#she sent me an email like glad that thing with the site was worked out. you should download your work and submit it

[bookwyrminspiration]

guess who had to send. an email. i'm so composed. SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCR--

[life-with-my-three]

A few weeks back we went to change Harriet’s feeding tube button. It’s a six monthly task, and simple enough. You deflate the balloon holding it in, take it out, put the new one in, and inflate the balloon.

In true Harriet style she threw in some big curveballs for the “simple” task. We got the old one out, but could not get the new one to go in through her abdomen. With the stoma (artificial opening) it starts closing really quickly if you can’t get it in. Quick dash to local emergency who put a temporary stent in to allow us to drive to Melbourne. Kids hospital were able to get a new tube in but it was a different type and not really ideal for an active 3yo. It took laughing gas and 4 adults holding her down screaming though.

Emails sent come the working week, as of course this happened on a weekend. Her gastro department, made an appointment for last Wednesday to change back to her normal tube. We weren’t told if they wanted her fasted, so we played it safe and fasted her. Left home at 6am to get to her 9am appt on time. When we were 45 minutes over her appointment time we asked at reception if she was able to eat as she kept saying she was hungry. They went and “checked” said she was fine to eat. She had literally 3 bites before we were taken through. Doctor saw her with food and said they would have to cancel the change as she had to have fasted. Glad we drove 2.5hours for that. They managed to fit her in for the afternoon, but it meant being fasted and she had, had 3 bites of food since the night before.

The procedure was 5 adults restraining Hatt. Her screaming and hyperventilating and trying to get the laughing gas off. I feel like the worst mum having to do this. I’m traumatised buy watching her experience this. She’s 3. It must be so much worse for her.

They got the tube in though. She could eat. We drove home. All was good.

Thursday was our “rest day”. We had more appts at the kids hospital scheduled for Friday. I went to the bathroom at 8am Thursday and heard Aaron yell out. The balloon that held the tube in had burst and tube came out. Lucy had immunisation and health nurse at home. So Aaron stayed home with her, I put Hatt in the car and we drove straight to the kids hospital.

They put laughing gas on her and another procedure of multiple adults holding her down whilst she screamed. This time they could not get the tube in. They tried for 30minutes. They maxed out on all the sedation they could give her in a ward environment for the procedure. She therefore had to go into theatre.

What was supposed to be a 5-10 minute procedure in theatre wasn’t. Half an hour in I got a call from the surgeon telling me it was much, much more complicated than thought. They were wanting my consent to do scopes and a few other things. What was said to be a short procedure and then home, made the surgeons book a ward bed. Harriet was in theatre for 2 hours. They managed to get a much smaller sized tube in, but it’s still in. She is also going to need another surgery in the coming months to resite her whole PEG site.

Hatt won’t let anywhere near her stomach. Which is fair. It was traumatising. So very traumatising. It’s making self care tasks like dressing, toileting, PEG needs so fucking hard though.

I feel like the worst mum ever. The first words she said to me after this whole saga though were “I love you so much mummy” as she threw her arms around me. She has said that same sentence so, so many times spontaneously over the weekend also. Trying to remember them.

[thecraftyfoxthewriterscorner]

Q&A with Jacqui Culler

✨A short interview with my RevPit 2024 winner!

Hey Story Crafters,

As summer starts winding down (I know the last official day of summer is in September, but years of public school has trained me to think of Labor Day as the end of summer), I want to take the opportunity to reflect a little more on one of the bigger writing-editing events I participated in this year: RevPit 2024.

I honestly hadn’t heard of RevPit before a couple of years ago, when a board member reached out to ask if I’d like to participate as a RevPit editor. I said yes, completed the sample materials and sent them to the RevPit board, they extended an invitation for me to be a RevPit editor, and…life happened, preventing me from participating in RevPit that year. Thankfully, the board said I could still participate the following year, and I was able to serve as a first-time RevPit editor this year.

And I’m so glad I did! I’m happy I was able to interact with my fellow RevPit editors and the RevPit community through the 10Queries events on Reddit, to share the love of writing, reading, and a little of my editing expertise. Though it isn’t possible to offer a full developmental edit for free more than once a year, I’m happy I was able to do so through an event like RevPit. And I’m really glad I found a RevPit winner who was a good fit for my communication style (email only!), in addition to being a talented writer open to receiving feedback.

Which brings us to the main event of this post…

Jacqui (@CullerPictures) wears quite a few hats: she’s a YA fantasy author, works in the film industry, and also freelances as a graphic designer. She agreed to answer some questions about why she decided to enter RevPit.

You can still view Jacqui’s RevPit Showcase materials on the RevPit site: https://reviseresub.com/showcase/capers-crowns-and-thieves

1. Before deciding to enter RevPit, what was your editing process?

Before entering RevPit, my editing process had a few steps after finishing a first draft. I’d go back through the manuscript and do my own version of a developmental edit, checking where the major plot points happened and writing breakdowns for every chapter. That would help me figure out if certain scenes were truly needed, if some could be combined, and if others needed to be beefed up.

Then I’d go through and do a line edit to clean up the writing and try to get the word count down. After that, I’d read the whole thing out loud to listen to the flow of wording and dialogue and make edits while doing so.

Finally, I’d try to give the whole thing a rest for a few weeks and then give it another read-through with fresher eyes to hopefully catch any typos and story slipups.

2. Why did you choose to enter RevPit?

I had actually entered RevPit twice before with a different manuscript, and this was my third time entering. I’ve followed Revise & Resub for a few years and I love the community they’ve created online.

When I entered this year, I did so not expecting much, but I figured why not try? I was very pleasantly surprised when I got the email that said I was a winner!

3. What qualities were you looking for in your RevPit editor?

I read the profiles for all the editors that fit my genre and looked for the ones that I thought I would enjoy working with. I wanted an editor who specialized in fantasy and would tell me what was working as much as what wasn’t, as well as someone who would be encouraging along the way. Leah was all those things and more, and I’m so lucky she chose me as her winner!

4. Did you have expectations going into RevPit? If so, what were they, and how were they met?

After finding out I won, I hoped my manuscript would come out the other end being the strongest version of this story it could be. I suspected that meant ripping it apart and piecing it back together, but I was open to major changes and just excited to have Leah’s eyes on it.

Luckily, there wasn’t that much ripping involved! There were still changes I had to make, but I felt like each one worked toward that goal of telling the best story I could.

5. What did you learn about yourself as a writer from RevPit?

I learned to have a little more confidence in myself as a writer! I was prepared to face some hard truths about my writing and storytelling when I got my edit letter, and I remember the biggest thing I was surprised about was how much I’d done right!

That edit letter and this whole RevPit experience have given me a huge boost of confidence, not only in my writing abilities but also in my ability to be able to talk about my writing and what I’m working on, which is something I’ve been very shy about in the past.

6. How has your querying journey been so far?

From the RevPit Showcase, I got interest from three agents, and two of the three requested to see more of my manuscript. One was a full request and the other was a partial, and I’m currently waiting to hear back from them.

I think a huge reason why I got interest was due to how much Leah helped with my opening pages and my query letter, making sure the stakes were clear and that it hinted at the major theme of the story. I’m still sending out queries to more agents, just to cast the net a bit wider, but fingers crossed I’ll get that yes soon!

Additionally, Jacqui was kind enough to share her thoughts about working with me!

1. Did you have any concerns about working with me on your project? If so, did your concerns turn out to be true? If not, what happened instead?

When I found out I was going to get to work with Leah through Revise & Resub’s annual RevPit contest, I did zoomies around my apartment, I was so excited to work with her! It was obvious from our first communication that Leah is not only kind and professional, but 100% knows what she’s doing.

Every single word of her feedback shows how thoughtful, intelligent, and insightful she is, and that she truly wants to make your work shine. Whenever I received feedback from her, I couldn’t wait to read it because I knew her insight would help me see my story in a whole new light. My experience working with her was even better than I had hoped for, and it makes me feel incredibly lucky and grateful that she chose me as her RevPit winner.

2. What did you enjoy most about working with me? Were you pleasantly surprised at any point of the process?

I enjoyed every aspect of working with Leah, and I can’t recommend her enough. When I read through her comments on my manuscript, it was almost like I was sitting right there with her as she read it. The feedback was so insightful, encouraging (not to mention fun to read!), and each one lit up my brain with ideas of what I could do to strengthen my story.

She showed me how a reader might interpret those aspects of a story that are so easy to overlook as the person who wrote it and made enormously helpful suggestions on how to address them. From minor notes like a pesky door that I kept forgetting only opens one way, to bigger picture suggestions like making a character’s motivations much clearer, Leah got me examining every scene, every dialogue exchange, every room layout—all aspects of my manuscript—to ensure they were all working together like I intended.

3. If you recommended my editing services to a close friend, how would you explain the reasons they should hire me?

Leah can not only pinpoint what part of your manuscript or query is or isn’t working, but she can tell you exactly why. Before I started working with her, I had revised my manuscript so many times, I’d hit a wall and was fresh out of ideas on how to make it better.

After Leah sent my editorial letter, it was almost like it made my story new for me again. Every suggestion she made on my manuscript and query letter helped me either build on what was working or put me on the path to making it better. The process of working with Leah breathed new life into my story—and me as a writer.

4. What are 3 words you would use to describe your experience working with me, or my editing style?

Encouraging – Leah told me what was working and what I did well as much as what could be improved on, which gave me a huge boost of confidence. As a writer, you want to tell the best story you can and you want to feel confident that you can do that. With Leah’s encouragement I received both, and I can’t thank her enough.

Thorough – Reading through my edit letter and the Developmental Editing Tracking Sheet Leah created, I could tell she combed through every inch of my manuscript to the point that it felt like she knew the story just as well as I did—and sometimes even better! She posed questions about my setting, character motivations, and story timeline that hadn’t even occurred to me that I needed to answer.

Invaluable – Having Leah’s eyes on my manuscript and her editing talent in my corner has been invaluable. During the time I’ve worked with her, I feel like my storytelling has become stronger, and the way I think about how to construct a scene, build a setting, and develop character relationships has strengthened my writing.  

5. Have you ever hired a freelance editor before? If you have, how has your experience working with me been different?

While I haven’t worked with an editor before, I can’t imagine a better experience than working with Leah. She went above and beyond to make my manuscript shine, and because of her, it’s now better than I could have possibly made it on my own.

View Jacqui's RevPit 2024 Showcase!

Next time, I’ll review what you as an author can expect from a developmental edit from me—with a few examples!

If you’ve got a finished manuscript and Jacqui’s experience working with me has you interested in my services, please visit my website or send me an email! I’m interested in hearing from fantasy, sci-fi, and horror authors, but I’m open to working with any genre if the author-editor fit is good.

Visit The Crafty Fox Editing Services!

Send me an email!

Until next time!

Best,

Leah

Connect with me on social media!

Interested in learning more about me, and the kind of energy I’ll bring to a author-editor relationship? Subscribe to this newsletter (it’s free!).

Substack Post: https://thecraftyfoxwriterscorner.substack.com/p/q-and-a-with-jacqui-culler

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.24

What She’s Done

05/19/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader         Word Count: 5,590

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, Loki being the best bro, pregnancy problems

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late. I’m not going to explain too much as I want the focus to be on the chapter but I’m feeling better. Hope you all enjoy this one and I hope you can forgive me. haha As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my work on any other sites or blogs!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The sound of the fanfare outside is muted. The heavy doors of the main room are shut.

Thor sits on his large steel, silver, and wooden throne. Normally, your own throne would have been moved into the room so that you could sit beside him. Today however, he wants you standing.

Loki stands on Thor’s left, his hands moving across his tablet at godly speeds. He’s busy. Always busy. While Thor has the final say, Loki sets everything up for him and comes to him with the choices that must be made.

He’s indispensable and both you and Thor know it. So, when the large doors are thrown open and Thor takes his hand off of your lower waist where he’d been massaging the knots away, as Ambassador Coates walks forward, you glare right at him and his judging distrustful look at the sight of Asgard’s Prince.

The music outside, large horns that sound more like a call to battle, slowly die and are completely cut off when the doors are shut. Just outside you know two Valkyrie are standing guard.

Inside, two more regular guards stand at attention.

“Ambassador Coates, I’m glad you saw fit to accept my invitation,” Thor says casually.

One wouldn’t know that Thor is angry. He sounds so welcoming. The charm he’s exuding is one you’ve never seen him use before but Loki doesn’t seem surprised by it. Instead, Loki’s lips seem to curve upwards a little in the teeniest smirk.

The Ambassador does as he’s expected and once he’s near the foot of the raised wooden floor where Thor’s throne sits, he gives a quick bow meeting first Thor’s singular eye and then your own blank gaze.

Keeping your anger in check is easy. You’re able to wipe your face of all emotion and it’s a skill now that you’re glad you learned in the orphanage you’d grown up in. Never letting anyone know how sad or hurt you are was key to your survival.

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador states, the irritation in his voice loud and clear for all of you to hear.

It looks like Thor’s plan to roll out the red carpet as if the ambassador were visiting royalty got his message across clearly.

“I hope I find you in good health? Are you faring well with the pregnancy?”

You don’t answer him. You simply stare.

“We’re well enough,” Thor begins. “Forgive me in my haste to get to the point, Ambassador Coates but as I hear it from my brother, you have been making it very difficult for Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard to meet with you, despite her warnings that what she had to share was imperative to the safety of Earth and human-kind.”

The ambassador blinks. He doesn’t attempt to speak or react in any other way than to show that he’s processing Thor’s words. All signs of irritation at his welcome gone.

“Would you say that is a fair statement for her having sent, what was it? Four emails and three phone calls?” Thor asks Loki.

“Seven emails and four phone calls,” he corrects.

“Right. Seven and four.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I think you have been under the impression that my marriage to my wife has been one in name only. She’s Queen but not really? Right? She has no power or authority? Is that what you think?”

Ambassador Coates swallows hard, sweat beading along his temples. He’s not a stout man. In fact, most women would think him good looking. Nothing to Thor or Loki, but for a human he’s handsome. His sweating in this climate makes no sense unless he’s suddenly stressed.

Maybe you shouldn’t feel bad but you do just a bit. You can’t imagine what he must feel being scrutinized by Thor, yourself, and Loki. Clearly he did something wrong and now he knows it.

“Your Majesties, I-I meant no offense. Unfortunately this is a busy time for myself and my colleagues and-”

“We have no time for your excuses,” Thor sits up straighter and draws his legs a little closer together before he licks his lips and holds his hand out towards you.

Taking it, you watch him get up and then he helps you sit before checking on you, “Better, cherub?”

You nod, looking up at him as he caresses the side of your head.

“The only reason you hold the job that you currently do is because my people and I chose to settle on Earth. You might say you owe it to us. Perhaps you’d still have been employed should we not have come here but from what I understand, your salary is considerably more than what it would have been were you in some other position.

“You are married and have children, too. Don’t you?” Thor asks.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“So, it’s important to keep your job. Isn’t it?”

He says nothing, this time simply looking down at Thor’s feet.

“My wife is not just Queen in name but she has been exemplary in her devotion of ruling the people of Asgard at my side with honor and grace. The people love her. I’m not sure what made you think you could slight an Asgardian Queen but let me be clear. If our people should find out that there was such disrespect, believe me when I tell you that the loss of your job would be the last thing you’d have to worry about.”

“And just to be clear,” Loki cuts in as Thor’s taking a breath. “My brother is not threatening you. This is a statement of fact. We Asgardians are fiercely loyal and easily offended.”

You like that Ambassador Coates isn’t glaring at Loki anymore. The fear in his eyes is worrying, but you also know that your husband and brother would do nothing to actually hurt this idiot. They’re just making sure he knows where he stands.

Thor crosses his large arms across his wide chest. Though you don’t think he means it to be intimidating, you can see from the ambassador’s gulp that Thor’s minor flex has great impact.

Gods, he’s huge.

“As it just so happens, aside from being a Queen without fault to this kingdom, the Queen of Asgard has seen fit to continue to perform in her duties as the bridge between our two peoples. She refuses to let us make decisions for the human race and was attempting to contact you to warn you of impending dangers. And you, what was the phrase, love?”

“Blew me off.”

“That’s right, you blew her off. And yet we welcome you with respect and grace.”

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador begins, but Thor holds up his hand and he stops.

“Let this be a lesson in humility for you. I love Earth and for that reason alone, in addition to the fact that this is my wife’s home and now mine, we will forgive this lapse of judgement on your part,” you’ve never heard Thor sound more like a King than in this moment.

It’s also one of those moments where you really want to drag him back to the room and get him naked. He’s never been this attractive.

The ambassador bows his head, taking his punishment with dignity.

“Forgive me, your Majesties,” he begins to say something, but then stops himself.

“Speak your mind, Ambassador Coates,” Loki urges, seeing something you and Thor don’t.

“I merely wish to apologize for my lack of forethought. I was not the only one dismissing Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard but will be sure to rectify the behavior with my colleagues when I return.”

Loki smiles, turning his gentle gaze on you as he realizes that you were right. It wasn’t misogyny. Not on Ambassador Coates’s part. That might not be the case for everyone though.

“Perhaps I should schedule meetings with your colleagues so that we might have a quick talk about the expectations we have for our relationship going forward?”

Loki’s threat is veiled heavily, but Ambassador Coates still picks up on it and his face goes a little pale.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Highness. I will pass along the sentiments, if you will let me.”

There’s a burning satisfaction in your chest. Something about watching Ambassador Coates finally show not just you but Loki the respect he deserves makes you so happy.

“My Queen?” Loki prompts you, looking to you to wait for your reply.

“I think we can give him a chance to express our disappointment for us. He is our ambassador. Isn’t that right Ambassador Coates?”

Coates looks relieved, pressing his hand to his chest as he bows his head to you again.

It’s a strange sensation to see the gratitude on his face and his posture relaxes as a result. You literally just did that. You gave him some forgiveness and it really does make all the difference.

“I will support you and the Asgardian throne with more fervor from here on out, Your Majesty.”

“Cool,” you shrug, reaching to place your hand on the back of Thor’s neck, absolutely beaming at him.

He chuckles and puts his hand back on your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze and shake.

