smile): I mean if there's a law that says I can record the sessions, then I have a right to. Thanks, Babs.

Barbara: It's what I'm here for.

Barbara took a quick sip from her coffee, then spoke to Ivy with a smirk.

Barbara: Shame you couldn't tell your girlfriend that, Ivy.

Ivy: Shame you thought every room in this shack should have a tv in it.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Comment in the Standard: How dare Montecito millionaire Prince Harry demand our tax money to cover his legal costs

This subject matter cannot be covered too much for my taste.

Emphasis and comments by me:

Prince Harry’s latest court defeat in his rightly unsuccessful bid to overturn the decision to refuse him guaranteed Met police protection after he pulled out of royal duties might seem like a trivial battle over legal fees.

But in fact the duke’s failed attempt to pass 50 to 60 per cent of the costs incurred by the Home Office in fighting his unmerited claim tells us much about the preening prince and his selfish disregard for virtually anyone other than himself, his equally self-obsessed wife, Meghan Markle, and his children. [No one else matters of course. It is all about them.]

That’s because when the Duke of Sussex, as he still wants to be called despite ditching his royal role, wasted yet more of the High Court’s time in arguing for the taxpayer to fund at least half of the hundreds of thousands of pounds that the Home Office was forced to spend on the case, what he was really doing was trying to pass on a large chunk of the bill to ordinary taxpayers. [Sponging off others is quite on brand.

That’s right: instead of having the decency to accept that he’d have to pay up when he lost, the Montecito multimillionaire, for whom the legal expenses will be loose change, wanted taxes paid by everyone ranging from people on the minimum wage to bus drivers, cleaners and pensioners to cover his costs. It’s frankly contemptible. [Does he think it is his birthright to have the peasants pay for his temper tantrums?]

It's notable too that yesterday’s costs order by the High Court judge, Sir Peter Lane, reveals that Harry, who is so protective of his own privacy (when it suits him), managed to breach a confidentiality agreement made as part of the litigation by emailing “certain information” that was meant to be secret to one his lawyers and the MP Johnny Mercer. The prince might have apologised for the error, but the costs order refers to the “seriousness of the breach” and it was at best a sloppy mistake that added to the Home Office costs that he was trying to avoid. [What were you up to Harold?]

Harry’s whole case was, of course, misconceived from the start and it’s worth recapping why.

He asserted that the decision in 2020 by security experts on the Government’s Executive Committee for the Protection of Royalty and Public Figures, known as Ravec, that he should no longer receive publicly-funded police protection in Britain because of his move abroad should be overturned.

The supposed reasons were that the committee had allegedly failed to take into account the impact of a successful attack on the prince and had also acted unreasonably, unfairly and with a lack of transparency.

It was nonsense for the prince to think that he knew better than a panel of experts informed by the latest security advice from the police and intelligence agencies. [This man has a very high opinion of himself.] The High Court unsurprisingly dismissed Harry’s claim on all grounds, finding that there was no reason to overturn the Ravec panel’s decision. It had in fact left open the possibility of occasional police protection for the prince when in Britain, if there was evidence in future of a sufficient threat to his safety.

An attempt by the prince to persuade the courts that a later offer by him to pay for police protection should have been accepted was also rebuffed. Yet another judge dragged into Harry’s interminable litigation ruled it would be wrong to allow the wealthy to receive a service from the limited pool of specialist Met protection officers that a less affluent person could not afford.

That too was the correct and inevitable decision. Police protection officers are highly skilled specialists, trained at significant public expense, who exist only in restricted numbers and who are required to safeguard those facing the highest risks such as working royals, Cabinet ministers and prime ministers current and former, not others like Harry wanting the comfort blanket of protection they don’t need.

In short, every argument put forward by Harry was flawed and rejected by the courts. It’s a sign of his delusion that even the succession of earlier rebuffs from the judiciary didn’t stop him basing his attempt to get off a big chunk of the Home Office’s costs in fighting the litigation on the fantasy claim that he’d achieved “partial success” in his legal action. [He learns nothing from his experiences.]

Maybe that was how Harry viewed it. After he all, he told the world in his biography Spare that “there's just as much truth in what I remember and how I remember it as there is in so-called objective facts”.

But it simply wasn’t true, as yesterday’s High Court costs order reminded him.

It pointed out that Harry had “comprehensively lost” and that there was “no merit” in his claim of partial victory with his judicial review argument failing “on all of the pleaded grounds.” [Harold is a big loser.]

It was the obvious outcome from the start and the claim should never have been brought. His inevitable defeat was deserved and now it’s time for the penny-pinching prince to pay up.

👉 How dare Montecito millionaire Prince Harry demand our tax money to cover his legal costs | Evening Standard (archive.ph)

post link

author: Von_und_zu_

submitted: April 17, 2024 at 10:53AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Marshall Cohen at CNN:

The pro-Trump cable outlet Newsmax and voting technology company Smartmatic settled a major defamation lawsuit Thursday in a last-minute agreement, averting a high-stakes trial over the airing of false 2020 election claims. The terms of the settlement were not immediately known. The deal comes hours after jury selection got underway in a Wilmington, Delaware, courtroom ahead of opening statements scheduled for Monday. The parties, and a court official, announced the settlement Thursday afternoon. “Newsmax is pleased to announce it has resolved the litigation brought by Smartmatic through a confidential settlement,” the network said in a statement. Smartmatic lawyer Erik Connolly said in a statement that the company was “very pleased to have secured the completion” of the Newsmax case.

“Lying to the American people has consequences,” Connolly said. “Smartmatic will not stop until the perpetrators are held accountable.” The closely watched trial would have been the first of several high-profile lawsuits filed against right-wing media companies in the wake of the 2020 election to reach a jury – and was set to determine whether Newsmax defamed Smartmatic by airing false claims the company’s machines had rigged the results against Donald Trump. Newsmax denied wrongdoing and said its coverage was protected by the First Amendment.

[...] Smartmatic has claimed that the lies promoted by Newsmax, Fox News, and other Trump allies destroyed its reputation and cost the company billions of dollars. However, as the Newsmax trial approached, Smartmatic’s lawyers reduced the company’s damages claim to approximately $370 million, lowering their demands by about $1 billion, according to statements from both parties. This drop was spurred in part by Delaware Superior Court Judge Eric Davis, who ruled Monday that Smartmatic could only seek compensation for provable losses, eliminating the possibility of additional “punitive damages” that might result in an eye-popping damages award.

Right-wing propaganda network Newsmax and Smartmatic settle the election defamation lawsuit prior to the Smartmatic v. Newsmax case heading for a trial. During the aftermath of the 2020 election, numerous Newsmax hosts (esp. Greg Kelly), contributors, and guests pushed election denialist conspiracy theories about the outcome.

[mariacallous]

Founder’s terminal illness spells the end for Flibusta, a treasure trove of pirated Russian literature

Known only by his callsign “Stiver,” the founder and administrator of the online library Flibusta announced in a brief message on Tuesday that the project will soon shut down. In the same message, he revealed that he’s been diagnosed with a brain tumor. “Unfortunately, it seems this is the end for Flibusta and for yours truly,” wrote Stiver, explaining that the website’s servers are paid for a few more weeks, after which the online library will cease to exist. 

What is Flibusta?

It’s an online library that openly flouts copyright laws and features more than 630,000 books — roughly 83 percent in Russian. The project’s peak popularity was a decade ago when as many as 4 million people visited the site each month. By the spring of 2016, however, monthly traffic had fallen to just 163,000 visits, thanks to decisions by Russia’s federal censor to block access to Flibusta and the Moscow City Court’s ruling to block the online library permanently for repeated copyright violations. 

Flibusta emerged in October 2009 when several disgruntled users of Librusek (an earlier online library) launched their own rival project in protest against Librusek’s publishing agreement with Litres, Russia’s biggest legal e-book and audiobook marketplace. (Litres itself is the product of a merger of the country’s three major online libraries that had been distributing pirated content.) According to the deal, books that appeared on Litres were unavailable for download to Librusec users for a month. 

Flibusta’s anonymous founder, identifying himself as Stiver, described the break as an ideological schism and faulted Librusek founder Ilya Larin for committing the cardinal sin of “mixing piracy and business.” In 2011, Stiver declared that “Larin was never an ideological pirate.” Stiver insisted that only non-commercial projects are invulnerable to book publishers’ pressure: “The generation of profit-seekers cannot understand that people just want to read books without turning them into a commodity. Let people read. Let them read a lot, and let them read well. That's all we need.”

Problems with the authorities

It wasn’t long before Russian book publishers turned their attention to Flibusta. In September 2011, Stiver reported issues accessing the online library, claiming that his hosting provider was “under heavy pressure” and had asked to disable direct access to the website during an ongoing investigation. Eksmo Publishing House later revealed that its lawyers had contacted the Dutch hosting company Ecatel with a request to disclose the identity of Flibusta’s owners. Two years later, Flibusta started independently blocking access to certain books amid complaints from the project’s team that book publishers weren’t providing them with lists of materials subject to copyright claims.

In 2016, the German police ended a two-year investigation into Stiver, finding no evidence of criminal activity. Months earlier, the CEO of the Association for the Protection of Rights on the Internet (which includes Eksmo) said he knew Stiver’s real name but wouldn’t reveal it to protect the investigation’s confidentiality. When the German authorities closed the case, the association’s head expressed disappointment and said the police had handled the matter “superficially.”

In response to being blocked in Russia, Flibusta tried to bypass censors by making the project accessible through numerous mirror sites (which distorted Similarweb traffic data) and delivering content to users through alternative channels, such as torrent trackers and a Telegram chatbot.

The death of Flibusta

Though the platform has been essentially a labor of love, “supported by a group of enthusiasts scattered across the globe,” Stiver’s recent announcement suggests that he won’t be transferring full control or the means to support the project to anyone on Flibusta’s team. On social media, users have asked the library about crowdfunding to sustain the site without Stiver, but the project’s Twitter account has merely tweeted a thread of hyperlinks to alternative online libraries. 

[bursting-at-the-seems]

Housing Disability Discrimination Support

Hi everyone,

I'm reaching out to share my experience with my LL and to seek advice or support as I believe I am experiencing disability discrimination.

Questions:

Am I on the right track? Are they in violation?

What to I do next?

Can I represent myself? Do I need an attorney?

Is it time to file state and federal reports?

Know of an AZ attorney who can help?

Summary:

I've been facing significant issues with my landlord (LL) regarding delayed disability accommodations and incorrect billing. Despite requesting accommodations over three months ago, they has not resolved the issue. Additionally they have made billing errors, including unauthorized charges and fees that are connected to my accommodation request, and they have failed to communicate effectively. Additionally, their legal counsel has used ableist language and derailed conversations about accommodations, seemingly to discourage me from pursuing my rights; I also think they are misrepresenting the law. This situation has caused undue hardship, and I believe their actions may constitute harassment and discrimination under the Fair Housing Act (FHA), Americans with Disability Act, and Arizona Residential Landlord and Tenant Act (ARLTA). At this point I am prepared to take legal action if necessary and am seeking advice or support from others who may have faced similar issues.

Context:

- I and two roommates have lived here for 4 years. In December, my symptoms got worse, and I was diagnosed with chronic conditions. We have been in an ADA unit for 3 of the 4 years.

- I pay for a garage, one roommate pays for a carport, and the other utilizes the free parking option. There is no ADA parking on the shortest route to our ADA dwelling. Free ADA parking spaces are not accessible to me due to having to cross a parking lot and other spaces or walk through a handful of hallways.

- Many tenants complain of a lack of parking and often need to park far from dwellings, park illegally, in another’s paid spot, or leave the complex to park elsewhere.

- All dwellings aside from ADA units have top-loading washers. E-check payments can only have 2 fails before being revoked. During my flare of symptoms and unexpected medical costs, we had two fails. Our first two in 4 years.