“Are you happy, my cherub?”

You nod, unable to contain the smile that stretches across your lips and you lean into him.

“Good. My job here is done then. Now, I have some things to do,” Thor rises and moves around until he’s facing you and pulls you up into a chaste but loving kiss.

With a caress to your belly, he looks at Loki and nods.

“I’ll leave the rest to you and my Queen, brother.”

“Sif will meet you by the docks,” Loki nods.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you later, love. If you need me, just tell Loki and I will come running.”

“‘Kay,” you smile.

Thor turns back to your guest and moves towards him, clapping his shoulder as he passes, “Do better, Ambassador Coates. Do better.”

All three of you watch Thor strut for the large front doors. The guard opens it for him and when he’s out of sight, the doors shutting behind him, you move to take your seat on the throne. Loki scoots a little closer to your side but stands with his tablet ready.

“Now, I think we should get down to the reason I wanted to meet with you,” you start and Ambassador Coates stands a little straighter. “But...I don’t know about you but this whole towering over you sitting on a throne thing is not really my style and feels a little forced. Let’s go to my sitting room.”

Loki smirks as Ambassador Coates relaxes a little more and even smiles, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the three of you walk up the steps to the right of the throne room to climb up to the small sitting room that had been set aside for you and your private entertaining, you steal a few glances at Ambassador Coates.

He still looks a little rattled and you stroke your stomach, the long silk dress you’re wearing, ruffled skirt and loose waist giving it a soft flowing quality is still noticeable and Ambassador Coates steals a few glances.

“Didn’t think I was really pregnant?”

He blanches, “What? N-No, Your Majesty! I had no reason to doubt you.”

“It’s okay. A lot of people didn’t believe it until I came back from my little vacation. I just wanted to make sure that it would take. We’re all so dependent on this little one and a lot is riding on my having Thor’s heir quickly.”

“No one who has seen you rule since your marriage would doubt your commitment to this union, Y/N,” Loki assures you gently.

He’s your number one supporter and you’re so damn grateful for him.

All three of you fall into silence but with your heavy belly and your slow walk, it stretches on.

“I’m sorry about Thor’s enthusiasm to put you in your place,” you give Coates a small apologetic smile but he quickly shakes his head. “He can be a little passionate.”

“No, Your Majesty, the mistake was mine. I should have paid you the respect you deserved. It’s-You work in an environment for too long and you begin to adopt certain behaviors that you should know aren’t acceptable but when everyone is doing it and-I was wrong. I can’t blame Thor for setting me straight.”

“Thank you, for understanding,” you shrug.

“Thank you for not holding it against me and letting me do better.”

It takes only another few minutes to reach the sitting room and you make a beeline for the small loveseat before dropping into it and leaning back against the soft plush cushions.

“Whew, I probably should have done my research on how pregnancy would affect all aspects of my life before agreeing to it,” a joke and Coates gets it because he looks respectfully amused.

Loki scoffs, “With Thor, I doubt you’d have had much choice in the matter. He is also believed to be a God of fertility, you know?”

“Loki!”

The small shock on your face really makes Coates laugh this time and your neck, ears, and cheeks burn.

Not wanting to drag this meeting out for a long time you clear your throat and Loki sits down on the armchair beside you opposite Coates’s own seat.

“I should really be more formal, but I’m not kidding when I tell you that this pregnancy is taking a toll on me.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Majesty,” Coates assures you.

“I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do with this information and maybe it’ll be best if, with your help, you can get a meeting in front of both the United Nations and NATO scheduled for me to speak to them directly.

“Thor and Loki would be there with me, of course, but it was my idea to even bring this to your attention.”

“I will be of any assistance that I can be,” Coates nods, face serious and attentive.

“We wanted to wait until we had more concrete information to give Earth’s leaders but our Queen is adamant that an early warning is better than detailed information,” Loki explains.

“Is the Earth in danger?” Coates asks, worried now.

“Sort of,” you nod. “Truth is, we don’t know. What we do know is that there’s an energy signature that we’ve been monitoring for months. Almost my entire first year of marriage. What we do know is that the energy signal was strong enough to bring Doctor Foster here to look for an explanation and my brother-in-law has kept his eye on it too. It’s familiar to him and not unthreatening so we’ve been preparing watch stations across the globe. We have one in North and South America, Australia, almost every continent so that we won’t miss any kind of danger that comes falling from the sky.

“We don’t want a repeat of New York,” you look at Loki and Coates looks at him too but neither of you have any kind of judgement in your expressions.

Maybe a little for Coates, but he quickly turns his gaze back on you.

“I wanted to give the people of Earth time to prepare for that kind of attack. The Avengers are already on the case and have been helping build up a defense but they can only do so much. Their focus is going to be on the bigger fight if it comes to that. I want to give us a fighting chance on the ground where regular people are often the ones to get hurt and suffer from big threats like this.

“I don’t want the casualties to look like they have in the past when something or someone threatens us. So, I just want to give world leaders a briefing on what we’ve found, what we’ve built in defense, and give them the resources to keep track of what we’re keeping track of.

“We’re at a unique advantage with not only Asgard’s knowledge, technology, and resources. We’re still a growing nation and what we do have is lots of strength. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and while the Valkyrie have to stay here to protect my family, we have a sizable guard that can be split into a few regiments to send out to the places that will need it most and still have enough forces to protect New Asgard.”

Coates is thinking hard, then his hand dives into his pocket and he pulls out his phone, “I’ll start making calls and can probably have something set up the day after tomorrow. If the threat is serious enough to make you worry about us humans this much, I think the sooner the better.”

“It is serious enough,” Loki assures him. “Even if it turns into nothing, we would all rather have done everything we could to minimize damage to both the humans of Earth and New Asgard.”

“Then I’ll get started. Is there any kind of data that I should see in order to convince my bosses?”

You look to Loki and reach out, placing your hand on his arm, “Loki, take Ambassador Coates down to the dungeon and let him get a look at anything we’ve gathered in the monitoring station. You’ll forgive me for not coming with you, Ambassador Coates? I really can’t stand walking around much longer today.”

“Of course, please do not mind me,” he assures you, giving you a small bow.

“Shall I have your lunch brought in here?” Loki asks.

“Please?”

He nods and with a gesture at Ambassador Coates, leads the way to the door.

“When you’ve made any significant progress, I will be in here. Can you come and let me know?”

Coates nods, the phone now pressed to his ear, “As soon as I know something, Your Majesty.”

They leave you in an appropriate rush and you relax against the cushions of your sofa feeling like a small burden’s been lifting off your shoulders.

You’ve done your part now. You’ve warned your Ambassador, now it’s his job to convince his higher-ups and hopefully they listen.

Estrid does eventually come with your lunch and you eat slowly, thinking through your options for Coates and the rest of the governments of the world. Splitting the Asgardian army up isn’t ideal, but they pack a punch. Even just a handful of soldiers in a city would make a difference.

You finish eating and you finish your tea. You get up to walk a little around the sitting room but as the afternoon wears on, you start to feel suffocated inside and Estrid happily goes with you down to your gardens.

Most of your plants have been well taken care of.

“His Majesty made sure that we kept all of your plants healthy for you,” Estrid informs you, moving to walk a few steps behind you as you walk around with a small watering can.

His consideration brings a smile to your lips.

Thor really can be so sweet. So loving. You hate that some of the time from your first year was stolen by what happened with Jane, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to discover what it would mean to lose you and you had to learn that depending on yourself is still just as important married as it was when you had no one.

Maybe it’s even more important now? You can get lost in your relationship with Thor and while that’s super tempting, to have your world start and end with Thor and your married life together, you are still your own person.

You have goals for your career and shared dreams with him too. You’ve got your hobbies and Thor has his. Both of you needed the distance.

Despite that, even though you know that the space was good for both of you, even if it hurt like hell to get it the way you two did, you’re actually really happy to be back home.

As you reach over to water one of your taller butterfly bushes, you gasp and pull your arm back against your body as a small sharp pain rocks your senses and blinds your vision for a split second.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries forward.

“I’m fine, Estrid,” you assure her, waiting another second to see if the pain will come back.

Reaching down you rub the spot on your tummy where you’d felt it and wonder if maybe the baby is just kicking especially hard today.

“Shall I fetch the doctors?”

“No, really. I’m fine, Estrid.”

You move to the next plant and water a few more as you head towards the small greenhouse with the Asgardian plants you’re still trying to perfect the care for but as you reach for the door, you double over as a shooting pain stretches across the same side as before then moves down onto the base of your belly.

The watering can falls from your hand as you reach out to brace yourself against the door and hits the floor with a clunk as the water goes all over your flats, soaking your feet.

“Your Majesty!”

Estrid races to you, hands placed on your back and arm to support you as she looks to steal a glance at your face.

With your eyes shut tight, you groan and whimper as the pain just gets sharper.

“Estrid…” it takes a moment to catch your breath. “Get the doctors.”

“Guard!” Estrid calls, forcing you to let go of the door so that she can lead you to a bench. “Guard, send for the doctor!”

“Thor,” you whimper, sitting slowly and gasping as the pain intensifies. “Get Thor.”

“I’ll send for him, my Queen,” Estrid assures you and now that you’re seated, she leaves you to run and hurry the guard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Loki?” you call breathlessly, searching for his face for the comfort you know it’ll give you to have him close.

“Here,” he calls out for you and hurries around the corner. “I’m here. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

He hovers over you, leaning over, his hands carefully pressed to your cheek and the other on your stomach.

“It hurts,” you sob without tears, “Loki…”

“It’s alright,” he promises. “You and my nephew will be fine. Come on, put your arm around my neck.”

His certainty does help and you get your arm around him. With ease he squats down and lifts you into his arms and with you moves back into the palace.

~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like a long time when you open your eyes again. You’re dizzy a little and weak. Your body feels heavy and it’s a struggle to sit up.

Looking around, you realize you’re in your bedroom alone. The sky outside is dark and the room is dim with only the fireplace lit to cast a warm orange glow around the dark room.

“Loki?” you try, remembering him carrying you when he found you in the garden.

No movement.

“Thor? Estrid?” You’d sent her to get the doctors and to get Thor. Had the doctors come?

Thor’s favorite armchair is placed by your bed, angled towards you so he must have been in here sitting by you waiting for you to wake up.

With a heavy sigh, you realize that he must have been out of his mind with worry when he heard what happened. Is the baby okay?

You put your hands on your tummy and wait for movement. He does wiggle around a little. Normal for you and him and that makes you feel better about the pain that had come out of nowhere.

It takes you too long to get up and out of bed. You’re in your nightgown, a long simple piece with modern touches but it’s also very similar to some of the long flowing white ones you remember seeing in history books.

Taking extra time to stretch up onto your feet just in case the pain comes back, you breathe a sigh of relief when you take your first step and find that you’re okay.

“Oh, baby,” you reach down and rub the sides of your bump. “You scared me, rascal.”

You know that you should probably stay still. Staying in bed is probably what your Doctors suggested but the empty chair has you worried about Thor and what state he might be in.

So instead of staying where you should, you open your bedroom door and step out into the hallway.

The spots to either side where there’s usually a guard are empty.

You look up towards the other end of the hall and see that the two soldiers have moved to stand at the center of the hall, shoulders tense and obviously distracted. Further down, at what you think they must be staring at is a grouping of palace staff. People you recognize. Estrid stands among them, frowning at the small crack in the door through which pours a line of bright white light from the sitting room you share with Thor.

Did something happen?

As you pass the two guards the jump and hurry back to the sides of your bedroom door where they belong. Their flurry of movement must have drawn the attention of the others standing by the door. They also seem to jump, look shamed and worried, before they move away from the door and head in all different directions to get back to work.

One of the maids that passes you curtsies before she scurries off stealing a look of regret at you.

Estrid stands rigid, hands clasped to her front before she steps back a bit to give you room.

“What is it, Estrid?”

She doesn’t say anything. She looks upset, her lips fixed into a severe line, eyes full of anger as she shakes her head.

“Where’s Loki? Thor?” you check, stopping by her and she only looks at the door.

You can hear muted voices from inside and your heart begins to pound.

Is it the doctors? Are Thor and Loki getting bad news? The baby was just moving though!

Your baby has to be okay. Healthy even. Nothing was wrong before you came back home.

Clinging to your bump, you move towards the crack in the door and with the breath leaving your lungs in fear of what you’ll overhear you just go ahead and push the door open because eavesdropping hasn’t served you well in the past.

If something needs to be said, you want to hear it without hiding.

Of course, what you aren’t expecting to find is Loki facing you by the long sofa where Thor usually lounges, resting his head on your lap. Behind Loki, what must have given him that frustrated look on his face is Thor, Jane clinging to his arm as she finishes speaking the thought you just interrupted as they all turn to look at you.

“-can’t help it. I love you. I-”

The absolute fury that engulfs you is indescribable.

For one year-long second, you inhale and a million thoughts cross your mind. The one you grasp onto, in favor of the ones involving murder and hurt and violence, is the one of your baby.

This kind of anger is bad for him. You can’t let it consume you. Not when you need to stay good for him.

Loki looks down at his feet, disappointment and shame overcoming his pale, handsome features.

Thor quickly jerks his hand out of Jane’s grip and moves towards you but stops when you speak only a few feet away.

“Jane?”

She swallows hard, then frowns, “I only came to warn Thor that the readings have gotten stronger. I-”

“I don’t care why you’re here. I only care that you are here. You aren’t welcome in my house, near my husband, or on any piece of land in this Kingdom,” you take a step towards them and stop as you stroke your belly to remind you to keep calm. “I want you gone. Out of my home, away from my people, and if you trespass here again, I’ll have you thrown in jail. You aren’t welcome in New Asgard.”

“You can’t ban me from an entire Kingdom,” she argues, moving forward towards you.

“Try me,” you warn. “Out of respect for what you meant to Thor in the past, I’ve kept your name clean. I haven’t told anyone what you tried to do here, but here you are trying again. Now either you want me to trash you, or you seriously can’t take a hint.

“We don’t want you here.”

“Thor invited me himself, if he didn’t want me here, why would he do that?”

You grind your teeth, again stroking your tummy, “You’re right. I don’t know why my husband would invite you here when I have made it very clear that you aren’t welcome. Whatever the reason, he and I will discuss it together, because we’re married. Husband and wife. Until the day I die, at least, since he’ll outlive me by two thousand years.

“And whatever you two had in the past is gone. So, get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”

She opens her mouth to argue and you take two steps towards her, “I might be pregnant, but I can still do plenty of damage in the minute that it’ll take Thor and Loki to pull me off of you. Please, say something. Please, please I beg you. Give me an excuse. I have a really bad temper and I am dying to express myself. Please.”

Jane turns towards Thor, waiting for some kind of rebuttal from him but he’s got his eyes trained on you and you alone. The shame on his face, the agony of what you finding them all here might mean is not lost on him.

When he doesn’t say anything, Loki clears his throat, “I think it’s time to go, Jane.”

His urging helps and with a look of hurt and disbelief, she tears her eyes off of Thor and stomps out past you.

You watch her go, Estrid scurrying after her to lead her out the back instead of the front where she might be spotted.

“Loki?”

He turns to you, waiting.

“I don’t want anyone to know she was here. Anyone other than the group of palace staff that was standing by the door fucking listening to what was being said in here. Can you get Heimdall and send her home that way?”

“I’m on it,” he assures you and hurries past you, disappearing into the palace.

“I-” Thor begins.

“Don’t!”

He shuts his mouth.

“Not here.”

Turning, you lead the way back to the bedroom and the guard opens the door for you, Thor following closely behind.

As the door shuts you don’t stop until you’re sitting on your bed, hands stroking your belly as you shut your eyes and try to calm yourself.

“I asked you for one thing. One thing, Thor. I asked you not to make a fool of me. Seven people from our staff were listening to you and Jane. Seven! By tomorrow that’ll be twenty and by the weekend the tabloids will have picked up on the story.”

“I’m sorry,” he starts but you growl in frustration.

“I stood in front of our people and told them that Jane Foster was not welcome in our Kingdom and you walked her right in! I-I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now.”

You get up and point at the large doors.

“I need you to get out. I need space and I don’t care why you let her in. I don’t care why you’d make me look like such a stupid fucking joke I only know that you did and I’m done. I need you out. Don’t come looking for me. When I’m ready, if I’m ever ready to talk to you again, I’ll find you. Until then, leave me alone.”

“Cherub-”

“NO! You don’t get to do this shit, Thor-You don’t get to undermine me and bring that woman back into our lives and still get to explain yourself after she lied to you about being pregnant, and making a mockery of our marriage. You don’t get a say. You get out of my room, you keep away from me, you wait until I’m ready to hear you. Until I’m not angry anymore. Until I’m not hurting anymore.

“I don’t understand what it is about this woman that you just-can’t you see what she is? What she’s done? Don’t you understand why she can’t be here? Don’t you get-You know what? Just get out. I don’t care. I don’t care if you get it or not. Get out.”

“Y/N, please, I-”

“GET OUT!”

The silence that follows your outburst is interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. In the dim light, Thor’s face is grave and broken. You can’t feel bad for him though.

As much as you love him, as much as you wish this hadn’t just happened, as much as you hate to see him hurt, you can’t ignore the pain in your own chest, drowning you again in betrayal.

This is why you’d wanted to keep your distance. This agony is why you’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

This is why you can only depend on yourself.

Eventually, Thor bows his head and with heavy feet, he leaves your room shutting the door behind him leaving you to sob and throw pillows in anger.

[atalho-s]

Light Up The Dark

Part 2 | We are accidents waiting to happen

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: smut +18 miniors dni, swear words?, drinking, let me know if anything else!

words: 5.0 k

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! I don’t have a taglist yet, but if you want to be tagged in the next chapters let me know!! 

PART 2 if you want to read part 1 click here! 

It was already Saturday. The day Y/n took for herself. Writing was extraordinary, but she loved having a day off to take care of herself. She spent the day doing things she enjoyed, whether it was lying in bed watching a movie or trying to cook something.

After the fateful day of writer's block she started writing like crazy, so she didn't feel guilty about taking a day off without thinking about her characters and how they would get out of the challenges she had created for them.