- This is a privately owned complex with more than 4 units, built in 2009. AZ has one-party consent recording laws. LL office has a history of not answering the phone.

Timeline:

April:

-Concern (confidential per agreement)

-During this concern I began learning about my rights with regards to my disabilities

-Concern resolved

-Accommodations requested

-documentation submitted (doctors note, state issued Handicap Card)

-Maintenance staff states it would be easy to provide top loading washer, could do it right away

May:

-Attorney pushback need new medical note (dr signature not seen), states ADA doesn’t apply, doesn’t understand nexus

-New Medical Note submitted

-Detailed explanation o f nexus over and above required

-Lawyer states LL Not obligated to pay for modifications

-Approves some modifications at my expense

-Approves reinstatement of my ability to make echeck payments, one additional chance only

-Does not approve transition to top loading washer or elevating washer per doctors note or accessible parking

-LL legal rep implies I should be grateful for the upgrade despite stating why it is not accessible for me

-LL legal rep states ADA has no relevance

-LL states they have other top loading machines available but don’t want to have to deal with/ store our front loading.

-LL legal rejects accessible washer and dryer accommodation and accessible parking does not offer alternative solution

-LL states they will have maintenance build block under washer to raise it despite LL legal rep decline (this has been provided)

-LL legal rep states keep paying for garage or use covered parking space, despite covered spot irrelevance as it is another tenants

June:

-payed June invoice via e-check since ability reinstated (documented)

-Lease on dwelling needs to be renewed at the end of month, in reviewing contract notice garage rent has increased by ~67%

-Called City of Gilbert to review ada parking codes, informed that if in an ADA unit FHA states that there must be an ada parking space on shortest route to dwelling. Recorded call.

-Emailed regarding lease renewal and ongoing parking discussion pushing back on increase and restating my request for accessible parking accommodation

-LL legal rep states there is no such thing as an ADA unit, despite the property management referring to it as it and it being a colloquially accepted term.

-LL rep states they do not see why I need accessible parking when I pay for a garage, and we have a covered spot and nothing LL needs to do. That the city is incorrect.

-Push back on this, reexplain that I would give up my garage if g tr here was a free accessible parking option and once again that the covered spot belongs to another tenant.

- nearing lease deadline, reached out asking if we can sign bur leave the garage terms out until resolved or have an extension without fee

-Followed up again with no response onexpiring lease options, highlighting unresolved disability accommodations initially requested in April (over 3 months without resolution).

- LL acknowledged the need for review and suggested a month-to-month (MTM) option at no extra cost until disputes over increased garage rent and the request for accessible parking are resolved.(Documented)

- Received recurring payment reminder, states billing amounts may change based on account balance, account balance is controlled by LL

- while not required as auto pay established, checked ledger around 10pm on 6/30 and saw an amount of $99.76. (Documented)

July:

- In July 1 discovered LL increased the bill and auto-billed $2,943.81, including fees previously agreed not to charge (MTM fee and disputed garage cost).

- Called LLtwice, no response.

- Visited the leasing office with roommate 1; charges were adjusted but a refund was refused. LL assistant manager (am) asserted that only a credit for the following month could be issued, leaving us without $500 in our budget. LLAM said, “It’s not fair but that’s how it is.” Suggested we stop check if we needed another solution. The conversation was recorded.

- Emailed LL with an update.

- Called the bank and was informed of a $30 fee for stopping the check.

- Called LL and spoke with LLAM she stated LL would not cover the canceled check fee. Reminded LLAM this issue arose due to LL oversight and they should bear the fees. -Discussed an alternative solution of letting the check bounce, which LLAM confirmed would not incur a fee and would allow continued e-check payments per the accommodation terms, without a late fee. This call was witnessed by another resident.

- Emailed LL to summarize the call and communicated that we would not return from our holiday until July 7 and would make the payment once there was confirmation that the check had not gone through.

- LL acknowledged the situation, mentioned a grace period for late fees but incorrectly stated that we chose to make an overpayment.

-July 4 Leasing office closed.

-July 8 Received notice that the check was rejected by SanTan upon our return from holiday, attempted payment but was unable to do so online, called the office but was unable to connect with staff.

-July 9 Attempted payment again and found additional fees despite agreements from LL,LLAM

- Received a threatening eviction notice on the door with no prior communication from the leasing office.

-Emailed LL all the above, proving that we did not choose to make this payment; it resulted from LL error in not updating the system per the agreement to not charge for MTM or the disputed garage fee. The auto payment was triggered by LL incorrect managing of account balance despite stating we would not be charged fees and late payment was due to LLAM not following through with commitments on being able to make e-check payment and no fees.

-July Three calls to the office from various residents of 1086 went unanswered.

- Sent an email to LL seeking resolution.

- Follow-up emails from LL and LLAM stating they will get back to us

- Conversation with LL over the phone, who inaccurately asserted that the overpayment was our mistake and held us responsible for all fees. Clarified that the June 30 and July 1 amounts were both incorrect, and the automated payments were managed by LL. Call recorded.

- Left a voicemail for LL corporate office

- Paid July rent, excluding disputed fees and deducting $10 for the cashier check charge that was only needed to be obtained due to LL Error. LL spoke to other roommates incorrectly stating they didn’t understand why I chose to over pay. Roommate 2 states, auto payment controlled by them, and we had checked which we should not have needed to do -no one is checking their Spotify auto payments - recorded

- Submitted formal complaint for delayed accommodation and billing error highlighting the above information

- LL said was not needed as they had been communicating and that the billing and requests are a separate issue - says accepted partial payment as curtesy

- LL legal rep responds to earlier email, not formal complaint, and again rejects accessible parking accommodation, says not needed despite documentation, to keep paying or use other tenants spot, no other option provided, states rate increase is not discriminatory, says this is the last of the matter.

-LL states we are to sign lease by Aug 1, no reinstatement of epayment, offered to cover $80 of fees and we are responsible for over $250

-LL sends this in three separate emails

- Forwards Formal complaint to senior LL corporate staff, LL legal rep, and LL. States that billing errors and the 3 month delay in accommodation are inherently linked as the LL said no fee to extend while we sort through accommodation, then failed to ensure their billing was correct and put burden on me.

Key Points:

Untimely Resolution of Accommodation Request: Over three months have passed since the initial request for disability accommodations, an excessive and legally questionable delay under the Fair Housing Act.

Potential Delay Tactics: It appears that LL may have deliberately delayed the accommodation process, which coincided with our lease renewal period. This delay tactic is concerning as it suggests an attempt to force us out of the premises, especially given the sudden notice of five days provided after their billing mistake.

Legal Counsel's Conduct: LL legal counsel has repeatedly used ableist language and derailed conversations about accommodations by fixating on irrelevant information and nitpicking colloquial language. This appears to be an intentional strategy to wear out disabled tenants and discourage them from pursuing their rightful accommodations.

Legal Implications: Potential disability discrimination due to unresolved accommodation requests and mishandling of billing.

Definition of Harassment in Housing Context: Harassment in a housing context includes actions that create a hostile living environment, repeated and unreasonable demands, or failure to make necessary accommodations, particularly when these actions are taken against someone because of their membership in a protected class (such as individuals with disabilities).

Legal Case Summary:

LL actions constitute a blatant disregard for Arizona state law and federal housing regulations. Under the Arizona Residential Landlord and Tenant Act (ARLTA), landlords are required to maintain fit and habitable premises and make all repairs necessary to keep the premises in a livable condition (A.R.S. § 33-1324). LL repeated billing errors and failure to address accommodations contravene these obligations. Furthermore, under the Fair Housing Act (FHA), it is illegal to discriminate against individuals with disabilities, including failing to make reasonable accommodations in rules, policies, practices, or services when such accommodations may be necessary to afford a person with a disability an equal opportunity to use and enjoy a dwelling. The excessive delay of over three months in addressing my accommodation request is unreasonable and likely a violation of the FHA. Additionally, the rent increase after the accommodation request, the assertion that paying for accessible parking is the only option, followed by an increase in garage rent (the accessible parking option), and the mishandling of July rent with associated fees and penalties, are all linked and indicative of a pattern of discriminatory and retaliatory behavior by LL. These actions, taken together, create a hostile living environment and impose undue financial and emotional stress potentially constituting harassment. Federal guidelines and best practices indicate that accommodation requests should be acknowledged within 3-5 business days, an interactive process should begin immediately and be completed within 1-2 weeks, and simple modifications should be addressed within a few weeks. The delay of over three months in resolving the request for accessible parking is excessive and fails to meet these standards. Timeline above illustrates LL failure to uphold agreed-upon lease terms and accommodate disability needs regarding accessible parking. Their actions have led to undue financial burden and threats of eviction, potentially violating both the FHA and state law. SanTan's conduct could be construed as harassment and discrimination, subjecting them to significant legal liability.

Action Needed from LL:

Immediate correction of billing errors, waiver of unauthorized fees, reinstatement of e-check payment ability, resolution of the accommodation request, and execution of the lease agreement. LL must address communication shortcomings and ensure compliance with the FHA and the Arizona Residential Landlord and Tenant Act to prevent further legal consequences, including potential lawsuits for discrimination, harassment, and breach of contract.Failure to comply to result in legal action seeking damages, including punitive damages, for the distress and financial losses incurred due to LL unlawful practices. We are prepared to pursue all available remedies under state and federal law to protect rights and ensure fair treatment.

Any advice, support, suggestions on the above much appreciated!

[mysafehaneul]

Chapter 8 Part 3

The door swung open dramatically, revealing Jungkook's entry. Following behind him, Deokyeom strolled into your office. 

"How's my favorite sister-in-law in the whole world doing?" 

You rose from your chair, and a surprised smile graced your face as you went to greet Jungkook. A warm embrace conveyed your delight at his unexpected visit. Meanwhile, Deokyeom, ever the gentleman, waited near the door for your approval.

You gently patted Jungkook's back, signaling the end of your embrace.

 "I'm good, Jungkook. What brings you here?" You turned to acknowledge Deokyeom, who remained poised near the door. "Mr. Lee, please, come in."

Mr. Lee responded with a respectful bow and extended his warm greetings. 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." you offered. "Why, Noona, aren't you happy to see me here?" Jungkook playfully pouted, and before you could respond, Deokyeom intervened, gently pulling Jungkook to his side. He looked apologetically at you and explained, "I'm sorry, Ms. L/N. I'm aware I was instructed to come alone due to the confidentiality of the matter. However, Mr. Jungkook and I have a meeting with another client afterward, so when I was coming here alone..." Deokyeom's words trailed off, and he added a hint of exaggeration to the word "alone" while shooting a quick glare at Jungkook, who wore the expression of a kicked puppy," Mr. Jungkook insisted that his presence would be beneficial." 

You observed them both quizzically, especially Jungkook, who continued to look at you with puppy-dog eyes. 

"I see," you said, gesturing towards the single unoccupied chair next to Rema at the desk. "Mr. Lee, why don't you settle down? And, you remember Rema, right? She's my lawyer. As you mentioned, this is a matter of confidentiality, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Noona, I thought we became close after that game," Jungkook exclaimed, referencing the truth and dare game. "Why did you want to meet Hyung's lawyer?" He took a step back, a slack-jawed expression taking over his features. He then loudly whispered, "You're... you're going to divorce Hyung already."

"Jungkook, how could you possibly-" you began.

He dramatically grasped your hand and continued, "Noona, I'm sure my Hyung has faults, and he can act like he has a stick up his ass sometimes," you unknowingly nodded in agreement before realizing and chiding yourself. Jungkook carried on, "But he has a heart of gold, and I'm sure he loves you. I've seen it in his ey-"

"Jungkook! Jungkook," you shook your clasped hand to end his rant. 

"No one's divorcing anyone, okay? I've just called Mr. Lee to discuss something about our joint project since your Hyung is in Malaysia," you lied. "So calm down."