The fateful day. For some reason she kept thinking about that damned Brit with that accent. For a moment she'd been scared that she'd been seen by paparazzi hanging out with the mysterious bartender, or even some picture of him leaving her apartment. But nothing came out in the news on the gossip sites, which made her relieved.

As much as she deserved to have fun once in a while and wasn't doing anything wrong, she still didn't want to bring attention to herself and even less to a guy who wasn't even famous. She was afraid to put anyone who wasn't famous in the media. Fear that one day suddenly, this person might be persecuted because of her.

Anyway, it had just been a crazy night. Nothing much. And she didn't intend to see him again. So she had nothing to worry about.

Sitting down in the kitchen counter with her familiar cup of coffee she got lost in some thoughts. Why hadn't she stopped thinking about him ever since? It had been a great night, but that was all. She didn't even know him well.

Maybe it was because her creative block had been broken after being with him. But obviously it was just a coincidence. She had just felt inspired after a distraction.

She shook his head away from the thoughts and placed the cup in the sink. She took a deep breath and thought about what to do next. But before she could think of anything else her cell phone started ringing on the counter. She was almost jump by the sudden sound, seeing the screen indicating that it was Milla, her agent, who had become one of her best friends.

- Hi Mil! - she said after sliding the screen.

- Good morning baby. - she said on the other end of the line. - Ready for the party?

- Party? What a party? - Y/n asked confused starting to wash the small amount ofdishes she had soiled.

- How you don't know? I thought I sent you the invitation on your email and I even sent you a message!

- Bestie, I haven't seen my email or message for days. I was super focused on the book, my writer's block finally went away.

- Really? I knew that would go away! You were worried for nothing. What did you do to go back to writing? - Milla asked and Y/n smiled a little.

- Well... I just went out to chill out a bit...Nothing much.

- Y/n getting out on weekdays? And even on the days you're writing a book? That's what I call grow. - she said and Y/n rolled her eyes laughing. - I'm even afraid to invite you to parties, because I know when you're writing you hate to go out... But it's good to know that you're getting out of your routine a little...

- Yeah, sometimes it's good to breathe new air. - Y/n replied drying his hands on a towel. - But what party are you talking about?

- A party of none other than Emma Brown. - Y/n snorted. Emma Brown was a great actress who to tell the truth she didn't know much, she only knew her from a couple of her movies, but other than that she didn't know much about her.

But what she did know was that she had some also famous friends of questionable taste. They were those famous people who only knew about money, women, cars and mansions. But she was tipped for a theatrical adaptation of one of her books and she wanted everything to come out perfect. She was very afraid the movie would end up ruining her work.

- Do I really have to go? - She asked in a tearful voice.

- Yes you have! It's going to be a really fancy birthday party for her, all the famous people in the industry are going to be there. You know you have to socialize with these people. Who knows, you can make some important friendships...

- Milla... I don't know... I don't need important friendships. I don't need anyone to stand up or approach others for interest.

- I know you don't need anyone for that... I just meant that you're very isolated, you need to make connections, understand? I know it's hard because you hate all that fame and stuff. But if you want the adaptation of your story to be good, there's no way... Besides, one of the great directors you left me on the list to research will be there too. So it would be really cool to kill two birds with one stone. - Milla said and Y/n sighed. She was right, if she wanted everything to work out she had to at least have a conversation with these people. It would be weird to refuse Emma's invitation to her birthday. It would just show that she was uninterested.

- Okay... You won ok? - She said and Milla gave an excited squeal. - But I won't stay long!

- Okay, okay... Just for you to go is great! Andrew will be there shortly for you to choose a dress. -Andrew was her stylist and she practically jumped every time Y/n had an important event, because it was rare for her to go. Good thing he didn't just have her as a client, because otherwise he'd be bored out of his mind for a long time.

- Okay Mil, thank you... I love you! - She said and Milla said goodbye hanging up the phone.

It was late afternoon when Andrew arrived at her apartment with several suitcases and bags in both hands. He really had brought up thousands of options. But Y/n ended up choosing a slightly shiny black dress that went just above the knee with a V-neck. Something cute, but nothing too fancy.

He did her makeup. Which wasn't too heavy either, as she hated things that were too heavy on her face. Finally she put on a mid-heeled sandal in the same color as the dress and her sparkly earrings. Before Andrew left her apartment satisfied with the result.

It was almost 7:30 pm when a black car that would take her to the party location arrived in front of her building and she got out enter the backseat right after. She was apprehensive. She hated socializing to tell the truth. Large crowds and cameras really made her anxious.

After almost 20 minutes the car stopped in front of what appeared to be a large gate. Several paparazzi showed up and started taking pictures of her car surrounding her or even tapping on the window a little, asking her if she could talk to them. Which she obviously ignored. The driver introduced himself to the doorman and he opened the gate letting the car pass and stop in front of a luxurious mansion.

Some people were coming in and others were standing in front talking. She saw that there were some familiar faces of the media. Actresses, actors, singers, famous people of every imaginable type.

She opened the car door and walked out towards the large entrance. She smiled at a few people, nodding her head as she passed and found herself in a crowd of people as she entered the place. There really were a lot of people, despite the place being even bigger inside. Many with fancy drinks in hand and chatting. A song playing on the background.

She walked deeper into the room and took a quick look around trying to find the birthday girl. After a few minutes she found her near one of the sofas. Y/n walked over and stopped beside her, causing Emma to stop her conversation with two more people and look at her.

- Happy Birthday! - Y/n said in the friendliest way possible and Emma smirked and hugged her lightly afterwards.

- Thank you! Glad you came! - she said, breaking out of the hug after a few seconds.

- Your party is very beautiful, I loved the decoration. - Y/n said looking around. Indeed Emma had decorated the place in a simple way, but at the same time fancy and beautiful.

- Oh thank you... - she said, still smiling. - I'm very happy that you accepted my invitation, we have a lot to talk about since maybe we'll work together, right?

- No problem, obviously I would come... - Y/n said and almost punched herself because she was very fake in saying that. - But we really have to talk!

- Well, I was talking to Jim just now... I can give you his number later... He's a great director and I think it would be great for your adaptation... - Emma said and Y/n thought that she was really interested in that adaptation, because she was even talking to the possible renowned director, which surprised her. She thought Emma was a little more oblivious to her books and even movie stuff. She thought she was one of those famous actresses who expected others to come after her, not being interested in the work itself, but only on the fame and money. - We love your book! I think it has great potential for a grand adaptation.

- Wow, that is good to hear! Thanks a lot! - Y/n said sincerely this time. - I'll love talking to him too...

- Sure! - She looked behind Y/n and motioned to someone from far away. - Hey Jim! You can come here? - She asked speaking loudly for him to hear and Y/n turned around watching the director approaching after saying goodbye to someone. He wasn't much older than she thought, maybe in his early thirties, he wore a small beard that fit his face and short hair, but with curls that jutted out around his head. -That's Y/n... Y/n that's Jim...-Emma said when he got in front of her and Jim held out his hand with a smile.

- Nice to meet Y/n, we finally met... - he said and Y/n shook his hand also smiling.

- Nice to meet you Jim! - She said and Emma sat in one of the armchairs indicating for the two to sit, which they did next.

- Do you two want something to drink? Champagne?- Emma asked and they both accepted as she motioned for someone from far away to bring them.

- Well, I found your book very intriguing Y/n... I can say I haven't slept for a while... - Jim said laughing a little and Y/n smiled. - It's a very well written story, I loved the plots and it has a great resolution. I think I would make a good 2 hour movie with all this material... - he said and Y/n paid attention until something took her a little out of focus. Something not. Somebody.

It was the waiter, and not just any waiter. It was Tom. He came into her vision and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Maybe it was a mirage or she was mistaking him for someone else. But when he approached she was sure it was him. He came with a tray with drinks in one hand. He was wering a white dress shirt, with black pants. The typical pattern of a fancy party waiter. But he was beautiful. Y/n felt a shiver for a moment and tried to hide it by looking back at Jim who was still talking about his plans for the possible movie.

Maybe Tom didn't even remember her. She was just a one-night stand, he should do that with a lot of girls out there, so it wasn't something new to him. As soon as he arrived, he handed one of the glasses to Emma beside her and Y/n felt her breath quicken a little. She didn't know why she was so nervous. It was just a waiter she had slept with a few days ago.

- Excuse me... - he said and Y/n looked up at him quickly seeing that he was right in front of him. -Here it is miss...-he said looking her in the eyes and then winking at her, wich almost make her shrink in her chair. He held out the tray for her to take one of the glasses and she did, looking away at Jim.

- So, what do you think? - Jim asked taking the glass from the tray and Y/n took a sip of his surprise drink.

- Sorry? - She asked guiltily for having been distracted.

- About us meeting and having a meeting next week? That way I can show you my idea better. - he said and Y/n smiled.

- Of course, that would be great! - she said and Tom walked away not looking in her direction again, which left her disappointed for a second. She would going to love looking into those eyes again.

- Perfect! - Jim replied excitedly and started talking about other things as well as Emma.

They talked for almost an hour, until Emma went to talk to other people and Jim said he was leaving as he had some work in the morning. Y/n sat for a while and finished drinking the last of her champagne and placed it on the table in front of her.

She thought about leaving. She had already done the important interactions for the night. So, she had no reason to stay there. But she kept thinking about the damn waiter. Would it be weird to go talk to him? Maybe just say hi? But she doubted he would want to talk to her. Besides, he was working. She didn't want to get in his way.

Getting up from her chair and straightening her dress, she forced her steps towards the exit, but stopped midway as she saw Tom walking into what appeared to be the kitchen with the tray tucked under his arm. She looked at the exit door and sighed. Okay, if she went to him just to say hi, it wouldn't hurt would it?

Y/n turned and headed in the direction that Tom had gone. She couldn't even believe she was doing it this. She would looked ridiculous in his eyes. But she choose to ignore the little voice of reason again. Passing by a few people, and walking out into a empty hallway, she opening a single door at end. She closed in behind her and turned to see that Tom was on his back piling some boxes in a corner. His muscles in that outfit made her feel tempted somehow, so she swallowed hard. He turned at the sound of the door closing and looked at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

- Looking for something madam? - He asked with a smirk.

- Actually... - Y/n thought of some excuse, maybe it would be better, so it would seem that she was there for something else and not for him. - Yeah... I was looking for the bathroom, I think I take the wrong direction...

- Yeah...Actually, the bathroom is on the other side of the hallway... - he said leaning against the kitchen counter and looking her up and down, making her feel completely vulnerable. After his eyes roamed her legs and bust, they came to her face and he grinned.

- Okay, I'll... - Y/n started saying and turned around taking a few steps. But she stopped midway, closing his eyes, tearing himself apart from the inside out of embarrassment. She turned around again seeing that he was still watching her, now with his arms crossed over his chest, wondering what she would do next. - You remember me don't you? - She asked fearfully.

- Of course I remember darling... - he said, practically intensifying his accent in that nickname that was so perfect in his voice. Y/n took a few steps forward also crossing her arms. - How could I forget the famous writer Y/n?- He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes with his last sentence.

- It really was an...- She looked at her feet trying to find a word. - Interesting night… - she finally said and he chuckled, making her look up.

- Very interesting indeed... - he said putting his hands in his front pockets, pulling himself away from the counter and heading towards her. Y/n wanted to say goodbye and leave, run away as fast as possible. But she couldn't, every move he did was too tempting, so she just stood there watching him get closer and closer to her. He stopped in front of her and looked into her eyes, smiling slightly.

- What are you doing here? Do you work as a waiter at parties too? - Y/n asked curiously.

- My boss sometimes receives proposals for us to work at these rich parties... - he said with a shrug.

- Oh... Nice... - she said crossing her arms. - Well...Now I really have to go... - she said trying to get away from it one last time.

- Why did you really come here love? -Tom asked tilting his head a little to the side and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

- I told you, I was looking for the bathroom. -Y/n looked at his face trying to be firm, but saw that he still wore that smirk. Why did he have to be so confident like that?

- Oh sure... Just like you also looked for some excuse that day for me to leave, but failed miserably?- he asked making a thoughtful face and she still hadn't decided if she wanted to slap him or kiss him.

- Why did you leave without saying goodbye tho? - She asked ignoring what he had said.

- So that's why you came after me? Are you hurt that I didn't leave you a goodbye kiss? - he said pouting.

- Of course not, I just... I don't know, it would be nice to say that you were leaving and that you wouldn't stay for breakfast... - Y/n said looking to the side, avoiding those brown eyes that intimidated her.

- Darling, I'm not that type guy, sorry...

- What type of guy? - she still avoided looking at him.

- The type who stay for breakfeast. -he said taking a hand from her pocket and taking her chin gently, making her look at him. - But if you want some fun I'm at your disposal. -he said and she bit her lower lip lightly making him deviate his eyes towards her lips. - Do you want darling?- he asked quietly and Y/n seemed to be transfixed by her touch. She was surrendered, she couldn't deny it. Maybe even hypnotized.

- I...- she said with a little shaky voice. - I don't know...

- Yes or no?- he asked looking from her lips to her eyes and she felt her breath getting heavy.

- Yes...- she just spoke as a whisper and he smiled satisfied.

- How about you meet me in 15 minutes in the bathroom of the pool house? - He said and she just shook her head slowly. Tom released her chin and backed away slowly, not taking his eyes off her, and then walked away leaving her alone with her heart racing.

Y/n took a deep breath and tried to place herself in what had just happened. Did she really want this? Her mind could try to hear the voice of reason, but it was drowned out by her body's reaction. She wanted to feel him again.

She walked away quickly, passing several people who were talking loudly or who were already drunk. She looked around and saw the door that led to the back side and sneak there, getting out and feeling the slightly chilly night air, closing the sliding door behind her.

She saw the pool that had some people around it and a little further to the right a door that opened into another closed space. Probably the pool house. She walked over there, trying to hide it so no one would see her, and went inside. She closed the front door slowly and headed towards the bathroom.

The place was dark, with only the lights outside. So she was holding her hand into to some stuff until he found the door. She went in and turned on the light. The bathroom was spacious, with a large sink and a huge mirror in front of it. She closed herself off and looked at herself in the reflection.

That was crazy. She had never done that at parties. Not even when she was drunk. And now she was there, looking forward to what might happen. In fact she knew what was going to happen, just as she knew when she invited him up to her apartment that night. But even so, she felt butterflies in her stomach in anticipation.

After almost 10 minutes of waiting she heard the bathroom door open and she turned in the direction, feeling extremely anxious. Tom came in looking over his shoulder and closed the door soon after, looking at her with an opening grin. He locked the door slowly with one hand and came towards her in a hurry.

The next thing she felt was his lips pressing against hers urgently. He kissed her like it was the last thing he would do. Running her tongue over her lips asking permission and Y/n opened it slowly letting him explore her mouth with his burning tongue.

She ran her hand around the back of his neck pulling his hair and he responded by holding her waist tightly. Tom walked forward and she leaned her back against the sink counter. Making him lift her with agility, sitting her down on the cold surface and getting between her legs. She grunted in surprise against his mouth and he broke the kiss for air. Kissing from her neck to her collarbone and she closed her eyes feeling his touch.

- Tom... - she said in a low voice. - You won't get in trouble if you disappear like that? -he now kissed her neckline and squeezed her thigh with desire.

- Not if we're fast darling. -He spoke a bit husky, moving his kisses to her earlobe, biting lightly and she moaned low. - And despite loving your sounds, you will have to be silent. - He looked at her smiling maliciously. - Promise? -He spoke touching her nose with his lightly, looking at her closely, and she nodded making him attack her lips next.

Still kissing her he pulled the hem of her dress up a little and she bit his lip making him smile against the kiss. Her fingers reached her inner thigh and then moved up to her panties. Tom put the fabric aside with one of her fingers and passed one slowly at her entrance feeling her wetness.

- Always ready for me aren't you darling? -He said pulling his mouth away from hers, staying just a few centimeters away from her. She moaned softly again and he smiled as he pulled her fingers away and replaced them around her thighs pulling her closer to the edge of the sink.  He started to finger her really slowly and she bite her lips, trying to control her moaning. Tom keep his pace just watching her face squirm with pleasure. After seconds he removed his delicious fingers making her almost protest out loud, makind him smile even more. If wasn't for the rush he would definitively make his time with you.

Y/n then put his hands on the collar of his shirt and opened the first buttons. Kissing his neck with desire, making him squeeze her thighs in response. Biting her lips he unfastened his belt and then the buttons of his pants pulled them down along with his boxers, revealing his cock. He pulled her in for one more kiss before taking the condom package from his pocket and opening it, meanwhile Y/n was kissing uncovered place she could reach, from his face to his chest, opening more buttons of his shirt.

Tom adjusted the condom on his cock before taking a few thrusts. He moved even closer to her, if that was even possible, and gave her a peck.

- Ready? He spoke softly against her lips and she nodded almost in despair, wanting to feel him inside her more than anything.

He smiled once more and slid his cock easily as she was completely wet. Tom growled low against her ear and Y/n bit her lip so no sound could come out. He started to move, after she was more adjusted to his size, at first slowly and starting to increase his pace with each second.

-Fuck... - he cursed softly against her ear and she pulled the hair from his neck with one hand, while the other squeezed his shoulder. The more he increased the pace she felt as if she were coming off the ground. - So tight darling... - he said between small grunts. - Feels so good...

- Tom... - Y/n spoke and he increased the pace even more making her moan with the sudden sensation of pleasure and he muffled her sounds by sticking his lips on hers.

-Shh… - he said after moving his lips from hers and Y/n tried her best to keep the sounds to herself, but he filled her perfectly and made her feel so good that she couldn't help it. Tom smirked and put his hand over her mouth, covering her moans. - Can't contain yourself? -he said and kissed her neck giving light bites and hickeys. -You're so easy for me, love... Look at you...- he spoke in a low voice, while still holding his hand firm in her mouth and kissing below her ear. - So easy...- he said going faster, as if it were possible, and bit his lower lip trying to contain his own moans this time, touching his nose to her cheek.

- Please…- she managed to speak muffled against his hand, feeling her orgasm quickly building.

- I know sweetheart... - he said making her feel his heavy breath into her cheek. -I got you ...-he finally said and that was enough for her orgasm to release with force, making him also come right after her with one last muffled grunt against her neck. He continued to move slowly for a few more seconds, before coming to a complete stop. The two of them with their breaths out of control. Reaching their high.

After a few minutes Tom took his hand from her mouth and soon after took his member out of her slowly. The two were silent the entire time. Y/n felt empty as  soonTom walked away to clean up, still half dazed from all the pleasure she just felt. He cleaned himself up and discarded the condom, zipping his pants and turned around, buttoning his shirt right away. Y/n didn't take her eyes off every move he made and he smiled approaching her.

- Want some help darling? - he asked standing in front of her and she held in his arms before he helped her getting down from the sink. She felt a little dizzy and if it wasn't for him holding her she thought she would fall. - You're right? - he asked still holding her on her waist.

- Yes...Thank you... - she managed to say.

- Well, I have to go, before they notice that I'm gone... - he said, releasing her.

- Of course... - Y/n said. - Tom… - she didn't know what to say. It might be the second time they'd done this, but it still felt like it was the first and she felt somewhat embarrassed. Maybe because she wasn't used to casual sex.

- See you soon? - He said giving a quick kiss on her cheek, fixing his hair in the best way he could and winking as he walked away, going to the door and unlocking it. He got out and closed it behind him while she back staring into the mirror.

She took a deep breath and was trying to figure out what to do next. After cleaning her up she finally got out of there. She crawled to the door and managed to get through the party without the weird looks she thought everyone would send to her when they bumped into her. For some reason she thought everyone would know, but obviously not. She felt weird doing that at an party, it really wasn't like her. But why did she feel so good?

She looked around before heading out of the house, but she didn't find Tom in her vision and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She wanted to look at him one last time from afar, but at the same time she didn't. Maybe that was the last time they were going to do that. She didn't think she'd find him like this anywhere else, and she didn't intend to go to the bar he worked at just to get another night with him. Besides, that's what she was, just one night, just a "quickie" in the bathroom. And everything was fine. He was that for her too, so what did it matter?

For a moment she felt his head fill with ideas. Y/n had a perfect plot for her story now. She had to go home and get back to writing right away. Calling the driver from a distance, she practically ran towards the car.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 28

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Photo shoot day. This ship is leaving the harbor. 

Previous Chapter here

It was still dark out when you got up. Your joints ached as you made your way to the kitchen and got your coffee. You walked over and opened the curtain slightly. In the early morning darkness you could make out snow flurries making their way to the ground. You pressed a hand against the glass, feeling the cold seep through. A chill went through you. You were glad you had ordered the extra waterproof equipment for today. 

You looked back and over towards the stairs. Yoongi would be able to sleep for two more hours before he needed to be at the trailer. BigHit had rented an area of park about 15 minutes outside of Seoul. You hoped traffic would go smoothly given the snowfall and that everything would be on time. The trailer company had already confirmed with you last night. Now all that was left was ensuring the trucks got appropriately loaded with the equipment. You got dressed and headed to the loading docks. 

The sun started to rise an hour later after you, the lighting, and the photography crew had made sure all of the equipment had been loaded. You then sent a message with directions to the head of catering and grabbed the clothing and accessory trunks. Satisfied, and sweaty, you hopped into the van and let the driver know you were ready.

The trip up into the mountains was a little bit scary, to be honest. The fresh snow crunched beneath the tires. As if sensing your nervousness, the driver reassured you, “We’ll just take our time. I drive in snow all the time.” You gave him a grateful smile but did not loosen your grip on the handle above the door.  “I can’t believe this didn’t get canceled.” He continued.

“Yeah, me either,” you agreed. You continued to monitor your phone. There were so many moving pieces that went into this shoot. It was difficult enough when everything was on-site. Having it in a location off-property and outdoors was immensely more difficult. You were glad to see the trailers were actually set up and running when you arrived. You had ordered a restroom trailer and a production trailer. Both generators were running smoothly. You checked in with the photography and lighting crew before unloading the van. 

You set up all of the clothing and accessories in the back room of the production trailer.  Hoseok had sent you photos of what each outfit was supposed to look like along with little notes. On the plus side, it was very nice and warm. It was small, but the space was manageable enough for 2-3 people. On the downside, it made going back outside suck even more. You walked back through the rest of the trailer, making sure the galley was prepared for the catering crew. Photography had their own section to review any footage without getting frostbite.

You took a deep breath and looked around. Yes. This could work. The sun was over the horizon now. You went out to help set up heat lamps.

At around 9 am the rest of the staff showed up: catering, stylists, and various assistants. You quickly assigned jobs to the assistants and showed the caterers to the galley. 

“Hey lady!” Alice waved as she exited the van. “It’s been a minute. What have you been up to?” She reached back in and produced two coffees, walking towards you with one. 

“Oh my goodness. Thank you. Thank you. You know. The same. Working. Helping Jimin prepare for the auction.” You took a sip of the coffee. “This is delicious.”

“Right?” Alice smiled, “I asked the driver if she would mind stopping at a real coffee shop and it turns out she was also burned out on BigHit house blend so we did. It’s so cold.” She shivered.

“Yeah. Well, you will be in the trailer to get started. Yoongi will be coming straight here so nothing will be done.”

Alice giggled, “Oooo, bed head Yoongi.” She turned around as you heard another car door shut. “You hear that Bongcha?”

What. the. Fuck.

“Hey!” Bongcha greeted you. “Ugh it’s so cold.” She wiggled and took a sip of her coffee. “Bed head Yoongi? Sign me up.”

You felt your eye twitch ever so slightly. You took out your phone, “Yeah he should be awake now. I’ll text him to check.” How to ask this tactfully, “Hey Bongcha. I thought Jessi was on make-up today.”

“She was, but she started to feel sick last night and asked if I’d cover for her. Of course I said yes.” She smiled

You swallowed your pride, “Awesome, well thank you so much. I really appreciate you stepping up. Like I said, you two will be in the trailer to start out. Yoongi’s room is in the very back, feel free to set up in there.” You gestured to the production trailer. 

“Great, thanks!” Alice said, walking around to the back of the van. You directed some of the assistants to help the ladies take their equipment inside.

YN: You up?

YG: No :p

YN: omg never call me a brat again. It’s freezing out here by the way

YG: What happened to “the snow is so pretty. I love winter. It’s the best”

YN: I like snow. I hate cold. Status?

YG: leaving now see you soon

YN: You gonna drink hot coffee today?

YG: never

You smiled and put your phone back in your pocket. Watching your breath become air you turned and looked at the set. It was all coming together; you had done it. It had fortunately stopped snowing for now, but unfortunately, your feet were soaked. You didn’t own waterproof shoes.  Oh well, you thought as you felt the cold begin to creep into your feet. This too shall pass.

You checked in with the crew members directing them to the hot beverage station which you had asked catering to set up outside. A floor had also been placed down under a canopy to provide a brief respite from any precipitation. Several people were taking turns standing in front of the heating lamps. “Thanks so much for ordering these!” “I can’t believe we’re shooting today.” You heard several times from the production crew. 

Finally you saw a car pull up that had to belong to Yoongi. You were surprised to see that he had driven himself. You had definitely requested a driver for him. You walked over, waiting for him to get his bag out and open the door.  He got out and mumbled a hello. He was wearing a hat, scarf, facemask, gloves, and long coat.

You smiled, “Hiding from the cold? A good strategy.”

“I hate this.” He said as he walked past you.

“I know.” You followed him, falling in step beside him. “But, look: you have a fancy trailer. And a fancy trailer to pee in. And your skin looks so refreshed and hydrated.”

You heard him laugh behind the fabric, “Yeah thanks, someone assaulted me with face lotion last night.”

“Assault? Please. Anyways, your room is in the back of the trailer. Alice and Bongcha are waiting for you, I have your outfits organized.” 

Yoongi stopped, “I thought I told you not to...you know.” He widened his eyes and trailed off as the two of you were surrounded by people. 

“I did what you asked me, and it couldn’t be helped. I’m sorry, I just found out.” You shivered. The sun had briefly escaped behind a smattering of gray clouds.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, clearly even more pissed off than he had been. “Yeah. Great. Where are your clothes?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused.

He gestured to you. “It’s -3.”

“I don’t have many winter clothes. Besides. It’s not so bad in the sun.”

Yoongi sighed in annoyance and took off his hat. He unceremoniously pulled it down onto your head, covering your eyes.  

“Hey...” you whined as you moved your hands up to fix it. When you did, Yoongi was already at the door of the trailer and going inside. You sighed and enjoyed the added warmth of the grey hat. It was extra toasty since Yoongi had inadvertently prewarmed it for you. You decided to go try and nonchalantly put your feet in front of one of the heaters and hope your shoes would dry out.

“45 minutes. 45 minutes left til go.” You yelled as you headed over to the awning. You plopped down into one of the camp chairs you had rented and took out your phone.

Jimin: Good luck today. I'll be sending you warm thought :(

YN: Thanks my dude. It’s fucking freezing out here. 

You snapped a selfie making a sad face.

JM: Yeah it snowed a lot last night. Omg you have Yoongi’s hat. So cute. Invite me to the wedding

YN: *eyeroll* I’ll invite you to your funeral *angry face*

JM: ahahahahahahahahahaha You smiled and answered a few emails.

WWH: Where are yooooooooo gggggguuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyyssss. Yoongi won’t answer meeeeee :(

YN: Photoshoot all day. Sorry. Maybe we can hang this weekend.

YN: Jin is sad you won’t text him back. 

You sent a screenshot of Jin’s messages.

YG: WWH? 

YN: World Wide Handsome.

YG:.........user does not exists error 404

YN: ???????

YG: This number has been disconnected

Oh my God, you laughed. Putting your phone back into your pocket you decided to go make the rounds on the set and ensure when Yoongi came outside things could move quickly. The first set was with a sleigh. You walked through the blocking with the head photographer and checked with the propmaster to make sure the correct items were in and around it. Satisfied you went to the trailer. The door to the back room was open so you stopped at the doorway and watched. 

Alice had blown Yoongi’s hair back, exposing his forehead. Bongcha was done applying foundation and was lightly lining the corners of his eyes. He flicked them over towards you suddenly. 

“Go away, I’m mad at you.” Yoongi deadpanned

The two girls laughed.

“You two also. When you’re done with my make-up you can leave.” He pointed to the door while pouting. 

Clearly you had missed something.  “Oh? Yeah? Are you mad about the fancy trailer or the coffee station? I need to know.” You put a hand on your hip.

“I think he’s jealous of World Wide Handsome. He’s been going on and on about it. He was trying to get us to disagree, but we can’t.” Alice laughed. “I’m getting ready to spray, hold your breath if you’re sensitive.” 

Bongcha used her hand to shield Yoongi’s eyes as Alice applied the hairspray. 

You rolled your eyes as they all giggled. “Whatever. Your first shot is with the sleigh so it needs to have that Christmassy vibe. It’s this outfit here,” You walked in and gently shimmied behind the other girls, pulling the outfit and accessory bag off the garment rack. You sat down on the couch next to Yoongi. You turned and left the room.

“YN I’m just kidding!” You heard Yoongi yell. Whatever. He was right. Today sucked. You continued on outside, giving another countdown. A few minutes later Bongcha and Alice exited the trailer, presumably to let Yoongi change. They walked over towards you. Ugh. Not today. 

“How has everyone else been to Jin’s apartment but not me?” Bongcha whined as they approached you.

Alice laughed, “WelI was only there to work and do his girlfriend’s make-up. It was awful.”

“Ex-girlfriend though,” You clarified.

Bongcha sighed, “We’ll see how long it lasts this time. They do this a lot.”

“Oh. that sucks.”

“Yeah. Especially since Alice has the world’s biggest crush on him.” Bongcha teased.

“Shut up.” Alive gently shoved her. “Anyways...YN. I need to know. And I won’t be mad. Do you have a crush on Jin?”

You were dumbfounded. Why did people keep asking you that? “Um no?”

“Are you sure? Because you can tell me. I mean. I’ll fight you for him because I’ve liked him a long time and may the best girl win.”

You laughed, “Alice. I definitely definitely don’t like Jin. He’s like a goofy older brother to me. I’m just glad Yoongi has a friend.” 

Bongcha sighed, “It’s just our fate in life to pine after the men of BigHit,” She looked dreamily over at the production trailer.

“Sorry,” Alice said. “Yoongi mentioned Jin was in your phone as world wide handsome so I just got super paranoid.”

You blinked several times and then started to laugh. “Ahahaha no. That’s just how he talks and it makes me laugh. I mean. I understand that he is objectively a good-looking guy. But so are most of the guys we work with soooo…”

“Yeah. But Yoongi is definitely the cutest.” Bongcha sighed. “And he’s so sweet. He even let you borrow his hat today.” She smiled.

“Yep. He’s very thoughtful.” You added, careful to watch what you said. You felt slightly sick to your stomach. You saw the door to the trailer open. Yoongi had his coat on over the first outfit. He scanned the set and headed over to talk to the director of photography. You waited a few minutes before heading that way. 

"Perfect timing YN," Yoongi said. He slipped his coat off and put it around your shoulders. "Keep this warm for me." Before you could object he headed over towards the sleigh. 

Dammit. The coat was warm. You crossed your arms in front of you, pulling the fabric around you. Bongcha and Alice went in for touch ups and then the photography began. 

After the second set another round of snowfall began. You were thankful that so far Yoongi hadn't asked for his coat back. Your feet were thoroughly soaked. Everything on set seemed to be in order. The snow crunched beneath your feet as you made your way over to the production trailer. You headed into the back room and shut the door. Removing your socks and shoes you pressed your cold, pruny foot between your hands, hoping it would warm up. It did help, but you began to dread putting your socks back on. Dammit. 

You heard the door handle turn and looked up. Fortunately it was just Yoongi so far, not the girls. 

"Hey. Sorry, I'll get out of here." you said, starting to collect your things. 

"What's wrong with your feet?" Yoongi asked with a concerned look on his face. 

"Oh. I guess some snow got into my boots. They’re fine. Just cold." You half lied. 

Yoongi picked up one of your socks. "This is soaked. You can't put this back on." He gave the sock a disgusted look and jettisoned it across the room.

“No!!!! That’s my only sock. Yoongi I have to.” You got up to try and find it. “I don't have other ones. There's not even extra Gucci socks from the clothing trunk I can steal.” You started digging around between the couch and end table with your ass unceremoniously in the air.  

Yoongi smirked at first, “Well it's going to keep snowing.” He sighed. “Just stay in here the rest of the shoot.” 

You turned around, your face red from being upside down. “No. I'm your assistant. I need to be out there helping.” You were clearly upset.

Yoongi took out his phone and side eyed you. “Calm down. Just wait. We're taking a break anyways. 30 minutes. OK? I’ll be back.” He shut the door as he turned around. 

Yoongi dialed the number and walked over towards the door. There weren’t many shoes to sort through so he found yours quickly. He frowned as he felt how soaked they were and checked the bottom. The person finally picked up the phone.

Hobi’s voice was high pitched, tinged with concern. "You're calling me? Is everything OK?" 

"No.” Yoongi tried to keep his voice low as he walked over to his car for some privacy “We're at this fucking snow infested shoot and YN doesn't have waterproof shoes and her feet are going to get frostbite. Her socks and shoes are soaked." 

Hoseok could see where this was going. "Where is the shoot?" 

"It's only like 15 minutes away. Maybe 20 with the snow. She wears a 255" Yoongi opened his car door and got inside.

 Hobi couldn't resist, he ran his tongue along his lips. "And what do I get for this favor?" 

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, "Whatever you want. I don't have  a lot of time before we start shooting."  He stopped in annoyance, the hair product sticking to his fingers.

Hoseok closed his eyes and smiled. The satisfaction of his suspicions being true felt good. "I tease. I like YN, I don't want her to get frostbite, I'm doing this for her. No favor necessary." 

“Thanks. I’ll send you the coordinates.” Yoongi hung up the phone and texted Hobi.  He leaned his head back against the headrest. Namjoon was making them do this to punish him, he was sure. There was no reason why this couldn’t have been moved back. He had done everything he had been asked to do lately though. Even though, it turns out what he had been tasked with wasn’t difficult at all. He hadn’t intended to like this arrangement. He hadn’t intended to like you. And it was becoming more and more difficult for him to ignore the fact that he did. You were constantly on his mind.

He smiled as he thought back to last night. You were so cute.  Yoongi closed his eyes briefly, remembering the weight of your hand in his and the feeling of your fingers on his face. He wanted it to happen again again. He felt a warmth rush through his body. It was cut short when he heard the car door open, shaking him from his thoughts. He was annoyed for a half second until he saw you. Still wearing his hat. You were holding his coat. 

“Here, you can have your coat back.” You said, handing it to him like a blanket.

He briefly chewed on his lip, and looked forward again. “Jhope’s bringing you shoes.”

“What? He doesn’t need to do that. Yoongiiii”

“You will make a terrible assistant if we have to cut your feet off.” He replied dryly. He cleared his throat. “Why are you out here anyways? You’re supposed to be staying in the trailer where it’s warm. And not wearing those,” he gestured in disgust to your soaked shoes.

You rolled your eyes, “Bongcha is ready to touch up your make-up. We have ten minutes until the shoot starts again.”

The snow had covered most of the windshield at this point. Leaving the two of you with a half-covered view of the set.

Yoongi looked back out towards the snow, his breath visible as he confessed, “I just want to go home.”

“Me too. I don’t even want to play in the snow. You know how bad that is?” 

Yoongi turned to face you, “If you like the snow so much why don’t you have snow-proof shoes?”

You fidgeted, uncomfortable with the question. “Snow shoes are expensive. I gave mine to my aunt when I moved out. She still has to walk to work.” You pulled down your sleeves to make sweater paws. “I work in the building most of the time so I thought she should have them.” 

“Of course you did.” Yoongi shook his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said defensively.

“Calm down brat. It means you do a great job taking care of others.” He reached over and grabbed your hand. “But you need to do a better job taking care of yourself.”