You gave him a knowing nod and leaned into mumble, "I know you're not here to see me," giving him a coy smile as a slight blush started to paint his face. He let go of your hand, and you moved back to your desk as Deokyeom settled down. You rang Rachel, who appeared as she entered, and both you and Rema noticed the dumbfounded look on the boy's features.

"Rach, send in some coffee for Ms. Sinha and Mr. Lee, and tea for me," you said, your tone a blend of professional politeness and a subtle plea for assistance. You accompanied your request with an eye smile, a secret signal between you and Rachel that clearly conveyed, 'Please escort Mr. Jungkook elsewhere. I can't have him hanging around during this discussion.'

Rachel nodded and turned her attention to Jungkook, who had been eagerly waiting for his cue.

"Mr. Jungkook," she began, keeping her tone neutral despite the annoyance she felt underneath.

"Yes, Rach," Jungkook responded with an air of exaggerated sweetness that only served to irritate Rachel further.

Nonetheless, Rachel was a seasoned professional. She knew how to maintain her composure even when dealing with individuals who are prone to tripping over air. 

Gesturing gracefully toward the door, she suggested, "After you."

With an agility that contradicted his previous antics, Jungkook promptly stepped up beside the door where Rachel had positioned herself.

"Although I'm disappointed that I can't contribute to this undoubtedly significant meeting," he began, his tone more earnest now, "I'll certainly abide by your wishes, Noona. After all, 'the client is god,' as they say." He offered an exaggerated salute, and added "And Noona, I'm rooting for both of you. Fighting!" with a raised fist, then exited the room.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and slowly shook her head at you, a clear indication of her disbelief at the situation she had just been placed in. Your silent response was an apologetic look, acknowledging that you were well aware of the awkwardness of the encounter.

As Jungkook left, you redirected your attention to face an overly amused Rema and a somewhat embarrassed Deokyeom, who was taken aback by his junior's antics. You let out a breath, feeling relieved.

"Cute kid," Rema mumbled with a chuckle after Jungkook had exited and the door was securely shut.

Deokyeom leaned back in his chair, still somewhat embarrassed. "If one could call a 26-year-old a kid."

"I mean, it must be fun to have him around in the office," Rema suggested. "I'm sure our lives can get pretty monotonous."

Deokyeom looked back at the door, which was now closed. "Yeah, you can say that," he replied affectionately, a touch of nostalgia in his voice.

You leaned forward, interlacing your fingers on the desk, and cleared your throat. "Shall we begin?"

Rema and Deokyeom, both seasoned professionals, quickly donned their professional masks, their expressions shifting to a more serious demeanor as they shifted their focus back to the purpose of the meeting.

...

Racheal was diligently checking her computer screen, going over the agenda that had been covered for the day, and preparing for the next contact with one of the new suppliers. As she typed away, a voice interrupted her.

"I think I've seen you somewhere," the voice said.

She looked up from her computer to see the young man, Jungkook, sitting in the chair next to her desk, a playful grin on his face. He rested his head in his hand and leaned against the desk.

"I'm sure it was from your cousin's wedding—"

"No, you're the girl who's been haunting my dreams," he interrupted with a cheeky smile.

The line sent a shiver down Racheal's arms, and her face twisted in disgust. "Do you use that line often?"

He chuckled. "Not really, no."

"Good," she replied dryly. "It would be quite pitiful if it did work."

Jungkook's smile faded slightly. "I have other lines as well."

"No, thank you," she said dismissively, returning her attention to her computer.

Several minutes passed in silence, with Racheal engrossed in her work and Jungkook idly playing with a paperweight on her desk. Then, he spoke up again.

"Tell me, Rach."

"It's Ms. LEE for you."

"Really?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "So tell me, Rach, do you like friends?"

Racheal's fingers paused over the keyboard when she heard that question, and she slowly raised her eyes to meet his, a vacant look on her face.

"I guess your mum did," he continued casually and went back to toying with the paperweight.

"What's your type?" Jungkook asked with a smirk.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, exasperation evident in her voice. "Guys who don't trip over air and don't try to sleep with every woman they meet."

"Oh, someone has done her research," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile.

"No," she replied, unfazed. "It didn't require much research, just observations from our two brief meetings."

He nodded and, not even four beats of silence later, he opened his mouth again.

"So, Rach, do you believe in past lives?"

Rachel groaned internally. "Oh lord, have mercy," she thought. "How long will this meeting go on?" She leaned back and glanced at the office door. "Please, boss, before I end up killing this man-child."

....

30 minutes later...

Rema glanced at Deokyeom, then at you, and said, "I suppose that covers everything."

"Ms. Y/N," Deokyeom began, his tone inquisitive, "I understand you're a very meticulous businesswoman, but may I inquire why you're creating a will without Mr. Jeon's knowledge?"

You looked over at him, your lips forming a tight smile. He nodded in understanding.

"Well," he continued, "I respect your decision, but I don't believe Mr. Jeon will take kindly to this when he finds out."

You rose from your chair, noticing Rema's habit of biting her lip when she had something to say but held it back. 

"That's alright. I'll talk to Wonwoo about it myself. I hope you respect my decision and keep this information confidential."

Deokyeom's expression darkened, and he replied, "I'm afraid I can't promise that. Since Mr. Jeon is my client, if he inquires about it, I'll have no choice but to inform him."

You nodded in understanding, realizing that you'd have to speak to Wonwoo about this matter yourself to prevent any misunderstandings.

...

"Have you told him about the threats yet?" Rema whispered harshly as soon as you closed the door behind you, having seen Jungkook and Deokyeom off.

"I haven't had the chance," you replied, walking over to the couch. The clock neared 1 pm, and the golden sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow in the room, as the city traffic seemed to slow down.

Rema pressed further, her concern evident in her voice, "What's holding you back from telling him? This is a serious matter."

"Rema, I understand that withholding this information puts the people around me at risk, but what can I tell a person who's away from home dealing with—" 

"At least inform the police," she interrupted, raising her voice.

You both stopped talking when you noticed Racheal standing in the doorway, observing your slightly agitated faces. "Uh... This came in the morning," she said, holding a bouquet of hyacinth floral arrangement.

"If you'd like, I can come back later," she began, slowly backing away.

You closed your eyes, attempting to calm your breathing. "No, it's alright, Rach. Do you know who sent this?"

"I'm not sure. It was on my desk when I returned from the washroom."

Rema walked over to the desk where Racheal had placed the bouquet. "Well, there's a card."

You got up from the couch, walked over to them, and took the card that Rema extended toward you. "I think it must be from your admirer," Rema teased. You rolled your eyes, flipping the card to read it.

The words were written in cursive, and you smiled as you read the first line. But as you continued reading, your face gradually paled. It was as if you'd seen a ghost, and you staggered back, the card slipping from your fingers.

Concern etched all over Rema's face as she bent down to pick up the fallen card, recognizing the fear that had washed over her.

This reminded me of you. 

They say that this flower symbolizes profound sorrow, it was born out of the blood of Hyakinthos who died in an accident when Apollo and Zephyr were fighting over him. 

I am sure you won't want the faith of Hyakinthos, over whose love is greater than the other. 

P.S. I'll make sure your casket is surrounded by these, for I have great confidence a lot of people would feel profound sorrow upon your loss.

"Y/n," Rema said, her voice tinged with worry and pain, "these threats are not hoaxes."

....

You sit in your office, your mind in a daze after the events of the day. The clock on the wall reads 5 PM. Suddenly, there's a soft knock at your door. You look up to see Racheal standing there, concern in her eyes.

"It's time to go home," she says softly. "Shall I accompany you?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, "No, it's okay. I came with the driver. I'll be fine. Thank you, Racheal."

She respects your decision and nods. Together, you leave the office.

Dinner was a bit of a blur as well. Noel and Jeonghan carried on most of the conversation. Jeonghan was leaving tomorrow night with his mother, who he came to pick up since she was afraid of flying alone. When Noel asked if he could go too, you hesitated at first, citing his school commitments. He pouted, and you saw his disappointment. After a moment of contemplation, you thought it might be safer for him to go, especially since you hoped to have resolved the threat hanging over your head by then. You agreed, but with one condition - if Noel ate all his carrots, he could go. He eagerly munched them down, sealing the deal.

 Jeonghan reassured you that Leila, Noel's former nanny will also be there. You nodded and insisted that they could use your private jet, to which he responded with a wistful smile, "Ah, the perks of having rich friends."

After dinner, you and Jeonghan began clearing the table. He had been sensing that something was off since you returned home.

"Are you worried about what I said this morning?" he asked gently. "Don't stress over it. Let things work out at their own pace. It's not like you can control it."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his understanding. He nudged your hips and added, "And if it makes you feel better, I left a wedding gift for you in your bedroom," he winked.

....

....

When Wonwoo arrived, it was around 11 p.m. The lights in the house were mostly off, but he noticed a soft glow coming from your room. He went to his room, took a quick shower, and changed into more comfortable attire. As he towel-dried his hair, he couldn't help but wonder if you were upset with him.

Although he thought you might already be asleep, he decided to check on you. Is she mad at me? He couldn't shake off the nagging feeling.

Your bedroom door was slightly ajar, and as he approached, he could see you standing in front of the mirror. Your hair was gathered in a bun, and you were wearing a stunning deep green dress with a v-neckline, a low plunging back, and a front slit that reached the top of your left thigh. The rose lace details on the dress added to its allure, making you look so breathtakingly beautiful that even the goddess of beauty would be envious. 

He found himself temporarily mesmerized by the sight, unsure whether to interrupt your preparations or simply admire your captivating presence from the doorway.

He pushed the door open gently absently caressing the fabric of your night dress near your stomach. Your eyes were distant, lost in thoughts. Wonwoo stepped closer, concerned.

"You're still awake," he whispered softly. However, you remained oblivious, lost in your contemplation. 

He furrowed his brows, pondering what could be bothering you. He reached out and lightly rested his hand on your shoulder.

Your reaction was swift and startling. You jumped and let out a startled scream. "AHH!!" Wonwoo instinctively covered your mouth with his hand, his heart racing as your panic reverberated through the room. Wide-eyed, he gazed at you in shock, realizing that his presence had caused you distress.

"It's me, it's me," he quickly reassured you, his warm eyes meeting yours. Gradually, your fear began to ebb as you recognized him. "It's just me. Calm down, or you'll wake up the whole House," he whispered, his voice soothing as he removed his hand from your mouth.

You swallowed, your heart still pounding, and closed your eyes, attempting to regain your composure. "Why did you sneak up on me?" your voice quivered slightly, the shock still apparent. You instinctively placed your hand over your racing heart. "I didn't sneak up on you. When I called your name, you were lost in your own world," Wonwoo responded gently. He reached up to lightly flick your forehead and offered you a warm, reassuring smile, which made your furrowed brows slowly relax.

"When did you arrive?" you asked, looking at him inquisitively.

"An hour ago," he replied, his eyes wandering around your room. He couldn't help but notice the gift bag and a Victoria's Secret box on your bed. "Hmm, it looks like someone went shopping," he commented.

You glanced in the direction he was looking and chuckled. "Oh no," you shook your head, "JJ brought this as a gift."

"What was he doing at Victoria's Secret?" Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

You gave him an enigmatic smile. "Trust me, Wonwoo, you'd rather not know," you teased, your eyes sparkling.

You turned to face the mirror, running your hand over the soft material of the nightdress. "I like it. It's very pretty," you said, admiring the garment.

Wonwoo stepped up behind you, his hands gently resting on your waist. Your eyes met in the mirror as he kissed the back of your neck, his lips brushing your skin. "I think it's you wearing it that makes it prettier," he murmured against your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Load of shit," you responded with a smoky voice, your stomach fluttering with his nearness.

"You wound me, Mrs. Jeon," Wonwoo retorted playfully.