You looked out the window, sure that your face was growing red. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I know it’s what you’ve had to do for a long time.” He took a deep breath as he forced himself to say the next part, “So I’ll take care of you until you get better at it.” He squeezed your hand and then let go. “Jhope should be here soon with your shoes and socks.” He placed the keys in the cup holder. “Turn the car on if you want.” He let himself out, leaving you to sit and think about what had just happened. NEXT CHAPTER @lidda​​​​  @anpanman-sonyeondan​​​​   @firefairy1​​​​  @cuteipat​​​​  @sugaslittlekookies​​​​  @janeelizabeth1216​​​ @deeepvibes​​​​ @gxldenhunny​​​​ @livelyjay​​​​ @bobbyboops​​​​ @honeysunandsoil​​​​ @deathkat657​​​​ @niniita-ah​​​​ @min-yus​​​​ @or-worse-expelled7​​​​ @black-rose-29​​​​ @storms-and-stars-blog​​   

[dorminchu]

Insult to Injury: The Director's Cut — Chapter 01

Note: All right, it's been a hot minute since I uploaded anything substantial in regard to this fic. So I'm going to try something a bit risky! I've archived Insult to Injury as you all know it, with the exception of a few errant reblogs outside of my control. But that's neither here nor there; I am very excited to present to all of you all the definitive version of this fic — the Director's Cut, if you will. ;)

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine & OC(s) Warnings: Strong language, intense scenes of violence, general cynicism. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— ACT I —

“Everything which is done in the present, affects the future by consequence, and the past by redemption.” — Paulo Coelho

— Episode I: A THOUSAND DETAILS —

In the sterile comfort of her office, Dr Madeleine Swann stared blankly at her computer monitor. The notification that her application as a psychologist consultant with the Médecins Sans Frontières had been sent six days prior blurred with lack of focus. The location of the mission in question was Conakry, Guinea. Her contract duration would last from the start of May to the end of August; just shy of two months away from now. There was an additional caveat:

All non-ECOWAS foreigners are required to have a valid Guinean visa and a vaccination card in order to be granted entry. Yellow fever vaccination cards are verified upon entry into the country at Gbessia.

Approval for the visa necessitated a seventy-two-hour window of clearance. And it would be at least four weeks until she heard back from the Human Resources Office—up to six if she were unlucky. She sat erect and the movement alone was enough to incite a sharp stab of pain into the back of her head. Through the window the sun cast a reddish glare, obfuscating the monitor and warming the nape of her neck. She shoved her face into the heels of her palms while the pressure in her skull abated to a dull throbbing.

Usually she made a habit of drawing the blinds. There were already enough odd complaints about her office being too cold and sterile passed along by the secretary. It had been a stressful enough week that Madeleine saw no reason to keep the shutters closed, so her clients might have something else to focus on besides four polished wooden walls and the analog clock.

What came off to most outsiders as a cool and direct manner of conduct was simply pragmatism. She had a laptop computer used primarily for sending emails. She recorded the bulk of her notes on patients by-hand and revised by means of portable recorder. She kept no photographs in her home nor office. The casual anecdotes she provided to her colleagues were ostensibly as droll as her taste in décor; though her efforts to blend in had largely gone unappreciated.

There wasn’t anything else immediate to review for tonight. She wished a curt good-night to the secretary before donning her coat and exiting into the crisp evening air.

⁂

It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the clinic to the flat. Above her head the clouds hung grey and pregnant with snow. By the time she had ascended the staircase and opened the door to her apartment her fingers prickled. Numbness seeped into her skin. She’d never much cared for the colder seasons.

“You’re back early,” said Arnaud—a fellow Sociology major from her college days. After graduating from Oxford, Madeleine had taken his offer to return to Paris and transfer over to the 8tharrondissement with the understanding that they would be rooming together. Her colleagues back then often referred to them as friends-with-benefits as Madeleine had showed little interest in dating before. After three years of cohabitation, her co-workers at the office wondered how she and Arnaud remained so cordial while balancing their careers and relationship.

“Yes.” Madeleine hung up her coat, noting that he had not yet changed out of his own. “I submitted my request with the MSF a week ago. If I am accepted I’ll be working as a psychologist consultant. In that case, I’ll be out of the country until August at least.”

“Well, you’ve never landed a position that didn’t suit you.” Madeleine smiled politely. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” She looked away from him towards the window. “You could open the blinds. It's very bright in here with the lights on.”

“There’s hardly much to look at when the sun is in your eyes. Isn’t that what you say?”

For the most part, Arnaud was easy to live with. Neither of them required financial support and he was of equitable social standing. Her relentless volunteer work did not always lend much time to get to know his inner mind. “It’s late. Are you going out again?”

“No, I got back first. And it’s fortunate. You looked awfully cold when you came in.”

“I can hardly control the weather. And you needn’t worry, I always carry a key on me.”

“Madeleine, we live together. It wouldn’t be right to avoid you. But you know, if I were going out to an unscrupulous club it would make for a pretty good story.”

“Hm.”

“And knowing you,” Arnaud continued, “you probably won’t be going out drinking. The sunrise disturbs you in the mornings, and you woke up before I did, at seven. I assume you’ve been busy all day. In just a few weeks you’ll be working that much harder. You ought to get some rest while you can.”

“So,” a little cooler, “you’ll be another mission?”

“Most likely.”

“All these countries must seem the same after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. When was the last time you volunteered out of the country? 2011?”

Arnaud laughed. “Jesus, this isn’t a competition.”

“But it’ll give you something to talk about to your friends while I am away.”

Arnaud said nothing. Madeleine frowned. She went into the other room and began to change. He could not approach her in the same casual manner as his peers, nor dissect her outright. His life was one of prestige as well as privilege, and Madeleine could not foster any underlying resentment towards him for acting in his nature. The silence held, strained. Then Arnaud said:

“It’s always been important to you. That’s what should matter.”

⁂

In two weeks’ time she got a response from the HRO; the initial interview was scheduled shortly thereafter. By the middle of April she was making preparations to depart. Thanks to Arnaud’s tactic of avoidance she had little reason to tell him the details. No one would know where she was headed unless they broke inside her laptop and hunted through her mail. The situation in Guinea had kicked into mainstream awareness back in February for a week or so before gradually sinking back into obscurity.

Reports from several news outlets cited the emergence of an outbreak primarily affecting South Africa. Originating inland, a mysterious illness that revealed itself first with fever and spells of vomiting, then gradually ate away at the flesh of those afflicted and bore their bones and muscle, vulnerable to further rot. More emboldened journalists had taken to calling it the Red Death on account of this. Neither a cure nor a place or origin had been discovered.

The situation had not improved in the last two months so much as stabilised. Madeleine had been assured several times over email and electronic conference that those working in the field had already taken precautions, and she’d be instructed further on what to do upon her arrival. She was issued a few pamphlets and strongly advised to vaccinate before boarding the flight. Which she had done, but it was very kind of them to remind her.

In spite of Arnaud’s apparent disinterest, his last words to her before she departed had been: “Last year it was four missions. I'd never seen you so tired. I wish I knew what you’re trying to prove.”

After managing to get some sleep on the plane she touched down Conakry International Airport around mid-morning and contacted the Project Coordinator; a shorter man in his mid-forties with a photogenic smile and toupee. He clasped her hand in both of his clammy ones and said: “Very glad you've made it, Doctor. We need you on-site in twenty minutes. Make sure you are ready.” Her luggage was dropped off on the second floor of the Grand Hotel de L’independence, where she and the other MSF members would be rooming. The staff were polite enough, though their attention was fixed on the Project Coordinator.

Her room was spare and a little dingy, and the only means of fresh air came from opening the window and polluting the room with outside noise, but it was at least reasonably clean. A fine sheen of sweat was building on her skin. No reason to delay the inevitable.

Upon reaching Donka Hospital she met up with the rest of the team, most notably the Medical Coordinator, and the Psychosocial Unit. It soon became apparent that there were still not enough medical doctors to handle the influx of infected. An isolation ward had been established before the MSF’s involvement, but they were reportedly at full capacity; the workers in there were clad in full-body personal protective equipment. Another section of the grounds had been set aside and fenced off; rows of tents all lined up, reminding Madeleine distantly of a prisoner’s accommodations. No matter where you went the stench of rot always seemed to hang pervasively in the air.

She was paired off with another psychologist by the name of John Herrmann; American, around her age. He was of a friendlier disposition than she was used to, introducing her semi-formally to the rest of the group before adding:

“So, one thing you should know now, we’ve been having problems with the electricity on site as well as the hotel. There’s no running water either.”

“This isn’t my first mission with MSF. And I lived out in the countryside when I was small. I know how to look after myself.”

Herrmann smiled. “That’s fair.” He scratched his neck. “The mosquitoes are worse. Bug nets won’t help worth a damn. Make sure you close your windows at night, I had to learn that the hard way.”

“I see.” The humidity combined with the smell off-road were already becoming intolerable. But she did not want to appear so snobbish or weak in front of someone she would be monitoring for the next three months. “I won’t go any easier on you just because you are unaccustomed to the environment.”

 “See ,that’s the kind of attitude we need around here!” He clapped a hand on her back; Madeleine regarded him levelly until he relented. “Good to have you on the team.”

The other members on the Psychosocial Unit were as amicable with Madeleine as the situation permitted. None of them got on her nerves as much as Herrmann. His enthusiasm was never to the point of seeming false or obsequious, but he remained just enough of a go-getter to piss her off. After a week of monitoring them she came away with the impression that Herrmann was genuine. He had been consistently genial with the clientele and hospital staff alike, no matter the severity of their condition. She saw no reason to socialise with him outright. The most he ever noted about her mood was: “You’re pretty reticent for a psychologist consultant.”

“I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”

Herrmann shrugged. “I can respect that. We all deal with the situation in our own ways.” He paused. “I can see why the Project Coordinator wanted you. You’re handling this situation a lot better than I would have.”

“Thank you.”

“The workload must be insane compared to what you’re normally used to. I know it took me time to adjust—" he stopped as Madeleine threw him a look of confusion “—what is it?”

“Back home, I am usually referred to as what one would call a workaholic. Or didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No offence taken.”

The higher temperature was not so bad as the humidity that slapped her in the face whenever stepping outside—according to the forecasts, it was only going to get worse within the coming months. There was no manner of ventilation or air-conditioning in the hotel so often times she had to draw the curtains and keep her hair back. She resigned herself by reminding herself that it was better than sleeping in a tent.

There wasn’t much time to be hung-up on much else besides her assignment. The members of the Psychosocial Unit all looked good on paper, but they betrayed their inexperience through a shared level of idealism towards the mission that Madeleine deemed ill-fated. She did not blame them. Young, perhaps fresh out of school, looking to make a difference in the world without truly anticipating the gravity of the situation. Their time spent observing the crises of the rest of the world through the lens of journalism and outside empathy could not compare with the experience of actually sitting down and listening to the stuff their patients talked of with prosaic seriousness.

It often sounded outrageous when Madeleine played back the recordings, taking down notes in the quiet, stuffy hotel room. Mortality was an expected outcome, and the implication of negligence by their government a common topic of discussion among patients. Most conversations were conducted in French or else by way of an interpreter, though the antagonism in the voices of these patients needed no translation.

There was a growing disparity between the narrative put into circulation by the news and what was happening in the field. According to several members of the MSF and the staff at Donka, the media blew the problem out of proportion. The people whose condition had kicked off the “Red Death” story had been subjected to long-term exposure. Most of the patients that came through were not in that same condition, but it created an illusion of immediacy that incited concern in the public eye and a need for donations. Government officials wanted to cover up the severity of the situation as not to detract from any potential business opportunities; until the MSF got involved, they were only employing the most rudimentary of safety procedures.

This latter revelation had shaken up the Psychosocial Unit considerably; Dr Herrmann had lost his patience with the Medical Coordinator. To this end, he’d apologised profusely to Madeleine afterwards though she would hear none of it. Whatever he felt about the situation was not necessarily invalid, but out of consideration for their patients, he would not bring it up again.

Herrmann never held it against her. So Madeleine busied herself in her own work. Whatever quiet camaraderie forged between the other MSF members was not her business. When pressed for advice, she would talk calmly, carefully with the rest of the team about what would be optimal but never overreach. In the sweltering nights and throughout the early morning, Madeleine would pore over her notes, listening to the passing automobiles and indistinct conversation carried over by civilians.

⁂

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff and Medical Unit, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a consequence of the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their Project Coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack. Outright criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Kessler; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times beforehand, at the discreet behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and reserved and wouldn’t be seen socialising with any of the younger MSF who all talked about him as though he were some out-of-touch stick-in-the-mud. As the situation in the hospital became more dire he would stay behind on-site, late into the evening. Whenever they had a break, he would disappear on calls. Once he came back late by only a few minutes and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down, his attention turned towards the path back to the infected ward. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the Project Coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“I’m flattered. But it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Kessler chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” He froze up, didn’t answer immediately. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough on calls, and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

Comprehension dawned on his face, his shoulders relaxed. “Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded stoically. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Kessler seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation as this. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Kessler shook his head. In a few minutes they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own social grave without further interference.

By the time July rolled around Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from looming insurrection.

Madeleine stopped the recording. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. Just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind wouldn't settle on either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Kessler. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the Project Coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the Project Coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated, around three or four in the morning. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of Kerberos the losses were minimal. Several doctors had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. Others, such as Drs Kessler and Herrmann, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the hospital doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack, but as a failed interception of an attack by local terrorists, stopped by the FSPs.

“Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent would presume a Czech or Russian background but his complexion and eye colour invited room for ambiguity. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, Madeleine had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Kessler?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

 “That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the Project Coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to his side. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She'd forgotten to lock it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Kessler?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“But you were asked to monitor Dr Kessler.”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Kessler was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Kessler and the Project Coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the Project Coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her became sharper. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Kessler exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I got up and closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept any apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Kessler’s lifestyle outside of the MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his work. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor immediately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “Thank you for your cooperation. The Project Coordinator is waiting for you downstairs.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Unit was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint until daybreak.

When she’d arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you again. No one else will come looking for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around she was undoubtedly safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.

⁂

July brought hotter weather and brittle peace—the vaccines had finally arrived. The wing of the hospital that had suffered the terrorist attack was still closed and they had lost several more staff members wounded in the initial attack. Madeleine and the remaining MSF were encouraged by the Project Coordinator to take earlier shifts. Progress remained steady but there was no clear resolution in sight. The stench of rot imprinted into Madeleine’s senses to the point where she no longer consciously registered her own nausea. Discontent among the staff continued to bubble under the surface on account of the closed wing and bad press.

It couldn't last forever.

A week away from August. Just another humid morning at six AM. Madeleine rose and prepared herself mentally for the day ahead. Stress kept her mind working late into the night, but her position with the Psychosocial Unit barred her from working overtime in the hospital. She was overwhelmed with keeping up the pace, not yet to the point of exhaustion.

There was an inordinate of activity on the road outside as she got dressed and left the room. She put it out of her mind.

Outside the hotel she met up with the Medical Coordinator and a few members of the Logistics Unit. They spent about ten minutes standing idle in the humid air, too weary to speak. The streets were usually empty this time of day.

An unremarkable black Jeep pulled up. The Medical Coordinator opened the door and was about to step into the car when it happened. The Medical Coordinator’s head burst over the interior of the vehicle and Madeleine. The body slumped like a doll to the dirt. Madeleine wanted to scream but could not. She turned and found herself facing down the barrel of a rifle.

Around a dozen men with guns, sans insignia, circled them. The man who had fired addressed her harshly in French: “Where are the rest of the MSF? Why are they not at the hospital?”

“I don’t understand.” Madeleine could see another group of men approaching from the rear. A massacre, onset.

“We’ve been waiting for months for a solution, and you have been injecting us with a useless vaccine.” He aimed right at her sternum. “Your doctors gave them all false hope for months. Now the MSF have abandoned you.”

“You have been protecting them!” the insurgent roared, levelling his weapon. “All this time! You knew why they were here, and you allowed them to experiment on our families like dogs!”

The man at his left turned and fired. The insurgent fell dead. “That’s enough.” One of the men from Kerberos in plainclothes. A dozen more in military gear materialised as if from nowhere. “There is no need for additional bloodshed,” said the plainclothes. “Release them now or you will be shot.”

All around her at once, gunfire. Madeleine didn't wait to see who had fired first. She prostrated herself, hands clasped over her neck, breath clogged in her throat.

All sound ceased. Her head continued to ring. Her eyes were open but she did not process the colour staining her skin, on her clothes, the smell of it. She hadn’t been shot. Her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Heavy footsteps approaching. She closed her eyes awaiting the kiss of metal at her temple.

“Dr Swann.” Madeleine shrunk away instinctively from the gloved hand upon her forearm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Another soldier pulled her upright. Sight of blood on dry earth briefly mixed up with blood spattered across wooden floorboards. Madeleine went limp. Ushered into the backseat of an unmarked Jeep, she could not stop trembling. Shoulder-to-shoulder with another man she recognised as head of Logistics, Peter Miller. The door slammed shut, jolting her back into her own body. Sound of the ignition set her into trembling. Miller’s naked hand materialised on her shoulder. His voice overtaken by the roaring in her ears. Madeleine bowed her head into her hands like a child, whispering: “Ne me tuez pas. Je n’ai rien fait. Je ne sais rien.”

[xofanfics]

Selfish - Part 14

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Pairing: Jun x Reader / Chan x Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Summary: You love them both and you’re torn. But…what if you didn’t have to choose? Jun was scrolling through hotel listings on Jeju Island. He’d decided to surprise you with a trip to Jeju Island. What better way to prove himself to you than to spoil you a little bit? As the holidays came and went, February was here before he knew it. It was the perfect time to go on a trip. And he knew that you could use a little rest and relaxation.

Jun bought two plane tickets that night, as the prices went down a bit. He was excited to spend some time away and alone with you. You’d forgiven him but he knew that he was still sort of on your shit list. If something else went wrong, he wasn’t sure what you’d do. After all the two of you had been through with Malai and the arguing with Chan and all, things had been a little rocky.

He’d spend the next couple of days planning the trip, deciding some fun things to do while you were there. He wanted things to be perfect and he had all these ideas. He wanted to take you to see all the sites—the waterfalls, the beaches, all the beautiful things nature had to offer. You’d forget about all the stress of being at home and just enjoy the vacation with him.

As he scrolled through hotel listings, you called him. “Hello?” 

“Hey, babe,” you said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just on the computer browsing. You?”

“I just got out of the shower...”

“Oh really? What are you wearing?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Wanna see?”

He smirked. “I can’t say no to that.” A moment later, he got a notification on his phone that you’d sent him a photo. You were nude, laying on your towel. You took the picture in the mirror above your dresser, across from your bed. “Wow. You look amazing, baby. I can’t wait to get my hands on you…”

He spent almost an hour on the phone with you and in that time, he found the perfect hotel. It wasn’t a huge suite like he would’ve wanted but it had a king sized bed, a loveseat, desk, and a huge flat screen tv. Not to mention the beautiful view. And even though it wasn’t summertime, it had a really nice pool outside. Luckily though, there was an indoor pool and a spa that you could take advantage of. He’d definitely book a couples’ massage with you, so you could both get all those knots of tension out of your systems. 

Jun was getting excited just thinking of all the fun you could have together. Lately, there hadn’t been much to look forward to so this trip was just what he needed. He was pumped to spend some time with you and get you all to himself. It had been a long time since he’d been on vacation and you hadn’t been on one either. So, he was more than happy to solve that problem. 

*

As Jun went up the train station escalator, he could hardly contain his excitement. Everyone had a long weekend due to the Korean New Year. Jun was glad because he planned to tell you the surprise today. The two of you had planned to have dinner together tonight and it gave him the perfect opportunity to tell you about his surprise.

You were waiting for him in the lobby of the building you worked in when he walked in. He figured that you must’ve gotten off a little early. As he walked toward you, you didn’t see him. He smiled at the sight of you in the lounge chair, smiling at whatever you were looking at on your phone. 

“Hi beautiful,” he said, taking you by surprise. “Did you get out a little early?”

You smiled, grabbing your bag and standing up to greet him. “Hey babe. Yeah, honestly everyone was ready to have a head start to this weekend. Everyone practically ran out of the office once our boss said we could leave.”

He kissed you on your forehead. “Nice.”

The two of you walked out of the building together, starting toward the restaurant that you wanted to go to nearby. On the walk there, you told him about your day and how the restaurant had really good steak and that it comes out perfect every time. He loved how animated you got when you spoke and how your eyes lit up with excitement. 

You arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later and were seated right away. It was more crowded than it would usually be on a Thursday evening because it was more like a Friday evening since everyone would be off of work tomorrow. 

“I come here with my coworkers sometimes for their lunch special,” you said, flipping through the menu. 

Your order was taken and you had your drinks within five minutes. Over the red wine, Jun said, “I have a surprise for you, babe.”

Your eyes lit up again, turning from your drink. “What is it?”

“We’re going to Jeju tomorrow morning,” he said. “I wanted to take you on a trip since we have off.”

“Wow,” you said, smiling even wider, “that sounds amazing. Are you serious?”

“Believe it, baby,” he said, reaching for your hand.

You looked down at the table for a few seconds before you said, “I have an idea, but it’s kind of crazy.”

“How crazy?”

“Well do you think that we could ever spend time together? Like the three of us?”

Jun nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“Well, what if he came with us?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you said. You cleared your throat. “I mean, we can wait another time if you want, of course...but I just wanted to put the idea out there. It could be good for us.”

To be honest, Jun wanted this trip to just be for the two of you, without Chan tagging along. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he had a problem with this arrangement or that he was being greedy. Even though he didn’t want to, he said, “Yeah, that’s fine with me,” because he didn’t want you to be disappointed. The reality was that his reply was the furthest thing from the truth. 

And it brought a smile to your face. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna give him a call and see if he can still get a flight. Can you forward me the flight info?”

He pursed his lips together as he went into his email and forwarded the flight itinerary to you. With a quick “Thanks, babe,” you were gone. You went into the hallway outside of the bathrooms and took out your phone. 

“Hello?” Chan answered.

“Hey,” you said, “I have good news and bad news.”

“Okay, what’s the bad news?”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to have our sleepover this weekend…”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to Jeju with Jun this weekend and I wanted to know if you wanted to...come with us.”

Chan paused for a moment; you didn’t blame him. The three of you had been through a lot in this relationship and you wondered if it was too soon to be together like this. Finally, he said, “That sounds like fun...”

“Do you really think you two can be in the same room together...with me?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean, it’s bound to happen eventually, right?”

You gave him the flight number and, thankfully, he was able to book the flight. And from the looks of it, he was a couple rows behind where you and Jun would be sitting. 

“I’m all booked,” he said, after checking and re-checking the reservation. He chuckled. “I should get packing.”

*

Chan heard a knock at the door, interrupting him from his packing. It was Jason, who had arrived with a box of pizza. He sighed and went back over to his luggage. Confused, Jason sat down on the floor, putting the pizza on the table.

“What’s with you?” he said. He pointed to the luggage. “Are you going somewhere?”

“To Jeju,” Chan replied. 

“Ooh that sounds like fun. I wish I was going somewhere. My family is right here in Seoul so there’s not really anywhere to go.”

“There’s only but so much fun I can have,” he said, rolling his eyes, as he threw socks into his suitcase. “Jun booked a trip for them this weekend and Y/N invited me along but it feels like it was more pity than anything else…”

Jason cursed under his breath as he opened the pizza box. “Maybe he wants to make peace. Maybe this is him putting his foot forward and trying to make things better.”

“On my weekend? The bastard had the nerve to book this trip when I was supposed to spend the weekend with Y/N! He would do something like this! He had her to himself last week!” 

He kicked the suitcase out of frustration, startling his friend. Just when things seemed like they were looking up, Jun just had to do something to sabotage what they had. 

“Well, Y/N will be there. She won’t let him get carried away.”

Chan sighed and sat down, grabbing a slice of pizza. “I don’t know, maybe I should’ve thought this over more. It feels like I’m third wheeling with my own girlfriend.”

Chan loved the idea of going on a trip with you. Since he was always busy with work and school, he rarely had enough time for the two of you to have a weekend getaway. But, for once, he was free all weekend and the cafe was closed for the holiday. And even better, his boss still paid him for the days he had off. He’d dubbed it a “New Year’s gift.” For once, things had been aligned so perfectly that it was hard to believe. And he planned on spending it with you since it was, in fact, his weekend to spend with you. 

But now the plans had been rearranged. You called him asking if he wanted to go and he didn’t want to disappoint you, so he agreed to the plan before thinking it through. Would it be a good time? He was struggling to trust Jun in the first place; he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool if he hurt you again. On the other hand, it was something that would have to happen sooner or later. In this polyamorous relationship, the three of you would eventually have to come together sometime. It couldn’t always be separate relationships that were somehow still one.

“Is she usually fair though? Does it seem like she favors him over you?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, mouth full. He swallowed and added, “I just gotta make it until Sunday. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Chan sure as hell hoped so.

*

The three of you arrived at the airport a little sooner than expected. You checked in your bags and went through security with no issues. You arrived at the designated gate with an hour to spare. Chan sat down, leaning against his neck pillow. He looked tired; he’d mentioned how he stayed up a bit late trying to finish one of his assignments so that he wouldn’t have to stress about it on Sunday before classes started back up again on Monday.

You went to the bathroom briefly and, when you came back, Chan was fast asleep. You smiled at the sight of him and the fact that his mouth was slightly ajar.

Jun chuckled and said, “He passed out right away. Do you wanna get something to eat since we have time?”

You nodded and went to shake Chan. “Babe, do you want to eat?” Chan opened his eyes ever so slightly before groaning and turning his head away from you.

Jun said, “Just leave him. He’s pretty tired, isn’t he? We can just get a sandwich for him or something.” You nodded, figuring that you should probably let him catch up on his sleep. It was early and you’d get to Jeju a little after one o’clock. If the three of you were going to do anything fun, he’d need to save his energy. 

As you walked to the toast stall you passed earlier, you said, “So what did you have planned for us?”

“Well, I was thinking today since we’re getting there a little later, we could take it easy and explore the city a little. There was a teahouse I wanted to visit. Then we can relax a little and get dinner together. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good...and thank you for planning all of this.”

“Anything for you,” he said.

You arrived at the toast stall and ordered toast for the three of you. Jun was surprised that you knew exactly what he would want and Chan, too. He loved that about you—you paid close attention to details. Even when he thought you weren’t listening or paying attention, you were. He loved you so much and he wished that this trip could be for just the two of you, but he also remembered that he signed up for this. He was the one that agreed to this and, while he had the right to change his mind, he didn’t want to lose you. He figured that this was better than nothing and he wanted to keep you in his life in whatever way he could. 

When you got back to the gate, Chan was awake and playing a game on his phone. He smiled upon seeing you walking toward him. 

“We got breakfast,” you said, handing him his bag. “Toast with extra egg.”

He smiled. “You’re amazing, you know that...”

“I would’ve ordered you extra egg, too,” mumbled Jun as he sat down in his seat next to you. 

The three of you just laughed. You were grateful. Maybe things were looking up for the relationship. There wasn’t as much tension between Jun and Chan today. You didn’t know if it was because they’d both matured a lot within the last couple weeks or if it was just because it was early in the morning. Either way, you were grateful and you hoped that the rest of the trip would go this smoothly.

Before you knew it, it was time to board. As the three of you inched along in the aisle, Jun turned to you and said, “Okay. Row twenty-one is right there.”

You said, “Why don’t you and Chan sit together? You could get to know each other a little better. I don’t mind sitting by myself. I can just sit where Chan was going to sit.”

Jun started, “B-”

Chan smiled. “Yeah, we should get to know each other better.”

Jun wasn’t thrilled to be sitting next to Chan on the flight but thankfully it was only for about an hour. But over the course of the hour, things weren’t bad. There would probably always be at least a little tension between the two of them, since the relationship started out in a strange way. But things were actually okay.

Chan carried the conversation, at first. He asked Jun about the kinds of music he liked and then they talked about their families and some childhood memories and Chan told him about his life growing up in Jeju on a tangerine farm. Jun was almost surprised at how down to earth he was. He wasn’t snobby or any of the things that he’d assumed about him. He almost felt bad for thinking those things about him. The reality was that Chan was a good guy and he could see why you liked him in the first place. 

Chan said, “I told my mom that I was coming for the weekend. I was thinking that maybe tomorrow, if we have time, we could have dinner with my family.”

Jun nodded. “By chance, do they know...about us?”

Chan paused. To be honest, he’d only told his friends about the true relationship they were in. Of course, he’d told his parents that you were back together with him but he hadn’t told them that you were also dating Jun. How could he tell his parents something like that? They definitely wouldn’t approve and he had no idea how complicated it would be for them to understand something that was so complicated in itself. 

“Not exactly,” he answered.

Jun knew what that meant before Chan needed to explain further. Jun knew that he wouldn’t be able to go to have dinner with Chan’s family as your boyfriend. In this situation, Chan would be your boyfriend and Jun would be stuck playing the role of a friend, whether it was your friend or Chan’s. Either way, it was like playing pretend.

Jun had no right to feel upset by it because he was in the same predicament with his own family. They knew that you’d hit a rough patch and got back together, but they had no idea that you’d picked up an additional partner on the way back to each other. He hadn’t even told his older sister despite the fact that they were pretty close. 

Was this something to be ashamed of? Would this be something that could ever be accepted? Even though no one was exactly lying, there was a lot of information being withheld. Jun had no idea how the three of you could keep this up. For how much longer, realistically, could you keep it up?

*

You pushed open the hotel room door, exhausted from the walk you’d gone on. You got to see the surrounding areas near your hotel and went to the teahouse that Jun wanted to go to, trying and even buying some of the teas. And Chan showed you some of the places he liked to go as a kid. And you had some street foods and tried fresh grilled mackerel, which Jun enjoyed so much he got seconds. It had been a while since Chan had been able to come to Jeju and he had never gone with you before; you had broken up with him before he had the chance to bring you to his hometown. You watched him as his eyes lit up, picking up memories from his childhood.

So far, you liked Jeju a lot and the scenery was so beautiful and you got a lot of pictures. From what you could tell, Jun had a good time too. And he took a bunch of pictures with his new camera. And your boyfriends were also cordial in taking separate pictures with you, too. And then you asked a kind stranger to take pictures of the three of you, together. 

“I’m exhausted,” Jun said, plopping down on the couch.

“That was fun,” you said, putting down your purse. “Thanks for showing us around, Chan.”

“Of course,” he said. 

“I made a reservation at the steakhouse for seven. We have about two and a half hours until then,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, we can just hang out around here for a while.” 

Chan said, “I could use a warm cup of tea,” poking around the kitchenette. There were two packets of instant coffee and two tea bags, clearly not enough for the three of you. “Actually, I’ll go to the cafe downstairs. Y/N? Jun? Do you want something?”

Jun said, “Can you get me a matcha latte?”

You said, “Me too.”

Chan nodded and grabbed a key card. “Be back in a couple minutes.”

As Jun heard the door shut, he was relieved. Finally, he’d have a moment alone with you. You smiled before he had a chance to say anything and you sat next to him on the couch before he had a chance to call you over. He sat up, pulling you into his arms. You snuggled into his shoulder. You said, “Thank you for planning this trip. I can’t wait to get cute for dinner.”

“You always look cute, my love. Which dress did you bring?”

“I got this long sleeved black one,” you said. “I’d gotten it awhile ago but didn’t have a chance to wear it.”

“I’m sure you’ll look great,” he said, planting a kiss on your lips.

You stood up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom…”

A few minutes later, Chan returned with the drinks. Jun was fast asleep on the couch, his legs sprawled out and his mouth slightly open. He heard water running in the bathroom and assumed that you were in there. He set Jun’s drink on the coffee table next to the couch, assuming he’d probably wake up in a few minutes. 

When you came out, Chan was sitting on the bed sipping on his tea. You sat next to him and he handed you your drink. “Thanks, baby.”

“No problem. Jun must be really tired, huh?”

You rested your head on Chan’s shoulder with a yawn. “Yeah. The first day of vacation always seems to be the hardest.” You glanced up at him. “Are you okay?”

He looked down at you, meeting your eyes. “Of course. I’m here with you.”

*

Jun’s eyes fluttered open about a half hour later. The room was darker than he remembered and as he glanced over to the window. The setting sun peeked through, shining on you and Chan asleep in the bed together. His heart dropped at the sight and jealousy pumped through his veins. 

He looked at the matcha latte, grabbing it and taking a sip. He was so annoyed he didn’t know what to do. What he really wanted to do was go over there, drag Chan out of the bed and possibly punch him in his stupid face. But this was his own fault. He had opened the door that allowed him to come on this trip with you anyway. He should’ve put his foot down when he had the chance. He’d just wanted the trip to be for the two of you and he didn’t have a problem with Chan doing the same in the future.

Was this selfish of him? Was this something he’d have to deal with for the duration of this relationship? Would the pangs of jealousy and frustration go away?

Matcha latte in hand, he decided to take a walk so that he could calm down a little. He knew that his anger and frustration would only boil over and spill into the relationship. The last thing he wanted was to upset you and especially not on a trip that was supposed to be relaxing for everyone. Although Jun felt anything but relaxed so far.

He went outside and started walking around aimlessly, no clear destination in sight. He just needed some air. He needed some time to himself, just to take a few deep breaths. 

Eventually, he started feeling more and more anxious as he walked back toward the hotel a few minutes later. His mind raced with irrational thoughts of the two of you in bed together. What if you were having sex right now, making a mess on the bed that the three of you were supposed to share tonight. 

He took out his phone, hoping that Taesik was free to talk for a few minutes. The phone rang four times before he answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, how’s day one of vacation?”

“He’s all over her! How am I third wheeling on a trip that I planned?”

“Who are you more upset at, Jun?”

Jun sucked his teeth. He didn’t need his friend on the other end of the phone call being reasonable. He let out a sigh. “I don’t know...I just know that they fell asleep in the bed and her head is on his shoulder and he’s holding her hand.”

“I dunno what to say,” said Taesik. “Maybe this was a bad idea…”

Deep down, Jun knew that the three of you had issues that you hadn’t resolved. Jun knew there were issues but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact problems. He wasn’t a professional and neither were you or Chan. The three of you were just struggling through the whole thing. Should you invest in couples’ counseling? Was this normal? Jun hated this concept; he had no idea what was right and what was wrong. Was it normal to feel jealousy in a polyamorous relationship? 

“Yeah,” he said, “maybe we’re not ready for this…” He heard the phone beep on the other end. Pulling his phone away from his ear, he saw that you were calling him. “She’s calling me…”

“Answer her,” said Taesik. “Call me if you need to vent. I hope everything goes okay tonight.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Talk to you later.”

He clicked over to the other line, answering your call. “Baby, where’d you go?”

“I just got bored and came outside to watch the sunset,” he lied.

“Come back,” you said. “We should start getting ready. Chan is still asleep, so I’ll shower first.”

Jun said, “Okay, I’ll see you in a minute,” and the call was over. He headed upstairs to the hotel room, bracing himself and taking deep breaths to calm himself down. There was no reason for him to be angry. He had agreed to this arrangement, after all. He was in a relationship with you but so was Chan. And they needed to find a way to deal with it all.

When he got back, he heard the sink water running. Glancing over at the bed, he saw Chan was still asleep. He knocked on the door and you opened it, still dressed. You hadn’t gotten in the shower yet; he caught you just as you were washing your face. Finally, even if it was in the bathroom, he could have a moment alone with you. He stood behind you as you pat your face dry with the towel. 

“How was your walk?”

Jun nodded, wrapping his hands around your waist. “It was good. I’m better now that I’m back here with you,” he said, kissing your neck. “Mind if I join you in the shower?”

You raised your eyebrows at the suggestion and it also made you excited. “Yeah, why not?”

Jun watched as you peeled your clothes off slowly, teasing him. He’d be lying if he said his dick wasn’t throbbing in his pants at the sight of you. Taking off his own clothes, he never took his eyes off of you. And when you were completely bare before him, he pulled you closer to him and kissed you, hard. Your tongue found his, your naked bodies pressed together against the glass of the shower door. 