"I never anticipated you to be so easily woundable, Mr. Jeon," you quipped, tugging at his still half-dried hair. He hissed as your nails gently scraped his scalp.

His kisses began to trace a path down your neck, eliciting soft, breathy moans from you.

"Wonwoo," you breathed out.

"Yes, baby girl," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with desire.

But when you didn't respond to his advances, he grew concerned. He gently grabbed your shoulders and made you face him, brushing the hair that had escaped your bun behind your ears. "What's wrong?" he asked, gazing into your eyes, searching for any signs of distress or discomfort.

So many thoughts were jumbling in your head, from the conversation with Jeonghan to the threatening message, the unexpected flowers, and the unsettling meeting with the lawyer. As you tried to figure out how to begin, your eyes stared blankly at the carpet beneath your feet. You felt Wonwoo slightly grab your chin, guiding your gaze to his. "Y/n," he said softly, his thumb gently tracing your lips, "don't overthink it. Just say what's on your mind."

Taking a deep breath, you looked into his warm, reassuring eyes. You decided to confess what had been weighing on your heart. "I kinda missed you," you admitted, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Wonwoo released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and let out a nervous laugh. "You got me worried there for a second," he said, pulling you into a tight hug and gently patting the back of your head. "I kinda missed you too."

As you stood in his embrace, you felt his heartbeat against your palm, a steady and comforting rhythm. You thought about how you wished you could find the right words to express the complex emotions swirling within you. It was challenging to make others understand what was happening inside of you when you couldn't fully explain it to yourself. The words you were accustomed to swallowing had somehow devoured you, leaving you with a maelstrom of feelings that couldn't be easily articulated.

You moved from his warm hug, eyes locking onto his as you asked, "Did you have dinner?"

He nodded in response, and you inquired further, "And how was Malaysia?"

"Humid," he replied, his brow furrowing as he recalled the trip. You arched an eyebrow, prompting him to continue, "Now that I think about it, I feel like I skipped dessert on my flight."

Playfully, you pushed his chest, creating some space between the two of you. Moving the bags and boxes on the bed, you teased, "God, you're so corny," and rolled your eyes at his dessert remark.

But before you could step away, he swiftly sat down on the bed, pulled you gently between his legs, and gazed up at you. "What can be done?" he pondered, his voice softened. "You chose this corny," he added, a mischievous glint in his eye, before slowly pulling you in for a kiss.

The room was dimly lit by a golden night lamp, casting a warm, soft glow on the lovers. A gift box was thrown haphazardly across the room, the light bouncing off its surface. The mirror on the wall reflected the image of the two of you, lost in each other, and the kiss. Outside, the moon gleamed brightly, casting its silvery light through the fluttering white curtains. The room felt like a sanctuary, where time seemed to stand still as you shared this tender moment.

...

You lay on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful half-sleep. But his voice, distant and contemplative, brought you back to the present.

He stared at the ceiling, holding you in his embrace while his mind drifted back to when he was just sixteen.

He began, "You know when I was sixteen, it was my first summer back from London, after getting my driver's license. Mingyu, my best friend, His father used to work for my grandpa, my childhood friend, accompanied me. I was ecstatic about my new car, that Dad brought for me, and it happened to be a full moon night. Both of us shared a profound fascination with astronomy."

Wonwoo chuckled as he continued, "To be honest, I was more excited about taking my new car for a spin. Mingyu took me to this observatory spot he'd found, along with his telescope and everything. It rained earlier that day, and it made the skies even clearer. You won't believe it, Y/N, but when I peered through that telescope, that's when I truly understood why people write poetic praises to the moon."

His voice quivered with emotions as he shared, "Mingyu told me he wanted to earn enough to build a house there, right by the observatory, and after his time was over, it would become an observatory for everyone to enjoy. I remember telling him he didn't have to wait. I promised to buy that land, build a hotel there, and gift that spot to him for the observatory. But Mingyu shook his head, saying that the feeling of earning something couldn't compare to having it handed over."

Wonwoo's voice grew heavy as he recounted the tragic night. "The roads were slippery, and I was getting drowsy. Mingyu insisted on driving, but as we navigated the dark roads, he missed the animal crossing sign. A forest deer suddenly appeared in front of our car, and in an attempt to avoid it, Mingyu made a split-second turn. But with the roads being so slick, our car flipped over."

He paused, the pain of the memory still fresh. "The shards of glass from the window pierced Mingyu's stomach. Even breathing was difficult for him. But he was still alive, and before he took his last breath, he said, 'Thank you for bringing me to see the moon tonight. I'm glad I got to see it before I died.' I kept pleading with him to hold on, talking about the observatory, but he just smiled and closed his eyes."

"Oh, Wonu," you consoled him, cradling his head on your chest as he clung to you. "If only I hadn't taken that car..."

He continued, "If only I had driven that car, he wouldn't have died, Y/N. He had so much potential in school; he was always at the top of his class."

You gently ran your fingers through his hair, and his shoulders shook as he relived the painful memory.

"It's okay, it's okay," you reassured him. "Cry it out. It must have been hurting you for a long time. It's okay."

He sobbed, his face buried in the crook of your neck. After a few minutes, his sobs began to subside, and you continued speaking softly.

"You were just sixteen. There was nothing you could do," you told him. "I'm sure Mingyu was grateful that you survived. Maybe deep down, he knew that if your roles were reversed, he wouldn't have been able to bear your loss."

"How can you say that?" Wonwoo inquired, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You gently cupped his face, wiping away his tears, and said, "I can say that because I know in my heart that when you love someone, Truly love someone, all you want is for them to be happy, even if it means you aren't a part of their life anymore."

"So forgive yourself," you urged, your eyes gleaming with tears and empathy. "You were just a kid, only sixteen, and I'm sure that wherever Mingyu is now, he's looking down at you with a smile, grateful that you're healthy and living well."

He paused and gazed at you, his eyes filled with emotion. "Do you want to know where that accident site is?"

You nodded, your expression a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He moistened his lips and exhaled. "Burbone Road."

Your face fell, and you began shaking your head. "No," you whispered, your voice laden with sorrow. "Wonwoo..."

As you looked more and more crestfallen, your words spilled out. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. That time in the office, and then in the Jeon mansion, I called you greedy, shallow, selfish, and whatnot. Please forgive me, Wonwoo. If I had known earlier, I would've..."

"It's okay, Y/N," he consoled you with a sad smile. "You didn't know. Sometimes our experiences can outweigh our perceptions about someone. But I'm glad you know now. I don't even know why I wanted to bare my soul to you. I've never even talked about this so openly with Eleanor-"

He stopped mid-sentence, a hint of guilt in his eyes. "I shouldn't have mentioned her. I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "Why would you say that? Eleanor was a significant part of your life. I know the way it ended was unfortunate, but that doesn't mean everything was ruined. Sometimes memories are good, and some are bad, but that doesn't mean they aren't worth remembering and mentioning. It's up to us how we view them."

He chuckled, shaking his head. You raised an eyebrow, asking, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he said as he gently brought your hands, which were on his cheeks, and kissed your right palm. "I'm the older one, but it's always you saying the wiser things."

You rolled your eyes and remarked matter-of-factly, "If only people knew that wisdom has nothing to do with age."

"Yes, grandma," he teased, and you playfully punched his shoulder.

"I think we should sleep now."

"What time is it?"

"Oh my goodness, it's 2:00 a.m."

You lay back down on your pillow, and Wonwoo wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. You listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart and felt his fingers caressing your head and playing with your hair.

"Y/N," he spoke softly.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for listening to me. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest."

You turned onto your stomach and interlaced your fingers, resting your chin on his chest.

"I'm glad that whatever the reason, it led me to you and even Noel," he said as you gazed into his eyes. Wonwoo leaned in to plant a kiss on top of your head.

At that moment, with his warm presence embracing you, the circuits of your brain seemed to go haywire. Thoughts and memories flooded in. 

Part 4

[louisisalarrie]

Several of Louis siblings are/were minors when bbg/larry happened, and minors can’t sign NDAs. How could they (L+H, their teams) be sure they wouldn’t say anything?

I genuinely think they didn’t tell louis’ sisters when they were kids. they had social media at an early age and they did deny larry at times, and I think they probably, unfortunately, hid it from them. It wouldn’t have been too hard, with louis being on the road constantly, and then told them when they were old enough to understand.

NDA/Confidentiality Agreement laws in the UK for minors are a little foggy, but are similar worldwide. Like… technically an NDA signed by a minor can’t be legally enforced due to the capacity of that party, but you can still enter into one with them, it’s just that they can void it/pull out of the Agreement at any time before reaching the age of 18. So even if louis’ sisters were told to sign it, it kinda doesn’t matter because they can void it at any time? But whatever. Maybe he got them to sign one to show them how serious it is, even if it was explained to them through a lawyer that it was voidable. But they’re good kids and I’m sure they wanted to be good siblings to him, and I imagine their social media use was monitored closely throughout those years.

It’s a tricky thing, and same goes for what F knows. I doubt he knows all the details, but it would feel extremely wrong to lie to him about louis being his dad for this long. But also, he doesn’t have any social media accounts so it’d be hard for him to spread it unless he like… borrowed a friend’s phone and recorded himself saying it or whatever but he’s like 9. Anyway, yeah, it’s difficult but not impossible. Basically every child star ever has to sign one anyway. It’s how it’s phrased to the kid that I think helps them understand the severity of it, and adding a contract means it’s a lot more official to them too.

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 5

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Warnings: Edging, oral sex (female receiving)

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Ever since he saw her on the main stage, swaying her hips with grace, and fixing her filthy eyes on him whenever she turned in his direction while her legs were wrapped around the metallic pole, he knew he had to fuck her. He needed to get a taste of her, he craved her body as if it were the most essential thing in his life.

But when he fucked Love later that night...

He suspected she'd be addictive, but didn't think it'd hit him so fucking hard to the point he was even doubting of returning back to Korea in a few hours.

Her body was made for him. He was convinced of it when he first thrusted into her and her pussy took him so easily, as if it had been waiting an eternity for his cock, as if it had been molded for him. And him only.

The mere thought of him leaving for Korea, and thinking of her sharing that delightful body of hers with someone else was driving him crazy. How would anyone else dare touching her body the way he did, making her legs weak from pleasure? How would she dare make someone else cum the same way she made him explode that night?

Love couldn't. Just one night, and he knew she was his. And he'd do anything, whatever it took him, to keep her body from anyone else, but him.

As for Y/n, she was surprised by the electricity that ran through her body whenever his fingertips caressed her skin, and the way her body reacted every single time he filled her. She enjoyed every second when she reached her high, cumming for the first time with a client.

For the first time since Y/n started working on this, she actually had her fun instead of just making the other cum so she could get her money and leave to clean herself. But that's all it was.

She got a good fuck and fresh cash.

And that's exactly why when he showed up in the same room again, sitting on the edge of the bed, a wide smile that she tried to hide formed on her face. While her pussy throbbed with excitement, just for it all to disappear and be replaced with confusion as a pile of sheets were handed to her.

Jungkook was waiting for her to take the contract and start reading it. But as she took it, she started talking.

—If this is some type of confidentiality agreement, you have nothing to worry about —she was going to hand the papers back to him—. I want to keep this hidden as much as you do.

He kept his hand up high, stopping her from handing the contract back to him. He stood up, making her feel small even if they were almost the same height because of her heels. He was calmed and relaxed, both hands on his trousers, as he explained it to her.

—It's not a confidentiality agreement. It's a service agreement —he took a look at her slender fingers holding the contract—. I want your body to belong to me only.

Suddenly, her mouth went dry. That man actually bothered enough to write a contract to keep her from working. Actually, his lawyer in Korea did. Jungkook specifically ordered him to redact the contract with blank gaps so she'd fill it with her real name. That's why he was handing her a black pen.