“I love you,” Jun mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you, too,” you answered, planting one last kiss on his lips. You followed Jun into the shower and you didn’t hesitate to start washing him up first. You took care to be gentle with him, turning him on. His lips parted as you massaged his balls and he let out a groan as your hand went up and down his shaft. Now, he was completely hard and his dick was throbbing with desire to bend you over and pound your pussy until you were screaming for more. 

He cursed under his breath as he got under the water and you helped him rinse the soap off of his body. He kissed you again and, as he did, he reached down to your clit. It caught you by surprise, making you gasp. He rubbed it harder and your lips parted with a moan. 

“Quiet, baby,” he whispered. “You don’t want to wake Chan up, do you?” He spun you around so that you were facing away from him, reaching down to rub your clit from the front. With his left hand he covered your mouth and with his right, he rubbed your clit. Jun enjoyed fucking around in the shower, even on a regular day. He loved seeing your wet body and how your pussy would end up like a river, your wetness flowing out and onto his fingers. 

He kept going and you squeezed your legs together as if you were trying to escape. Jun chuckled. “Don’t you want to come, baby?” With that, you parted your legs again, letting the pleasure take over. He felt the vibrations of your moans on his palm, but he held it there anyway. It turned him on to feel you struggling. He took your clit between his thumb and pointer finger, giving it a few light squeezes that drove you crazy. After, he dragged his fingers down your slit. Already, you were so wet. And he knew that it didn’t take you long to come like this.

He could feel you struggling, against his fingers. Your body was starting to twitch and he knew you were dangerously close to your orgasm. 

“Come for me, Y/N,” Jun whispered in your ear. 

Hearing his voice in your ear is what did it for you. You couldn’t take it anymore. You let go, trembling, shivering, and coming all over his fingers. And once you came down from your high, he kissed you once more.

*

“Are you almost ready to go?” Chan asked. His stomach was growling and you’d been prancing around the hotel room in your bra and underwear, scrambling to finish getting ready for the past ten minutes. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping into your dress. “My makeup didn’t come out like I expected...Can you zip me?” Chan nodded as you walked over toward him. He zipped you up quickly, hoping that this was the last thing you had to do before the three of you headed to dinner. Thankfully Jun had pushed the reservation to 7:45 rather than 7:30 because of the chance you might be late.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, placing your hands on Jun’s shoulders as he sat on the couch. 

“Okay,” Jun said. “Let’s call a cab.”

Within fifteen minutes you arrived at the restaurant. Luckily, it wasn’t too far away from the hotel. Jun had chosen a nice restaurant because he wanted to treat you to a special dinner. Of course, he had to change the reservation to three people instead. And he’d be sharing dinner with not only you but with Chan too.

You entered the restaurant and your party was seated right away, in a booth. Thankfully it was one of those curved ones so that you didn’t have to choose who to sit next to or for the three of you to squeeze on one side. You sat in the middle, with a boyfriend at either side of you.

“This place is pretty nice,” said Jun, taking off his coat. “I know you don’t like restaurants that are too fancy, so this is a good in between.”

“Yeah,” you said. “This is perfect. I’m paying, by the way.”

“No,” Chan said. “You shouldn’t be the one to pay. I should pay, since there was this last minute change.”

Jun rolled his eyes when no one was looking. Jun had planned on paying and here Chan was being a goody-two shoes. He found himself becoming annoyed, even though he had been trying so hard not to act like this. While you were getting dressed earlier, he tried to push down feelings of jealousy as you walked back and forth from your suitcase to the bathroom half dressed. He tried not to feel jealous because obviously both he and Chan had seen you naked and both he and Chan had sex with you; everything was just separate. 

Jun tried to push down those feelings of jealousy as he looked at the menu for the next few minutes. The waiter came and took everyone’s order. He said, “Wine, anyone?”

“Sure,” Jun answered. “What wines go well with steak?”

Jun was definitely going to need some alcohol in his system if he was going to get through the night without losing his cool. He didn’t mind Chan, in general, but he’d like him much better if he was back in Seoul instead of here with them. 

For the most part, dinner went smoothly. The three of you had some pretty good conversation. Things between Jun and Chan weren’t explosive; neither men took petty jabs at each other and the three of you were able to laugh together. If anything, they were the ones poking fun at you, revealing a few of your embarrassing moments.

Jun chuckled. “Oh my god, did Y/N ever tell you about the first time she got blackout drunk?”

“No,” Chan said, “what happened?”

Jun cleared his throat. “She was at the karaoke bar getting drinks with Na-Ri and their other friends and she asked me to come get her. So, I get there and order more drinks. Next thing I know, we’re leaving and she fell into some garbage bags outside the bar. And when I got her back up again, she fell back down into them.”

As the guys started laughing again, you said, “Stop! That was so embarrassing. Everyone stopped to look and you know what the worst part of it was? There were police officers on duty and they walked by and they laughed! They fucking laughed at me! Can you believe that?”

And both Jun and Chan erupted into laughter. Jun picked up his wine glass, finishing what was left. He’d been the one to finish most of the wine, leaving little for you and Chan. He said, “Oh, did I finish most of it? Should I order another?”

You put your finger on your chin. “Actually...we should go out after this.”

Chan looked up, chewing on a piece of steak. “Where to?” 

“I saw some bars a few doors down. Why don’t we check it out?”

In an ideal world, Chan wouldn’t be here. In an ideal world, it’d just be you and Jun. And in an ideal world Jun would go out with you to the bars knowing that he’d be taking you back to the hotel so that you could make love all night and fall asleep in each others’ arms. But that couldn’t happen tonight and it was frustrating. It’s not that his main goal was to have sex with you but having the option taken from him sucked. He just wanted some privacy and alone time with his girlfriend. But with Chan here, it was impossible and he’d just have to make the best of it. His goal was just for you to be happy and to enjoy yourself.

*

This lounge had a chill vibe. It was a little more upscale than the others in the area but, surprisingly, it wasn’t too crowded considering it was a Friday night. The three of you sat in a booth, complete with velvet couches and a menu perfectly aligned in the center of the table. You picked up the menu, wondering what their drinks were like.

“What are you thinking of getting babe?” asked Chan, looking at the menu with you.

Jun rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You nodded. “Want me to order you something?”

As Jun slid out of the booth, he said, “Yeah. You know what I like.” And with a wink, he was gone. Within five minutes, the drinks were ordered and Jun had come back to the table looking a little stressed out. You noticed because you knew him. There was something bothering him and you were just noticing. You felt a little guilty for not noticing sooner that is, if he’d been feeling stressed out earlier.

As the waiter placed your drinks on the table, you turned to Jun. “You okay?”

He gave you a nod as you slid him his drink. “Of course.” 

A few sips into their drinks, you turned to Chan. “So did you talk to your mom?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah. I told her that I’m here and that I’m staying until Monday since I don’t have class.”

“I want to see her,” you said. “It’s been awhile.”

Chan cleared his throat. “I know. I thought about it and I’m not sure it’s a good idea if the three of us are together…It’s kind of complicated since they don’t know about Jun...”

You pouted, the realization setting in. “Oh…okay. I guess you’re right...”

Chan knew you were disappointed because you hadn’t seen his parents in awhile. He knew they’d be happy to see you and vice versa. Chan looked over at Jun, who seemed more concerned with his drink than the conversation the three of you were supposed to be having right now. Chan was annoyed. He was trying to be considerate of Jun’s feelings, since he was the one who brought up that their families don’t know the nature of the relationship they were in. He was the one who brought it up in the first place and he wasn’t even paying attention. And even worse, Chan was the only one who seemed to notice. Of course, he had no problem with bringing his girlfriend to meet his parents. But he didn’t want to make Jun uncomfortable.

“Jun,” called Chan.

Jun looked up from his drink. “Hm?”

“Y/N seems to really wanna meet my parents. Do you think we could maybe meet them at a restaurant? That way we won’t have to stay for too long…”

Jun wasn’t happy about it. If he was being honest, he wanted to suggest that he take her to dinner and for him to stay at the hotel. He didn’t want to meet Chan’s family as a friend. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be and it wasn’t fair that he had to suffer on his own vacation.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess that wouldn’t hurt.” He grit his teeth and tried to convince himself that this was normal. He knew that, at the end of the day, it would be the same if the roles were reversed. If it was Jun’s family here, the scenario would be the same. Chan wouldn’t be able to come in as your boyfriend either. 

But you were smiling. You were happy and Jun supposed that that was more important.

“Okay,” said Chan. “I’ll call them in the morning.”

You turned, looking toward the dance floor. It was mostly empty; You saw one group dancing together. There was hip hop music playing and it was one of your favorite songs. Your body wanted to move. “Let’s dance.” As you scooted off of your seat, you looked at Jun expectantly.

“I’ll join in a minute. I’m just gonna finish this,” he said, pointing to the rest of his drink. In all honesty, Jun was frustrated. To be honest, he didn’t want to be here and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to dance. He watched you dance with Chan and you weren’t even dancing with him in a sexual or suggestive way. You weren’t grinding on him or anything like that but he still felt jealousy coursing through his veins. These feelings seemed unreasonable. Jun had been in this arrangement with you for a couple months now. He knew how things were supposed to be. So why was it that he still felt this ridiculous jealousy, still? Why was it that he couldn���t accept this relationship with you and with Chan? 

With a sigh, he finished your drink in one gulp. But he needed more, especially to deal with the feelings and doubts that crossed his mind. He walked over to the bar, taking a seat at the bar.

“What can I get for you?” asked the female bartender.

“Something strong,” he replied. “How about whiskey? On the rocks.”

She smiled and a moment or two later, returned with his drink. A few sips in, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Jun turned and was faced with the person that he wanted to see the least. The alcohol was starting to hit him now and he was beginning to care less and less. He rolled his eyes and he didn’t care if Chan saw him. And Chan did see but decided to be the bigger person and brush it off.

What pissed him off is that Chan approached him with raised, concerned eyebrows. Glancing back over to the dance floor and table, you were nowhere in sight. He assumed that you must’ve gone to the bathroom. 

“What’s up with you?” 

Jun shrugged his shoulders, indifferent to Chan’s concern. “What does it look like? I’m having a drink, like everyone else here.” He took another sip. From Chan’s point of view, it seemed more like a gulp than anything else. 

Chan looked back at the table and glanced at you. “Why don’t you come drink it at the table...with us? Y/N’s in the bathroom but she’ll be back in a second.”

Jun sighed, swirling the ice around in his glass. “I’m just having a good time over here. I’m enjoying the vibes and the scenery. I can’t even do that?” 

Chan looked at the now empty glass Jun had in his hand. He scoffed as Jun ordered another. “Never mind…”

“Do you have a problem with me?”

“No,” said Chan. “If you weren’t in the mood to dance, I get it. But I don’t understand why you left the table to come over here and down a whole drink in two minutes...”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good glass of whiskey. You should try it. Don’t be so uptight.”

With that, Jun placed his new glass in Chan’s hands. “Here, have some.” Jun cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Chan raised his eyebrows, curious at the direction the conversation was going.“What?”

“Don’t you get jealous?”

“Sometimes...but I try not to let it get the best of me.”

Jun pouted. “You’re her favorite.”

Chan couldn’t believe his ears. Was Jun serious? Was he actually saying these words in all seriousness? “Are you fucking kidding, Junhee? She literally left me for you. What we had was perfect and she left me and went running back to you! Did you forget about that or do you have a selective memory? You're the favorite here!”

Jun pouted. “It just seems like she always gravitates to you...”

“All night she’s been checking on you and wondering if you’re okay. In fact, I haven’t even been able to enjoy myself tonight because she’s been so concerned about you and your shitty mood!”

“She would do the same for you because that’s how she is…”

Chan ignored him. “Why are you so insecure? Can't you see that she's been concerned about you this whole time?”

“I wanted to take this trip and make it special just for the two of us and you just had to come and mess it all up!”

“Stop yelling.”

“I’m not yelling!”

“Well you’re clearly upset with me. Honestly, if you wanted your own time why did you let me come? Why lie to her and act like you're okay with me showing up if that's not true? Were you just trying to make her happy?” he asked. 

“Of course I was trying to make her happy. I’m always trying to make her happy…”

“And you thought you’d make her happy by lying to her and leading her on? Looks like you’re doing a great job.” Chan couldn’t help but to let out a deep sigh. “You know, I thought you agreed to this because you thought it would be good for the three of us. I thought you were finally coming to accept things and make this work. I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But now I see I was wrong...”

Chan would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. He thought that maybe he and Jun could be friends. He thought that after the plane ride and the conversation they’d had that they’d finally be able to get along, not only for your sake but because they genuinely wanted to. But it was becoming more and more clear that Chan was dreaming and he needed to wake up from this dream.

Wake up, Yuchan...

*

Tagged: @hxnsoliee

[ryik-the-writer]

THE AUDACIOUS STORYBROOKE MIRROR ADVICE COLUMNIST (WEDNESDAY PAPER EDITION) In which Lacey French is a smutty advice columnist for the Storybrooke Mirror.

Ch. 4: Lacey has a conversation with one of her biggest opposers, followed by an interlude with Gold

A03

Wednesday morning came too soon, but Lacey had met the deadline for her column, and she still had a job when she walked into her office.

“Racy Lacey,” Cruella had responded when she sent in the final edit. “When did you become so angelic?”

“Stuff it,” she said to her secondary editor.

Glass’s feedback was mutual.

“Well kid, I admit I had some doubts,” he said just as Lacey was about to scream. “But you pulled it off. We’re getting decent comments on the new column, especially from the higher up.”

“You mean from her majesty,” Lacey spat, despising the woman who got her into this who mess.

“The mayor is pleased, yes,” Glass relayed with a slight warning to his voice.

Lacey ignored it of course, but she didn’t want to talk about that horrid woman any longer.

“What did you think?” she asked, running a finger over a book on his desk.

Glass had the audacity to laugh. “You haven’t asked me that since you were an intern.”

She turned a harsh glare at him and Glass finally put her out of her misery.

“I thought you put a lot of heart into it, and I know it wasn’t easy stepping into something so different from what you’re used to.”

“You’re fucking telling me,” Lacey muttered undetected.

“It’s a heavy subject, I mean good God Lace, did you pick this one to get back at me?”

“Maybe.” Lacey teased.

He let it slide and stood, cueing that there conversation was coming to an end.

“Well you did good, and, well, I’m proud of you kid.”

That was indeed something she hadn’t heard since she was a bright-eyed intern back in high school, and something she hadn’t heard from anyone but him.

Not even from her own father.

“Don’t get mushy on me, Delicate-as-Glass,” she snarked, enjoying the way he bristled from the use of her nickname from him.

“Easy,” he warned, but he more important things to do than lecture his most wild employee on respect.

“Anyway, I think we can start adding one of those with your usual debauchings, and that should keep you in the clear.

It was just as she suspected, but she complained simply to put on a show and then let the matter rest. She’d have to work with Gold some more, which she had no problem with at all.

Though it would seem their attempt at a romantic relationship was going to need some time.

Sunday came around and Lacey hadn’t seen nor heard hide or hair of him since their drink.

As Lacey walked the streets of Storybrooke, an attempt to get her thoughts in order, she but decided she’d visit him that night for more help on her “fluff” article, and maybe some feedback on her smutty one.

Bells rung cleanly through the air as church services let out and Lacey scrunched her nose. The religious zealots in Storybrooke were her biggest haters. It wasn’t uncommon that she’d get some sort of email warning of the damnation of her soul or the obstruction of the town’s youth.

Lacey laughed aloud as she thought of the latter, certain Storybrooke’s youth found their first form of porn in a much more modern way – a fact she often wrote as reply in her emails on the subject.

“Glad to see you’re in good spirits, Miss French.”

Lacey’s grin melted into an annoyed frown at the familiar, very unwelcomed voice.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered as her most vocal opposer approached: Mother Superior.

The head nun of Storybrooke’s covenant had her finger in the grand pie that was Storybrooke and was quick to take down anything she could pinpoint as “sinful.” Such measures included removing a majority of “inappropriate” books from the town’s school libraries (the public one had been closed for years), mandating separate PE classes at said schools, and worse, writing a religious reminder about the wages sin in Storybrooke’s Sunday paper—Lacey’s fucking territory!

“Morning,” Lacey greeted vilely, glancing over her shoulder. “And…goodbye.” She began to walk away, but was halted by more of the pious nun’s words.

“I was interested to see your choice of column’s this week,” she spoke. “Much more effective than the sinful trash you usually post.”

Lacey swung around on her heal, letting out a fake gasp.

“And here I thought you hated my work,” she gave the nun a plastic smile. “Good to hear you read my columns regularly.”

Mother Superior bristled, already losing her battle with the spicy Lacey French.

“You—you obviously can stop your sinful ways if you give yourself the chance. You could really help people instead of leading them down the path of—”

“I do help people,” Lacey hissed. “Sex, intimacy, closeness, all of those things are important to people, and they come to me for help because unlike you I’m not going to shame them.”

The head nun went quiet and Lacey thought for a moment she’d won this fight and could go about her day in peace, but then a wicked grin spread over Mother Superior’s face and Lacey knew her day was about to get much worse.

“People seek your insight because you’re an easy slut who has whored herself out expertly.”

She said it. The W-word Lacey hated with a passion. The word that was always aimed at her.

She tried to hide the impact it had on her. No one, not even a pillar of the fucking community, was going to get under her skin.

“At least people read my expert advice. From what I seen they shred your little letter of conviction up and donate it to the animal shelter for bedding.”

Mother Superior’s face turned green and her mouth opened again to comment when another familiar figure added their appeal.

“Mother Superior,” Gold greeted darkly. “I do hope since you’ve found time to invade Miss French’s business then you’ve found time to gather the rent for tomorrow.”

The head nun’s expression turned pale. Her mouth failed to work and Lacey found some secret pleasure in her downfall.

“O-of course, Mr. Gold,” she finally replied, giving Lacey one last dirty look before she dashed away to the convent.

Lacey snorted, spinning around to face Gold.