She took it with hesitation, still giving him that confused look that kept proving him he had full control of the situation. Of her.

—Read it, and then write your name on each gap before signing it —he commanded.

Looking around, she tried to find a stable place where she'd be able to write her full name on the few blank spaces she managed to find while peeking over the contract. And it seemed like the only stable place she could find was one of the night stands.

—My full name? —she asked.

—Your real name, Y/n.

Of course, Jungkook was blinded by having her, but he wasn't dumb enough to have her sign a contract with her fake name. He had one of the best lawyers in Korea, and he managed to get that contract written perfectly so there would be no misunderstandings in the future -nor possible legal holes that could serve as an "escape" for her.

She gulped the thick load of spit that formed in her mouth when he pronounced her name. It made her pussy throb again, eager to receive him again, but it also made her heart skip a scared beat -if she was planning on making up a whole new identity, just to get rid of him, it wasn't going to happen. It was more than likely Pedro told him absolutely everything about her, which made her wonder why he didn't use that information to write the full contract. The truth was that her real name slipped Pedro's lips right after they closed the deal, and Jungkook used it to his advantage. He knew that by calling her by her name, she'd let her know she wasn't messing around with an amateur asshole. And that insecurity shining in her eyes let him know he was going in the right direction with her. He also tried to see how trustworthy she was and how much she'd be pushing his limits -even after she knew he was one step ahead.

When Y/n was going to head over the nightstand, Jungkook held her arm and stopped her, redirecting her to the edge of the bed.

—Read it first —he ordered.

Letting her eyebrows crumple, she looked at him confused before she finally decided to sit where he wanted her to be. Reading the part in Spanish, she realized he gave her all the private information she could ever use against him at some point. His full name, his location... everything was there -and he was expecting her to do the right same thing. Except for the fact that the only thing missing was her full name, everything else was already printed on the sheet of paper.

She was so focused -and scared- over the fact that that man knew everything about her after just one hour, she didn't realize Jungkook was getting on his knees in front of her -at least not until he ripped her panties and spread her thighs, making her look down and switch her eyes from the character to him.

—Keep reading —Jungkook commanded.

While she was back to the contract, and lost on the confidential point -and the consequences she could face if she ever thought of spilling things about him, or that contract-, she felt the hairs on her nape rise under the wig when his warm breath hit right against her exposed folds.

She was just getting into the part where it was demanded how she couldn't have any other clients that weren't Jeon Jungkook. It didn't matter how far they were from each other, she just wasn't allowed.

And Y/n was going to complain, but his lips sucked in her clit, making her tighten her fingers on the papers and the sheets -where her other hand was trying to find a stable position.

—Keep reading —he commanded again.

And she did. Only to find herself about to curse him when she realized that any kind of sex -whether it was with a client or a random guy- were totally forbidden for her. He stopped the words slipping her lips, taking her needy button in between his teeth before he went back to sucking and twirling his tongue around it.

She didn't need to hear him saying those two words again, she perfectly knew what Jungkook wanted her to do.

And thank god she did.

She moaned out loud, at the same time she gasped surprised, when one of his fingers slipped in her wet pussy while his mouth was doing wonders to her at the same time she read was she was getting in exchange.

Twenty grand.

Twenty thousand euros a month.

If his tongue was guiding her choice, the quantity he was putting on her body being only his made her clench hard around his finger. And he knew he got her good then.

He moved his finger in and out, moving his tongue faster on her clit just to suddenly stop and interrupt her pleasure with his voice.

—If you sign it, you'll belong to me only —he warned, still moving his finger in and out—. No one can fuck you. No one can touch you.

He didn't say the consequences to her actions, because he knew Y/n would be wary -or maybe she just wouldn't sign the contract at all. He was playing dirty. A finger deep down her cunt, while she was trying to fix her mind with all the money and pleasure she was receiving just at once. And all of it coming from the same man.

Jungkook moved away without a previous warning, licking his index coated with her juices, as he stood back on his feet. The sight of the bulge in his pants stealing the attention from the pile of papers.

She had nothing to lose.

She would be able to pay Jorge's debts, she would be able to pay for Carla's university... With all that money, Y/n would be able to buy a house at the other side of the bridge and live a peaceful life. Only thing she had to do was to pretend she'd actually be only his.

At the end of the day, he would have no way to really know what was going on with her life while he was in Korea.

It was the easiest way she ever got money.

With both hands at both sides of her body, he bent over her body and towered over her, looking into her eyes as if he was trying to read everything he could through them. It was as if he was trying to get to her greedy and dark side.

And it was working. Because one look into his eyes, and Y/n was totally in for whatever he was offering her.

She gulped heavily, and he followed the bulge down her throat. That woman was almost going to be only his.

The contract kept saying the consequences would be up to Jungkook's choice, in case he ever found out she violated his terms. In case he found out. He'd be living in Korea, and if she kept living her lowkey life the way she had been doing until then, there was no way he'd be able to find out anything other than what she allowed him to know.

No tricks on his part. But it didn't mean there would be no tricks on hers.

—I'll sign it —she finally said.

With a sided grin, he stepped back and sat next to her on the bed. Y/n clicked the pen, determined to write her name on every gap, and sign on every page he told her to.

He was her ticket to a better life.

Or so she thought at that moment. Thinking she'd outsmart him was the worst way to overestimate herself. But there was no way she could know that in that exact moment.

—Get dressed and get your things. I'll be waiting for you outside.

Jungkook didn't say much more. He just stood up, took the contract and left the room. She really thought he'd fuck her to close the deal, but instead he vanished behind the door.

Back in the dressing room, there seemed to be no one she could talk to. She found herself picking up her things, and getting dressed with the same clothes she was wearing when she arrived.

Guess she finally knew who was the replacement for.

A black Audi was waiting for her outside the establishment, but no Jungkook was in sight. Just a suited bodyguard that opened the door of the car for her. Back inside though, there he was. Despite being the one paying for her, and making the most to keep her away from other men, he was being distant and indifferent to her presence -always keeping his eyes on the tinted windows.

—What do you exactly want to do to me? —she finally asked.

Confused, Jungkook turned his head at her. There were way too many things he wanted to do to her, and he was making the most of it to control himself at that moment.

—You ask that after signing the contract? —he scoffed— A bit late, don't you think?

—That's not what I meant —she shrugged—. It's not like I have much to lose by agreeing to it —she looked away as well— I'm just curious.

But she never got the reply she wanted from him. Insted, he moved his eyes back to the window, just to hold himself back when a few of her locks fell on her shoulder messily. Just like him, Y/n ended up moving her eyes away as well when she realized she wouldn't be getting any reply from him.

The car stopped after a few minutes, and when she looked up at the sign of the establishment, she went back to look at Jungkook confused. Something he managed to ignore, as he stepped out of the car as soon as the driver opened the door for him.

She wasn't sure what they were doing there at that moment. And how that place was open so late into the night.

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc

[kelyon]

Contract

Before beginning a new BDSM relationship, Belle French and Mr. Gold hammer out their written agreement.

Read on AO3

Belle French sat primly on the edge of one of Mr. Gold’s dining room chairs and read the page in front of her. At the other end of the long table, Mr. Gold also had laid out a collection of papers. Both of them had the same document, but he wasn’t reading his copy. He held the handle of his cane in both hands and looked at her the whole time. 

She felt his eyes on her as she tried to read, which made it impossible to concentrate on the words. Maybe this was a bad idea. Everyone knew not to sign anything without having a lawyer read it first, and that went double for any agreement made with Mr. Gold. All over Storybrooke, he had written contracts that gave him the advantage and left the other person with no options but to do exactly what he wanted. He was a ruthless, heartless son of a bitch, everybody knew that.

But what he had proposed to Belle, what they were now about to negotiate, was an offer too intriguing for her to dismiss. 

The contract wasn’t a legally-binding document, Gold had made that clear. It was just an agreement, an understanding. Before they moved forward with their new relationship, it was important that they both know what to expect. 

Besides, Belle didn’t know any lawyers. Even if she did, she couldn’t imagine asking a legal professional to sign off on the sorts of things she and Gold were talking about doing.

Crossing her ankles under the table, she looked up from the contract. She tapped a clause with the pen Gold had provided. 

“I’m glad this is on the first page,” she said.  “The mutual consent and authority to revoke.”

“Of course,” Gold was quiet. His face didn’t have much expression, but his eyes were fixed on her. “I’m not interested in trapping you, Miss French.”

He really did have lovely eyes. Dark and intense, often cold. What would those eyes be like once Mr. Gold heated up?

“And the renegotiation after a period of thirty days, I like that.”

He shifted in his seat. “I thought it an appropriate interval. Enough time for both of us to get our bearings, then see if anything needs to change. Or if you want the relationship to end after that period, that’s fine too.”

According to the revocation clause, either one of them could walk away at any time. But he had given them a mandatory expiration date. In case she wanted to stop.

“You don’t think you might want to end things after the one-month trial period?”

“No,” he looked into her eyes. “I know what I want, and I know I want it from you. The only question is whether you want the same thing.”

Belle’s face went hot and her pulse jumped up a few beats per minute. “And if we both do want to continue after thirty days?

“We can negotiate for a longer period at that time. Perhaps ninety days, or six months. I also understand if you want to keep it month-to-month.”

“You really are a landlord, aren’t you?”

Gold grinned. “My tenants are bound to a yearly lease. What I’m asking you to undertake is much more serious.”

“Right.” Belle turned over the first page and began to look at the second. “Let’s get into that.”

“Before we do,” he raised one of his long fingers, “I’d like to review the second clause on the first page, about confidentiality.”

Belle flipped back to the first page and looked at it again. “Oh right. What’s a sex contract without a gag order?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Gold sat up straight and looked away, like he was insulted. 

“I mean, I understand,” she said as an apology. “You have a right to privacy. I know this is just making sure I don’t blab your deep dark secrets to everyone in Storybrooke. I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s not that,” he said quietly. He brushed something off of the polished wood tabletop. Probably a bit of dust that wasn’t really there. “My reputation around town is already so besmirched, nothing you might reveal could possibly lower people’s opinions of me. And don’t forget that I chose you for this position, Miss French. You wouldn’t be at this table if I didn’t already have considerable trust in your discretion.”        

“So…?”

“So the confidentiality clause is for your benefit. Your good name doesn’t need to be damaged by any association with me.” 

“The contract mentions developing a ‘mutually agreed-upon cover story.’”

He nodded. “That way you can answer anyone who asks why you might come to my house, or be seen conversing with me in a public setting. I thought you might pretend to be my housekeeper.”

Belle’s lips quirked. His plan made sense. And if she told people she was working for him, that would also explain why she suddenly had more cash than usual--though it would be a very well-paid housekeeper who had the kind of salary Gold was proposing.

“Are you married to the idea of a housekeeper? Could it maybe be something less menial? I mean, if I told my father I was coming over here to clean, he might ask me why I’m not wearing something practical for work. Unless you want me to come over in jeans and an apron?”

Gold shook his head. “No, no. God forbid anything keep you out of skirts and heels, Miss French.”

Belle snorted, and felt her face flush at the same time. Maybe it was silly, considering what they were here to do, but a part of her was still surprised to hear Gold compliment her fashion choices. It forced her to know that he had noticed her. Without her knowing, he had been looking at her, looking at her clothes as well as her character.  Long before he came to her with this offer, he had considered her. He had decided that he wanted her, but he had never told her about it until now. 

She took a breath, and got her thoughts back on track.

“We could say I’m doing clerical work, maybe. Helping you catalog all the antiques?”

“Whatever you like,” he said. “We can decide what the story is later, just so long as we both say the same thing.”

“Sounds good.” 

In the margins of the contract, Belle wrote a reminder to come up with a cover story. That settled, she smacked both hands against the glossy wood tabletop. She did it without thinking, a sort of ‘back to business’ gesture.

At the sound of the impact, Gold’s eyes fluttered shut. His mouth opened, just a little. The reaction was almost a flinch, but there was no fear in it. All of a sudden, the dark room seemed warm and stuffy. 

Belle took a breath. She listened to her heart beating. Then she allowed the moment to pass.

When she looked at Gold again, his face was as expressionless as before.

“Okay,” she said softly. She flipped through the pages, to the meat of the contract. “Now, you understand that I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of dynamic, right? Like, I’ve played with people, but it’s never been anything this formal or this intense. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Educational materials are listed in Appendix A,” Gold said briskly. “Over the years I’ve amassed considerable research on the topics you’ll need to be knowledgeable about in order to perform your duties. I assume you won’t mind reading a book or two on the subject?”

She grinned at him. “I’ve read a book or two, Mr. Gold. My point is that theory isn’t the same as practical, physical knowledge.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I understand that, and I’m more than willing to guide you through your first ‘hands-on’ experiences. Or there are educators listed in the appendix as well. We can call them for one-on-one sessions.”

Her eyes ran down the list of names and phone numbers. She recognized some of the authors and sex educators. “These are all people you know personally?”

“In some cases, quite personally.”

“Huh.” She set down the papers. “I have to say, you seem pretty established in the world of kink, Mr. Gold. What do you need a novice like me for?”

He straightened the cuffs of his suit jacket. “Well, you’re local, for one thing. Confidentiality is a small concern compared with the hassle of driving to Boston several times a week.”

Wait a second--several times a week? Belle flipped over to the clause about frequency. There it was: Three evenings a week, with the option of staying overnight, and at least four eight-hour sessions per month broken up between Saturdays, Sundays, or bank holidays. It wasn’t quite a full-blown 24/7 power exchange, but it was a commitment. Was Gold really going to need her this much? How much pain was it healthy to inflict on a person in one month?

“I’m, um, looking at the section on ‘expectations per session,’” she began. 

“I tried to keep that area open for now. Lots of room to experiment. We can learn how we want to do things. What’s best for us.”

She tried not to notice the lingering satisfaction Gold put on the word us. For all that he had most of the power in this situation--in every situation--Belle knew that he was actually a very lonely man. More than the money, that knowledge had influenced her choice to hear out his offer.

“Right. I just… it’s a lot of time,” Belle said. “I know BDSM scenes can be lengthy, but--”

“Oh, I don’t expect every moment of our time together to be a scene,” he said. “If that’s what you thought, I--I’m glad you brought up your concerns.”

“Okay,” Belle sat back a little in the plush chair. “So a session isn’t a scene, that makes sense. In that case, what is a session? Like, we have a scene and aftercare and what else?”

“I’d like to eat with you.” For the first time, Gold’s eyes weren’t on Belle. He stared at a nondescript spot in the center of the table. It was like this was the first part of their conversation where he didn’t have absolute confidence.

She leaned forward. “Do you want to go out to dinner with me?”

His eyes flashed toward her for just a second, the whites of them a blaze in this dim room. 

“That won’t be necessary.” Gold cleared his throat. “Confidentiality clause.”

The clause he’d set up for her protection, not his own. How much did he really want this to be a secret?

“We wouldn’t have to eat anywhere in Storybrooke. You could take me out of town. Somewhere nicer than a diner.” 

 “Really?”

  It was a whisper, a breath, a half-spoken hope too small and weak to bear the crushing weight of reality. 

Belle waited until Gold dared to look at her again, then she gave him a slow smile. 

“Really.”

Something loosened in him. His posture relaxed by a hundredth of a percent. He wasn’t smiling, but the grim lines around his mouth had softened. 

All these minuscule reactions stirred something in Belle. It was clear to her now that Mr. Gold was wound up tight. If she signed this contract, she would be able to get him to relax.

“What else would you want to do?” she asked. “Like, not strictly BDSM stuff, though I’m sure we can find ways to incorporate the lifestyle into everyday things. I just--I’m getting the impression that you want some non-kink, non-sexual activities with me. What would that look like?”

Gold shrugged. “It could look like anything.”

“So… monster truck rallies?”

He winced at that. Belle snickered at her own joke. 

“If such events are your desire, Miss French, I would appreciate you indulging in them on your own time.”

She snorted. “Sounds good. But seriously?”

“Seriously?” He looked at her for a long moment. “Seriously, I would like to go on dates with you. I’m not much good at dancing and I detest modern movies, but, well… There’s theater, concerts. We could go to museums together. There are some beautiful parks and gardens in Boston that I’ve always wanted to show someone. I have a cabin out by the lake where we could stargaze. I could take you to every bookshop on the Eastern Seaboard.”

“See, if you had started with bookstores, you’d have me for all the kinky fuckery you wanted, no negotiation necessary.”

He shook his head. “That’s why I didn’t start with bookstores, Miss French. I’m not trying to turn your head with luxuries. I want you with your full faculties. Before we do anything, you need to understand what you’re getting into with me.”

The way he said it made it sound like he was secretly a monster. She didn’t think he was. Biting her lip, Belle looked down at the pages of the contract that outlined expected behaviors for the Dominant and Submissive.  

“The whole contract is opt-in, right? We’re doing this like Subway instead of McDonald’s?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Belle couldn’t help but smile. When was the last time Mr. Gold had gone out to a fast food restaurant? She explained the metaphor:

“Some restaurants make your sandwich to order. They have all the ingredients laid out, but they’ll only put on what you specifically ask for. Other places have a standard sandwich and  you have to ask for things not to be on there. You have to tell them you’re allergic to tomatoes or you don’t like mustard or whatever. Sometimes they put up a stink about making a special order. Me personally? I’m a much bigger fan of getting a custom order that gives me exactly what I like and nothing I don’t want.”

“Well, I‘m a fan of giving you what you like, Miss French.”

She could tell. 

“So only things that are in the contract are on the table, right? We won’t be dabbling with, like, age play, pet play, watersports?”

“No.”

He seemed definite, which was fine for Belle. The contract as it was included more than enough kinks to keep them busy, at least until the thirty-day renewal. 

“I’m going to insist on specific negotiations before every scene,” she said. “And that consent can be revoked at any time for any reason. Not just for the contract as a whole, but any particular act or attitude. Even if we’ve done something before, headspaces can change from day to day. Sometimes from minute to minute. This contract is extensive, but no piece of paper can cover every eventuality.” 

Gold shrugged. “The contract as written says everything I want it to. In my opinion, further negotiations won’t be necessary until the mandatory thirty-day renewal. That being said, your opinion on the subject matters. I’m willing to yield to your point.”

“Good.” Belle made a note in the body of the contract. “Specific acts to be negotiated at specific times before the start of each scene.” She set down her pen. “Cause listen, if one of us is having a bad day or is feeling sick or something, I don’t want to be held to the rules of a best-case scenario. You know?”

He nodded. “I understand your point, Miss French. Though I maintain it won’t be necessary.”

“But you’ll abide by the revision?”

“Of course.”

He had better. Especially while they were still learning each other’s tics and moods and limitations. Until they developed an unspoken dynamic, they were going to have to say things out loud, very plainly, every time. It was a matter of safety.

“I don’t see anything about safe words in all this.” She looked up from her pages. “Don’t tell me you’re the type that doesn’t use them?”

For a long minute, Gold didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at her. He just rolled his pen back and forth between his fingers. 

“I understand why someone like you would think safe words are necessary,” he said evenly. “And of course we can add their use into the terms of our deal. However, my motto has always been caveat emptor, let the buyer beware. If someone isn’t willing to be hurt, then why are they engaging in dangerous activities?”

“Because it’s simulated danger.” This should be obvious, especially to someone with as much experience as Gold. “You go to a haunted house to be scared, not to have your limbs torn off by a machete.”

He kept looking away from her. His voice was distant when he spoke. “For some people, the machete is the goal.”

Belle bit her lip. She was going to have to fight him on this, wasn’t she? Fine.

“Safe words are a must,” she said. “For everything. Especially pain. Because this section on pain play is, respectfully, insane. And sanity is another must in my kink.”

Gold made a dismissive face. “It’s not that bad.”

“There’s a sub-section here on wounds requiring stitches.” She held up the paper and pointed at the words. “Is this medical play? Are we trained nurses? Because I am not comfortable with that level of risk. If you’re not willing to back down on some of this, I’m gonna have to walk away.”

He took a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain his iron-clad composure. His thumb rubbed against his first two fingers. His mouth twitched with unspoken words.

 “You have every right to revoke,” he said stiffly. “But I must state my case: For me, this is the heart of the contract. Of the entire relationship. Even more than the sexual components.”

Belle read over his list of desired activities. “Spanking, flogging, even impact play is fine, but burning?” She knew how horrified she must look. “Are you serious about this?”

He waved his hand. “It’s temperature play.”

“I’ve done temperature play. I’ve done wax play. Those are fine. This is something else.”

Gold began to protest, but Belle found another objection.

“What can you even do with a sledgehammer?”

“That’s mostly for intimidation. A haunted house, as you said. BDSM is about bringing participants to the edge of their mental limits as well as physical.”

“But it’s not about hurting people!” Belle blurted it out without thinking, then waved away the obvious counter. “You know what I mean. The point is, I’m not comfortable with this much pain play. Especially three times a week and especially if you’re noncommittal on safe words. I’m not here for edge play, and I want it out of the contract.”

For a moment, Gold scowled. Then he seemed to give up. He gestured towards her pen and she took that as leave to start scratching out parts of the section.

 “Shall we go through it line by line?” he asked. “Or would you rather remove the entire section? We could replace physical pain with the psychological torture of attending amateur comedy shows.”

Despite herself, Belle snorted. You could tell a lot about a man by how he reacted to the word ‘no.’ If Gold was letting her remove a sizable chunk of his favorite kink and he was still able to have a sense of humor about it, that was a good sign. She wanted to do this with Gold, but she wouldn’t play with someone who didn’t respect her limits. 

“I’m just crossing out the stuff that’s too extreme for me.”

“Can we keep knife play?” Gold asked. “I’ve got this dagger I’m quite taken with.”  

“We can cut clothes but not flesh.” Belle wrote that down. “I’m not a complete wimp.”

His face was soft when he looked at her. “No, of course not,” he murmured. “I believe you’re very strong indeed, Miss French.”

Her cheeks went warm again. His confidence in her was flattering and encouraging. She did want to expand her kink experience. Gold seemed like a promising teacher. But they had to take things step by step. They had to build up to the metaphorical machetes and apparently literal sledgehammers. Eventually, both of them would get what they wanted. Both of them would give what they were comfortable giving. That was the whole point of having this conversation before they started.

“We’re using safe words,” Belle insisted. “Check-ins are absolutely mandatory during a pain scene, and tons of aftercare when it’s done.”

“Fine, fine,” Gold muttered as he wrote. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Since we’re on the subject of things I don’t like.” She pointed at the next section. “We need to talk about humiliation and degradation.”

“Don’t you like dirty talk, Miss French?”

“I don’t like the idea of kink being dirty.” She leaned back. “I mean, I respect the transgressive element, the idea that we’re doing what society thinks is filthy and taboo. But I hate the idea that anything is inherently, fundamentally Bad and that we’re Bad People for wanting it.”

“Interesting, considering your revulsion at pain play.”

“That’s about safety,” Belle had to keep herself from snapping. “And it’s about my preferences. If a consenting adult wants to deepthroat a cactus, that’s their prerogative. I just can’t be a part of it for my own reasons. But there’s nothing wrong about doing it or wanting to do it. You know how the saying goes: Your kink is not my kink and that’s okay.” 

“But humiliation…” Gold said. “That’s not okay?”

“In our specific case, public humiliation might interfere with the confidentiality clause. More broadly? I’m not interested in shame. I think kink should be a joyous thing, something you can take pride in. For a lot of people, BDSM scenes are where they feel like their truest selves.”

“Even if your truest self is a worthless, needy slut?”

As self-righteous as she was being, Belle couldn’t deny the red-hot streak of desire that flashed through her when he said those words. He was good at dirty talk. She put her palms on the table and took a breath.

“There’s a difference between playing something and really believing it,” she said. “Sometimes it’s a fine line. Point is, I don’t think anyone is worthless. I don’t think being a slut is a bad thing. And if someone is needy, it means they’re aware enough to know what they need and ask for it. Being brave enough to ask for what you really want--even when everything in the world tells you you’re not supposed to want it--that should be celebrated.” 

From across the table, Gold’s breathing was deep, and a fraction of a second faster than normal.

“Is that what you want from a scene?” he asked. “A celebration?”

“When I’m in a scene, I don’t want anyone to feel bad about themselves.”

He let out a dry laugh. “You may need to temper your expectations, Miss French.”

“No,” Belle said simply. “No, that’s a limit for me. I’m not going to play with degradation.”

Gold opened his mouth, then closed it. “Fine.” He drew a large X over the entire section. “It’s probably for the best.” 

Belle crossed out the text on her copy and moved on to the next section.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have a problem with the list of sex acts. Though there is some stuff on this list that I have not tried before.”

He looked up from the page. His dark eyes were on her, but there was a wariness in his expression. 

“Feel free to eliminate any acts with which you’re not one-hundred percent comfortable,” he said. “If you need to, we can eliminate this section as well. BDSM doesn’t have to be sexual--”

“Nah.” She cut him off. “I mean, yes, of course. BDSM doesn’t have to be sexual. But this is a detailed list, Mr. Gold. You want a lot of these acts, and I think you want them badly. And I’m not opposed, it’s just my inexperience again. Like, anal fisting? Don’t you need equipment for that?” 

“I have equipment,” Gold rubbed his thumb along the handle of his cane. “Really all one needs is lubricant and a willing spirit.”

“Oh I am willing.” Belle’s eyes glazed as she read over the list of orifices expected to be available for penetration, over the descriptions and dimensions of various toys, over phrases like forced chastity and deepthroat training. Hell, just the opportunity to have sex three times a week plus bank holidays was enough to entice her. “I just might need a little patience.”

“I am nothing if not patient, Miss French.”

After a moment’s further reading, Belle looked up from her paper. “The contract seems a little vague on whether or not this has to be part of a scene. Do you want to have sex in our non-BDSM time?”

The clatter of Gold’s cane falling to the ground rang out through the otherwise quiet dining room. Coughing, Gold bent out of his chair to pick it up. He straightened up to gather himself, but didn’t look Belle in the eye. 

“Miss French, I assure you, we can have sex as often and under as many circumstances as you’d like.” 

She snorted. “It’s been a while since my last round of STD tests. And I’ll have to get back on birth control.”

“Do you need me to compensate you for medical expenses?”

“No, I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

Gold picked up his pen. “We should add that to the contract. If you suffer any injuries during our time together, I’ll cover all the costs.”

“Can’t say no to workman’s comp,” Belle agreed as she wrote down the addition. “And all of the equipment listed in Appendix B, that’s all going to be stuff that you’ll buy or that you already own?”

“Yes. As well as any other expenses. Meals, travel, every book on the Eastern Seaboard--you’re not paying for any of that, Miss French.”

Belle tried not to smile too much at the thought of being showered with hardbacks. It was like he was offering to give her an entire library. 

“What about clothes? Do you want me to have a uniform or something? Dress code?”

“Yes.” His voice was thick. “I would dearly love to buy you a complete wardrobe, Miss French. Clothes, shoes, jewelry.” Gold licked his lips. “Lingerie. I could give you a stipend, or--or pick items out for you.”

Now she couldn’t keep herself from grinning. She leaned onto the table. “What would you pick out for me?”

“Skirts and heels seem to be your affinity,” he said with utter confidence. Clearly, he had put some thought into the subject. “Your style is loose and flowing, and that’s lovely for day wear. But I’d like to see you after dark, Miss French. Something risque, something tight. I want to see you wearing clothes that say fuck me.”

Belle swallowed. “Yeah?”

“You know Louboutin, the heels with the red backs? They have a style with a strap across the ankle. Might be a little taller than you’re used to, but I’m sure you can rise to the challenge. If you went out wearing those shoes with a short black dress, everyone who looked at you would want you.”

“And they’d know that I’m going home with you.”

“Yes.”

The word was a whisper, but it was the surest sound Belle had ever heard. Gold kept going.

“There’s a man I know in Boston who makes custom lingerie. He’s an artist with silk and lace, leather and metal. I would give you to him as a canvas, Miss French. I’d pay just to see how he decorates your body. How much beauty he can add to perfection.”

Belle knew her cheeks must be flaming red. The heat of self-consciousness was sharper, more stinging, than the warm glow that had gone through her at various points of the conversation. Being wanted was different than wanting something for herself.  

“Whatever happened to not turning my head with luxury?”

“Oh, I’m not trying to seduce you by giving you what you want,” he said in a low voice. “I’m telling you what I want, Miss French. I want to see the most beautiful woman in the world wearing clothes that are worthy of her. I want you to feel stunning, and powerful, and absolutely adored.”  

“Adored,” Belle breathed. She let the word sink in for a moment. Let it nestle in some hidden sweet spot between her libido and her heart. She locked eyes with Gold. “You want to adore me.”

“Yes,” he said. His gaze didn’t waver for an instant. “What did you say earlier, that kink was a celebration? I want to celebrate you. I want to worship you. I want to push you to your limits and help you realize your full potential as a sexual being. Miss French, I want to transform you. I want to help you become the best version of yourself--confident, radiant, a goddess.”

She couldn’t breathe. Even from across the table, the force of his desire was overwhelming. What he was offering her--he wanted it so much, wanted her to have it so much that she couldn’t keep herself from wanting it too. Forget turning her head with luxuries, he was turning her head just by wanting her.

Belle shook her head to clear it. Gold was still looking at her. His posture hadn’t changed, but his eyes were soft and dark. They were so full of longing--not pleading or demanding but longing--they reminded her of a hero from one of her books. 

Gold’s expression looked like there was a string somewhere under his left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string inside her own small frame--and if that cord was snapped, he had a curious notion he would take to bleeding inwardly. He looked like he had struggled in vain to repress his feelings, but that one word from her would silence him forever. He looked like he was half-agony, half-hope.

 She let out a long breath.

“Let’s move on to the final section.” Belle’s hands shook a little as she flipped to the next page of the contract. “Obedience and protocol.”

“I put a lot of thought into this section,” Gold said.

“I’m sure you did.” The words were flippant, but Belle meant them sincerely. “You put thought into everything, don’t you?”

“Into everything that matters, yes.”

Belle read out loud. “‘The Submissive is to wear a collar at all times during the duration of the relationship. Eye contact is restricted based on the preference of the Dominant. The Submissive is to begin every session kneeling at the Dominant’s feet.’” She looked up. “Are you sure about that? Did you mean to put scene instead of session?”

“I meant what’s written down. Even the most vanilla of dates should include a moment to remember what this dynamic truly is. Call it a sign of devotion.”

“Okay, but kneeling?” She looked at him. “There are other ways to show humility.”

“I like kneeling.”

“Okay.” Belle tapped her pen against the word, but didn’t make a move to alter it. Gold knew his own mind. It would be her task to give him what he wanted. 

She read on about the service and deference that would be required. 

“Foot worship is something new for me. Does that include foot rubs?”

“Oh absolutely,” Gold murmured. “Nothing but the best.”

There was some housework included on the list. Most of it seemed to be more for show than drudgery. Drawing baths, making the bed, keeping the sex toys cleaned and maintained. 

“This item about cooking, is that just dinners we eat together?”

Gold cocked his head. “As opposed to…?” 

“What about packed lunches?” Belle offered. “Definitely breakfast in bed on nights when I’m over here.”

“Would it violate the confidentiality clause to provide snacks to the workplace?”

“Oh that’s brilliant!” Belle wrote it down. “Maybe confidentiality could be maintained via anonymous or third-party delivery. That would turn a box of cookies into a dirty little secret.”

He grinned at her. A new light had entered his eyes.

“This is why I chose you,” he said. “Of course you’re beautiful and good-hearted and brave enough to seriously consider this opportunity, but this is what matters most to me. That you’re creative and collaborative. Our time together will be a true partnership. We will work together to create extraordinary experiences.”

They were silent together for a beat, then Gold cleared his throat. 

“That is, of course, assuming you agree with all the points we’ve discussed today.”

“Oh, I agree.” Belle turned to the last page of the contract, where there were two blank lines for signatures. “There are still some open points that need refining, but overall, I’m very happy to begin our new relationship.”

The pen danced over the paper as Belle signed her name. She pushed herself out of her chair and crossed the table to meet Gold where he sat. He had already signed his copy and was reaching for hers. They made the exchange and then it was done. 

The contract was signed. 

Belle took a breath. Her heart was fluttering. Gold looked like he had woken from a dream just to find that the dream was still happening.

“Well,” Belle said. “Do we want to count today as our first session? We’d still have plenty of time to do a scene. Or just fuck.”

“Whatever you like,” Gold said, a little breathlessly. He was staring into the middle distance, shell-shocked. “You’re in charge.”

“Now, now.” Gently, Belle reached out and brought her hand to his face. She held his chin and forced him to look at her. “You know that’s not true. Submissives have the real power.”

“I want you to have the power now,” he whispered. 

A wide smile grew across Belle’s face. It was one thing to top strangers at play parties in the dungeon in Boston. It was something altogether different to have Mr. Gold shaking like a leaf under her touch.

“In that case,” she said firmly. “The contract states that you have to start every session on your knees.”

“Yes,” Gold whispered. He slid out of his chair, used his cane to support himself as he got into position to kneel at Belle’s feet. For the first time that evening--possibly for the first time in a long time--Mr. Gold beamed. “Yes, Mistress.”

[resi4skz]

CHAPTER 7

Pairing: idol!Chan x Rebecca Greywood (OC)

Warnings: none for this chapter

This is purely fiction!

Cover by: @3rachasdomesticbanana

After the first concert, many concerts came along with it. Two months after the first, they started their first world tour and I had to go with them to all. There were only 1-2 months between that we got to come home but even then, the boys were busy making songs and practicing new choreography for their next album Go Live.

They all even changed their hair color. While 4-5/8 stayed a darker color, the others started off with vivid colors then turned to darker colors. Chan started with green and pink which ended up with black with red streaks on the front. It was a differnt look on all of them, espeically Chan. Personally, darker hair suited him best. It brought out his facial features more. As I was applying concealer under his eyes, he opened his eyes as if to say something. "Ah, sorry. Did I press too hard?"

"No. I had been meaning to tell you about the suggestion you told me about months ago. For my hands."

"Oh?" I resumed applying the concealer, covering his dark circles.

"I used a hand lotion and my hand had never been so smooth," he replies.

"Oh, I'm glad it worked out with you," I smile as my phone chimes for the 20th time today. Annoyed, I completely shut it off and put on the counter.

"Trouble in paradise?" Chan asks, his eyes following my every move as I set his under eyes with face powder.

"It's nothing," I lie.

But it wasn't a lie. For the past few days, dad had been trying to get in touch with me via email and now my phone has been ringing nonstop. I still don't know how he got a hold of my new phone number but considering how he snoops around, I wouldn't be surprised if that's how he got it. And honestly, I didn't have time for that kind of stress. I finish his face with makeup spray. "Done."

"Thanks," he smiles and leaves. Their performance went smoothly and when they were done, they packed up and left to do the rest of their schedules.

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

It was Sunday and I was getting annoyed at my phone for constantly ringing. "Oh for the love of god, pick up your phone!" Luna yells coming out from her room. I ignore her as my phone goes silent before my email notifications sound goes off. She sighs and picks up my phone. I hear her gasp and I look at her, confused.

"What is it?" I ask. She gives me my phone, sitting down beside me. I look down at my phone. It's an email from my dad's lawyer.

To Ms. Rebecca Greywood,

I hope this email finds you as your father has tried to get in contact with you many time regarding a confidential agreement. Below is the form that has been signed by your father, it just needs your signature to make it official. Please keep in mind that I'm only doing my job and I tried my best to make your dad re-think his options but he was adamant about this. Please forgive me.

Regards,

Tim

I click on the document. "What the fuck?" He disowned me? That motherfucker disowned his only biological daughter? I feel my vision start to blur but I wipe my cheeks and look at Luna, who's surprised to see me cry. "My dad disowned me."

Her face softens as she hugs me. "Oh, Becca. I'm so sorry."

"I mean," I say, wiping my cheeks. "Who does that? To his own daughter."

"I know, honey. I know," she rubs my arms consoling me. "Let it out, I'm right here."

I angrily wipe my face. "No! I will not cry over a man who never once in his life saw me as his daughter. Who never told me he loved me. Never told me to have a good day. Never told me that it's okay to fail because failure wasn't a choice for him. I will not waste a second over a father who never even tried to contact ever since I've moved across countries and this," I point to my phone, "this is how he repays me." I write my signature on the document and send it back to Tim. "There. Now he can be happy with his life with his mistress and her son."

Luna opens her mouth to say something but I stomp my way into my room, shutting the door with a bang. Hours go by, I lay in bed, with the blanket over me as I stare at the ceiling. Why do I feel like crying when I swore to myself that I would never cry over a father who never wanted me in the first place?

But I did. I cried myself to sleep that night.

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

Over the next few weeks, I work like a zombie with little to no breaks. Even Luna told me a few times to take it easy. But my my mind was on overdrive. I just wanted to not think about anything else and that's why I indulged myself in work. And whenever I had free time, I was in the gym. It kind of helped though because I gained more muscle which made my arms more toned. I even lost a couple of pounds ehich wasn't great for my wardrobe though.

I was applying Felix's foundation base very carefully when Han excitedly comes to me. "Noona! We're going to practice later, do you want to come and watch?"

"That's so sweet of you to ask, Hannie but I'm pretty busy." At this point, I was just making up excuses.

"Oh come on, noona. Just come and watch. We really want you to come," Felix says. "It'll be fun!"

I watch their expression turn into a pout. Good lord these boys. Sighing, I nod. "Fine. I'll come." I chuckle at their little victory dance.

*CHAN'S POV*

I changed into sweats and headed down to the dance room. But when I opened the door, I was greeted by the guys already inside goofing around. And then I saw her. She was laughing at something Han and Binnie were saying to her. The same pain comes back in my chest and then she looks my way, and suddenly it's hard to breathe. I cough it out which makes the others look at me.

"Oh good, Channie hyung is here. We can start the practice," Hyunjin announces.

I watch as she sits at the very back. "Is she going to watch us dance?" I ask as I walk over to Felix.

"Oh yeah, Han and I asked her," he replies. "Hope that's okay with you, hyung?" I nod my approval.

The boys and I get in positions for 'God's Menu' and wait for the music to start. Through the mirror, I watch as she watches our every move with the song blasting in the room. When the song ends, I point out the errors and we start again. After about the third time, we were halfway through the song when she suddenly gets up, startling us and runs out the room. I.N. cuts the song and we look at each other like we did something wrong that made.jer run out.

"Is she okay?" Leeknow asks.

"Should we go after her?" Han asks.

"You guys stay here," I say as I sprint after her. I glance around the hallways and empty rooms. "Becca?" I peek inside an empty studio and spot her sitting in a corner. "Becca? Gwenchana?" When she looks up, my chest hurts but this was different pain than before. I crouch down to her level. "What's wrong? Did we do something to upset? If so, I'll apologize."

"No, it's not you guys," she replies, sniffling. "Watching you guys dance just reminded me of the past." More tears roll down her cheeks. "It reminded me of the times I was the happiest."

"Please don't cry." I suddenly felt helpless. I wanted her to stop crying.

"My dad disowned me." She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie.

"What?"

"Oh yeah. I even signed the papers and everything to make it official," she replies.

And then she tells me everything. From the moment how she wanted to audition to JYPE to the point where her dad put the USB in the water. She told me she was a med student before becoming a MUA. She told me everything about her dad marrying his mistress and becoming a step sister. And she told me about Patricia, her stepmom who wanted Becca out of their lives for good ever since her dad made her and her step-son move in. She spilled her heart out to me and I let her because I saw how much pain it gave her for keeping it all in.

By the end of her telling me, I watch her visibly relax. "Feeling better?"

She nods, chuckling. "Yes. Thank you. I don't know why I just told you everything."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I was here. The guys are probably wondering where we are though."

"They must be so worried!" She gasps.

I chuckle. "It's okay. They're probably just goofing around."

She giggles and my heart skips a beat. I seriously thtink something is wrong with it. "Thank you, Chan. Really. I had been working non stop for the past few weeks and telling you everything felt like a huge weight lifted over my shoulders."

"Well, I'm glad you told me. The guys actually noticed that you weren't yourself lately."

"I'm sorry." Why is she apologizing?

"Hey," I grab her hand, squeezing it and she looks at me. "Don't apologize for something that's not even your fault. Just keep your head high and focus on what you want, yeah?"

She gives me a soft smile. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"How do you know what to say and make the others feel better?" She asks.

Chuckling, I stand up and offer her my hand. "People tend to forget that I've been in the industry before I even debuted with the boys." She takes my hands, standing up. "I had to toughen up in order to focus on what I wanted and needed."

She smiles, sniffling. "Kudos to you, Channie." She gasps and I laugh. Only the boys call me by that name but hearing it from her was kind of refreshing actually.

"It's okay. You can call me that," I reply. And when I tell you the ways her eyes lit up, it was was like a kid given candy for the first time. It was adorable.

"Ah! The guys must be worried!" She exclaims but I stop her running.

"It's okay. I texted them after I found you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," I smile as I lead her out to the hallway. "You good by yourself to go home?" She nods. "If anything, you have my number so don't hesitate to use it, even if it's for a quick chat."

"Yeah. Thanks again."

"No problem," I reply. "I really should get going before they all come looking for me. See you at work?"

She nods, smiling. For some reason, knowing she's feeling better made me feel at ease. "See you at work."

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

*BECCA'S POV*

As soon as I enter the apartment, Luna comes running enveloping me in hug. "Whoa whoa, what is this?"

She stands back. "I thought you'd be sad? Wait," She examines me from head to toe. "You cried but you look....happy?"

I roll my eyes, as I walk in the kitchen. "Okay. I need names. Spill."

"Why are you assuming there are names?" I ask, pouring water in a glass.

"Rebecca Greywood, you have been miserable for the past few months and suddenly you're in high spirits? No. That doesn't happen unless there's someone involved," she replies. "Or unless a certain blonde haired australian boy confessed?"

I choke on water and cough. "What the fuck?"

"He confessed?!"

"For the millionth time, no! It's not like that!" I groan, setting the glass down. "We just talked."

"And?"

"And I told him everything," I reply.

She blinks at me. "Everything?"

I nod. "Everything."

She goes quiet for a second before saying, "Well, shit. If that ain't the cutest thing I've heard today."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This woman needs a hobby. Or a boyfriend. I start walking towards my room. "Rebecca and Chan sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-" I shut my bedroom door and close my eyes. Sheesh.

I quickly change into comfy pjs and take off my makeup before finally settling in bed. I was suddenly so sleepy. As I close my eyes, my phone chimes. "Ugh, who is it at this time?" I grab it and my lockscreen pops up with Chan's name on it. Clicking it open, I smile at his message.

C: i hope you got home okay?

R: yes, currently laying in bed to sleep.

C: glad to hear :)

R: thank you for today, i dont know what i wouldve done if it wasnt for you to show up like that

C: dont be too hard on yourself. just keep your head held high and aim for what you want

R: aye aye captain

C: lol its good to see you like this, becca. the boys and i were starting to get worried.

R: im sorry for making all of you worry. i just had a lot on my mind and didnt wanna talk about it

C: im glad you told me. im also glad you let that frustration out. next time come to me if something bothers you

My heart starts beating faster at his text. Why is he being nice to me?

R: just you?

C: yeah, wae? Shireo?

R: oh now the korean comes out?

C: ;) goodnight becca

R: goodnight, channie

Smiling I put my phone back on charging. I sigh as I finally close my eyes and fall asleep faster than I have before. I dreamed of flowers and sunshine. And among the flowers and sunshine was the man who listened to my problems and never said a thing about it to me. I dreamed of him smiling and laughing.

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Author's note: this fanfic won't have nfsw scenes. It's going to be on the sweet and cuter side. I'm not going to make them get together till much much much later.

Text & Korean romanization legend:

C = Chan

R = Rebecca

Gwenchana = are you okay/alright?

Wae = why?

Shireo = don't like it?

Hyung = older bro

Noona = older sis

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - The Fall of the House of Usher II

In this episode, it quickly becomes clear that Roderick Usher isn't as sharp as he might have once seemed. At the same time, a mysterious woman is introduced—she’s appeared before, but oddly always in different forms.

The focus, however, is on Perry, who has been rejected by his father and aunt when he pitched what he believed to be a brilliant idea for a club. At first, their harsh response seems unfair, because from a distance, Perry's idea, though elitist, flashy, and a bit perverse, somehow fits. You’re left wondering why they dismissed him so brutally.

As the Usher family's story unfolds, you start to understand the reasoning behind this rejection, even though Roderick has already told Perry straight to his face. Either you change the world or your idea goes straight to the trash—anything less is unworthy of an Usher. Is this the secret to the family's success?

We also learn in this episode that there’s a mole in the legal case against the Ushers, led by Auguste Dupin, who is leaking information to the prosecution. Naturally, the Ushers won't stand for this. Their lawyer, Pym, immediately drafts new confidentiality agreements, which all family members and their partners must sign. This plot line alone is powerful, showing both how the Ushers operate and the wealth they use to protect themselves.

As for the mole, I have a theory, but I'll wait until I have more evidence. Now, back to Perry!

Determined to prove his father wrong, Perry throws an extravagant, orgy-like party. But just as he aims high, he falls just as hard—poor Icarus, metaphorically speaking. It fits perfectly with what happens: while the acid may have physically killed him, it was his hubris and ego that were the real culprits. Too bad for him that his brother’s wife, the person he was trying to get back at, survives, and I’m sure her story isn’t over yet.

I like how this episode focuses on Perry, while still giving us glimpses of the others—there's some crazy stuff happening, but it’s not shoved in your face. That’ll sure come later, but for now, we’re just getting small bites. The scenes with Auguste, Roderick, and Madeline working in the basement add even more intrigue.

Another aspect I appreciate is the deeper exploration of Roderick and Madeline’s past—how they became such a powerful family and built their wealth. The way this is woven into the present-day storyline adds the right amount of context just when it’s needed.

The episode also touches on the painkiller Ligadone, its supposed side effects, and how addictive it can be. I wonder if this is another reference to the opioid crisis in the U.S., where drugs like Oxycodone and Fentanyl have caused widespread addiction.

Many doors have been opened, and I’m eager to see what paths, obstacles, and dark secrets lie behind them. I’m also hoping we’ll learn more about the mysterious woman, who keeps appearing in different forms.

I’d love to see the visuals continue to evolve—the series' style, especially how it portrays different time periods, is something I really enjoy. On the surface, it might seem lavish and exaggerated, but when you look closer, you find something distinctly Edgar Allan Poe-like. I wish more shows would dare to take these kinds of creative risks.