“Thanks cutie pie, but I was handling myself just fine.”

Gold shrugged. “I never miss a moment to remind that gnat of a woman of her place.”

She chuckled at that, though the sting of the nun’s words were still wearing off.

Gold noticed her shift in mood and searched for an out.

“I was…going to call you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Well neither did you.”

“Ugh,” Lacey groaned. “We wrote a column, not slept together, let’s drop it.”

Gold’s face heated and he went quiet.

Lacey sighed, knowing she’d already made the situation between them more awkward than it already was.

“Look,” she said, “I have a few fluff columns I need to go through. How about I come by your place later and you see what you can do.”

Still flustered, Gold could only nod.

“Great,” Lacey said. “I’ll see you then.”

Gold watched her leave, the clanking of her high heels matching the thumping of his heart.

So far there relationship was a sort of business casual agreement, but there was the “what if” factor floating cleanly over them.

His attraction for her was clear between them, but exactly how she felt was still unknown.

For all he knew she was simply using him, but at least it was for his mind and not for his heart.

He was becoming content with their relationship, but he was a lonely soul who would one day want more. What would happen when he tried to take that step? Would it be the end of them?

Unbeknownst to him, the same thought was on Lacey’s mind.

No one had ever stood up for her like that before, and there was a certain tastefulness watching him snarl at that gnat of a nun.

She’d admit that Gold was attractive in his own way. Lean, a decent stature, nicely grayed out, and those eyes. Damn his eyes. The color of whiskey and just as addictive.

She found herself grinning like a freaking teenager as she thought of her unofficial business partner and her growing attraction for him.

It only occurred to her as she got halfway to her apartment that she had spoken to him completely in the open and felt absolutely no remorse or concern.

 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Okay, how about this one: Racy Lacey, I’m at my wits in with my new boyfriend—oh never mind, this one’s smut-worthy too.”

Gold scoffed. They’d been looking through emails for the past hour. They were almost though a whole bottle of wine, most of which was drunk by Lacey. Gold avoided the alcohol as much as possible less he embarrass himself.

Lacey seemed to be holding her own though, mostly. She was walking barefoot through his living room, pacing back and forth as she read emails off her phone.

It was a lovely site and very distracting.

“Your mind goes straight to the gutter, doesn’t it?” Gold said, his stomach immediately twisting with anxiety.  

It was the first time he’d attempted to joke with her and, judging by the snort that followed, she took it fairly well.

“Well, people write me for one thing,” Lacey shrugged, falling back beside him on the couch. “So the gutter is a good place to go.”

He chortled, grateful her sense of humor ran deep.

Lacey stared at him over the rim of her glass, curious.

“What about you?” she inquired. “Where does yours goes?”

Gold choked a bit on the sip of wine he’d taken. Not embarrassing himself was starting to go out the window, it would seem.

“S-somewhere more innocent than where yours is,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Shouldn’t we get back to the column?”

Lacey crawled closer until she was mere inches from him. She crossed her legs, leaning one hand on her knee as she watched him grow increasingly nervous.

“Come on, converse with me,”

Gold resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lacey French was guiltily tipsy in his living room, and getting increasingly bold at that.

“Miss French…”

“For Christ’s sake it’s Lacey,” she slurred. “We’re defiantly on a first-name basis, I mean come on.”

Gold chuckled nervously. Where they really at that stage already?

“I suppose we are. Now the column…”

“Ugh,” Lacey groaned, setting her glass on the floor beside the couch. “All work, no play. What’s the matter, afraid you’ll fall even more in love with me?”

Gold froze. Honestly, he could faint. Lacey was certainly having a field day with the knowledge of his affections from his drunken email earlier last week.  

She wasn’t mocking him, that much he could tell, but he did increasingly wonder the authenticity of her affections towards him, if there were any at all. She’d probably regret her words tomorrow, but he wouldn’t remind her of them if didn’t bring them up.

“It’d certainly be a challenge not to,” he admitted.

Lacey’s smile stretched further, her chest fluttering.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Lacey simply wanted to explore this oddity she had developed with Gold. Either way, she was about to make a very drastic decision.

“Hey,” she whispered, chuckling. “How about …”

Gold tilted his head, charmed at the rosiness on her cheeks. “Yes?”

She stared into those eyes, their color so tantalizing and bright.

“…kiss me.”

Gold’s smirk slowly disappeared, his chest seizing.

“I…I beg your pardon?”

“K-I-S-S,” Lacey repeated with a smack of her lips. “me.”

Gold could only stared at the scarlet-faced goddess in front of him, the color of her face making the blue of her eyes stand out all the more.

He did want to kiss her—Gods knows he did—but was this the right time?

Lacey seemed to think so as she leaned forward, expecting his lips. In retaliation, he leaned back, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

Lacey caught on quickly, pausing when she saw the uncertainty on Gold’s face.

“Yikes, sorry,” she muttered. “You’re not going to catch anything, damn.”

Gold was taken aback by the sudden malice in her tone and, he saw, the flicker of shame in her icy blues.

“What? Lacey what are you talking about?”

Lacey stared glassily at her bare feet, shrugging nonchalantly.

“You said ‘who knows what I have’ during our fight, remember?”

With flaming discomfort, he recalled exactly what she was talking about.

It had been a flare up, a way to push her out as he recovered from his embarrassment, to keep her at arms-length, he previously convinced himself.

The reason was pointless. He’d insulted Lacey, humiliated her really.

It didn’t take a vivid imagination to know that her early conversation with Mother Superior was only a sample what she went through daily. And he’d was no different than the fools in town who jumped to conclusions about virtue.

Her head was still bent, one of her fingers circling a patch of leather on the couch. Gold felt sick that he had made her feel any level of guilt when she shouldn’t at all.

“Lacey,” he said quietly. “I am so sorry. I was foolish. I didn’t mean what I said. I shouldn’t have said it.”  

Lacey shrugged, uncrossing her legs and made her way to the window.

“It doesn’t matter.” She replied, the phrase her constant companion whenever she was compared to someone with such loose morals.

Lacey was as sex positive as they came and encouraged many of her readers to be comfortable and experimental  with their sexuality, but her own experience came from a vivid imagination. Her own standards were extremely high, and her partners very few.

Of course, that didn’t stop the many she turned down from spreading callous rumors about her when she refused their beds, and of course being a sex columnist didn’t lend an the most positive opinion.

She’d learned to deal with the snarls and the crude comments whispered behind her back. She’d eye her opposers down just as damningly as they did her and came out triumph.

Still, the isolation didn’t stop the wave of loneliness that hit her from time to time.

“It does too matter,” Gold fought. “You don’t deserve what I said to you Lacey, what anyone says to you at that!”

“I’m used to it—”

“You shouldn’t be,” Gold cut her off. “You are a beautiful, intelligent person Lacey. And you do something every day that not many people have the ability to.”

Lacey snorted but smiled none the less.

“You’re so brave to do it,” Gold said, his eyes lowering. “Braver than I am.”

Lacey eyed him, cocking her head mischievously.

“I think you’re pretty brave,” she said. “Not too many people have the gall to have Racy Lacey in their house, especially with such nosy neighbors.”

“Damn the neighbors,” he said.

She scooted closer, her breath warm and acidic on his lips.

“I think you’re pretty handsome too,” she smirked.

Gold scoffed. His looks were the last thing he’d credit himself over.

“I’m serious,” Lacey said, her painted nails trailing up his neck. “Especially your hair…”

Gold accepted her touch with earnest, his predatory eyes fluttering shut as he pressed into her hand.

She watched him, a man starved for human affection. Just like her.

She carefully leaned forward, letting her lips brush against his, testing his consent. When he didn’t pull away, she strengthened the kiss, pressing her lip solidly into his as her hands tangled in his locks.

Gold returned it, lost in her taste and desperate for her touch.

They separated for air, Lacey’s hand have gripped the collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” she husked. “What if we…”

He was no fool to not know what she wanted.

He had wanted to protect, but found out she didn’t need protection, not from the town at least.

His own heart was damaged, and Lacey had begun to fix the chips and dents.

He was still hesitant, still ashamed by his behavior toward her earlier, but Lacey was pawing at his shirt and he could think of nothing else but her.

He kissed her again, his hand feeling down her hip.

Lacey was quite receptive. She uncrossed her legs and crawled into his lap, pushing him against the arm of the couch.

He captured her face with one hand while he explored her body with the other. His hands came up to her top, stopping for her permission. Her hands met his and she all but ripped off her shirt, her nipple standing at full attention through her silk bra.

Gold’s hands ran up her back, grazing her breasts and gliding over her stomach, her side, down her thigh and under the fabric of her jeans.

She clung to his shoulders as she let her tongue dance with his. Wetness was already pooling between her legs. This was escalating quickly and yet she had no intention of holding back.

He swallowed when his erection pressed against her thigh. She desired him and she needed him. Now.

With more skill than he could have imagined she managed to get her jeans off in a messy tangle, laughing as he helped her.

His fingers graced against the fabric of her panties, applying just the right kind of pressure to her clit.

“Gold,” she keened, attacking his belt and leaning off of him just enough to help pull his boxers down.

She felt his hard erection twitch, pressing against her flesh, his warmth radiating.

She kissed him again. He groaned and bucked his hips against her. She moved her hands between their bodies to free his throbbing erection from his pants. He groaned when she wrapped her hands around his cock. She wanted to taste him. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted to bring him pleasure and see it written all over his face.

He trembled a little, grateful she had no qualms with being in charge.

“You are so sexy,” he groaned as she grabbed his cock with one hand and fighting between moving her panties aside and steadying herself with the other. Feeling how good he felt when he finally slipped inside her made all annoyance she felt slip away.

They both sighed and she captured both his hands, pulling them up and behind his head. She entwined her fingers with his and pressed his hands against the couch as she bend forward to kiss him.

She rode him hard, licking, nibbling, sucking at this mouth while she did so. He was hers and she wouldn’t allow him to run off again. He came before she could reach her climax, but feeling his hot seed spilling inside of her brought her over the edge again.

She collapsed on top of him, releasing his hands to play with his hair. And they just breathed together.

Then she started laughing, a throaty ring that made his heart pound.

“Well, Goldie Locks,” murmured as she played with his curls. “I think I have my inspiration for my next column.”

He chuckled and held her ease down so that she was lying on top of him.

“Such a shame you still have to write the tame one, you’re deadline is tomorrow morning, yes?”

Lacey groaned and buried her head in his chest. He kissed her curls in reply.

He was indeed going to enjoy this new relationship with Lacey French.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I’ve been trying to get these two to bang for over a month now, so boom, they banged. I can’t write a smut scene to save my life.

[quicksilversquared]

A Christmas Liar

After Ms. Bustier mentioned the annual school charity fundraiser in class, Lila seems determined to raise funds for her own "charity", aka herself. There's no way that Marinette is going to let that fly, but how successful will she be in taking Lila down in time for the holidays?

links in the reblog

It started with a normal morning in Ms. Bustier's homeroom class.

"As you all know, it's fast approaching the holiday season, and our collège always does a fundraiser for a charity before Christmas," Ms. Bustier told the class, smiling widely. The first few cut-out paper snowflakes had appeared in the classroom window that morning, and they all knew that the collection would only grow as December went on. "So remember to remind your parents to check their emails for details soon! Our student representatives have been hard at work brainstorming what to do this year."

Marinette smiled, even as she kept drawing in her sketchbook. Jagged Stone had commissioned an outfit for his Christmas present to Penny from her, and wanted the design ready to be sent to his seamstress as soon as possible so that he could have it ready in plenty of time. He had told her not to rush, of course- "you have so much going on, and I don't want to put you behind in your studies!"- but Marinette wanted to try to get things done early.

After all, akumas could appear and eat up her free time without any notice, and so she was going to take advantage of any extra time when she could.

"Oh, a charity fundraiser?" Lila asked from the back of the room, and Marinette mentally sighed before setting her pencil down. Clearly she wasn't going to get anything done now, if she had to deal with Lila's nonsense, and her nonsense-o-meter was going wild. "That's so wonderful! Do you think that- oh, no, I suppose it would come off a little self-appreciating, never mind..."

"No, go ahead!" Ms. Bustier reassured her quickly. "What is it that you wanted to ask, Lila?"

"Well, I was wondering if maybe I could put forth one of my charities to be considered for the fundraiser's proceeds," Lila told the class, and even without turning around, Marinette could picture the way that Lila would press a hand to her chest delicately, doing her best to look bashful. Adrien's eye roll from in front of her told Marinette that her mental picture probably wasn't very far off. "But I suppose that could come off as, well..."

Ms. Bustier perked up. "Oh, how could I have forgotten that we had someone in our class who had done so much charity work before? I don't think it would come off as self-serving at all! In fact, it could add an extra connection and an element of interest to the whole thing if the school picked one of your charities. Marinette, could-"

"Student council has already settled on a charity for this year's fundraiser," Marinette said at once, not even bothering to look up. She could see exactly where this was heading, and she was going to put a stop to it. Now.

In front of her, she could see Adrien's hastily-hidden grin out of the corner of her eye.

"But this is special, Marinette," Ms. Bustier implored. "Surely they'll understand and want to support a fellow student's charity efforts! This is a pretty unique opportunity!"

"We've had multiple meetings about it, thinned our selections down, did all of the background checks and verification on our final pick, filled out all of the paperwork to submit to Mr. Damocles, and let the charity know so that we could get more information to post around," Marinette informed her, because seriously? Ms. Bustier was going to fall for it, just like that? Also, she was super glad that she had pushed for the council to make the decision early this year, because at this time the previous year, they had been working on finalizing everything still, which would have made a last-minute change like this possible. It wouldn't have been fun, or easy, but it could have been possible. "We can't change it now."

Lila let out a small sigh from the back, and Marinette turned around just in time to see her shoulders slumping. "Oh, that's really a shame, then. For a minute there, I was picturing how much good I- we could do for the children in Africa with a bit of extra funding, but I suppose if they've already picked a charity..."

Ms. Bustier glanced from Marinette to Lila. "Marinette, do you think that we could do two charities instead of one, perhaps? It would just be so nice to be able to support Lila's charity!"

Marinette was honestly going to scream.

"I'm afraid that that would make things too complicated," she said instead, politely as she could and with as little teeth-gritting as possible. "We had a couple fundraiser activities in mind- which we agreed was important, in case an akuma attack keeps people away from an in-person event- plus a couple volunteering opportunities that we wanted to offer. Plus, there would be all of the paperwork and the background checks that would have to be done to add in another charity, and that's not exactly a short process. It's a lot of work."

There was also the fact that Lila didn't have any charities, and any money they earned would- if she managed to sneak her way through their careful screening process- no doubt go straight into her own pockets.

"Oh, I could fill out paperwork so that you guys don't have to!" Lila offered eagerly. "I don't mind, it's for the kids-"

"And the email letting parents know about our fundraiser and our selected charity is already scheduled to go out today," Marinette continued, raising her voice just ever-so-slightly to drown Lila out and making a mental note to talk to Aurore to actually get that email sent over lunch. It had originally been planned for tomorrow, actually, but Marinette wasn't going to give Lila any ins. "So the deadline for any changes has passed." She pasted on her best fake smile, trying not to let any signs of a smirk through as she looked back at Lila. "It's just not possible for this year, I'm afraid. Maybe you can bring it up for consideration earlier next year."

"I suppose that's fair," Ms. Bustier agreed. She smiled over at Lila. "It's my own fault for not bringing it up earlier, it just slipped my mind. Hopefully your charities will still get plenty of support! But right now, we're going to move on to today's lesson. If everyone could please get out your notebooks, we're going to start with a quick video..."

Marinette smiled to herself as she put her sketchbook away and opened up her notebook to a fresh page. This probably wasn't the last that she would hear about Lila's so-called "charities", but at least Ms. Bustier had dropped the subject and she wouldn't be getting pressure from that angle.

Now she just had to be ready for Lila's other attempts to get her hands on charity money.

  "I am so glad that you already had stuff all finalized," Adrien said in Marinette's ear as they headed for their next class. Lila was ahead of them, surrounded by several of their classmates. "I got worried for a minute there when Ms. Bustier hopped on the Lila's charity thing."

"I'm just glad that it's a school-wide thing, not just a class-wide fundraiser," Marinette admitted, glancing around to make sure that no one was going to overhear them. She had managed to get out of being blamed for deliberately denying Lila's "charity" a chance to get more money because she wasn't the only person in charge of the fundraiser, and she didn't want anyone in their class mishearing and blowing things out of proportion. Again. "I mean, it's obvious that Lila jumped on that because I'm class representative and she wanted to put me in a bad spot, but she couldn't when I'm just one of the people involved in that process."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. I was so sure that she was going to drop it after you mentioned the background check and verification thing, though, and then she didn't. Which is...weird, honestly."

"Not really. If we tried going forward and I was the one doing the check, she would probably just say that I was making stuff up about her charity out of jealousy or spite and that was why it failed or something." Marinette had thought the same, honestly, but it became apparent pretty quickly what Lila was up to. Lila wasn't nearly as sly as she thought she was. "I'm surprised that she didn't jump on that and complain that I was just making the background check thing up because I was doubting her. Ignoring, of course, that we want to have statistics in our flyers and posters and emails about how the money is used, and how much work they get done, and their rating by a charity watchdog. That's standard."

"Which is why she wanted to do her own paperwork," Adrien added. He made a face. "I bet that she's still going to try to piggyback off of the fundraiser somehow, or at least rope people into donating some of their own money. I already heard Rose bringing it up, and Alya mentioned something to Nino about posting something on the Ladyblog."

Marinette winced. That wasn't good. She would have to forward the link to their charity watchdog site to Alya later on, maybe under the guise of providing a resource to get all sorts of charity statistics at once to put in her posting. That didn't guarantee that Alya would look at it, of course, but it was worth a try.

(Also, she could use her throwaway account to point out the charity's questionable status, and then- well, hope that other people would see her post and upvote it.)

"She's really going too far now," Adrien said after a moment, pulling Marinette out of her brainstorming of how she could keep Lila from pocketing a bunch of charity money. "I mean, she has been for a while, especially when she tried to get you expelled, but this is just the cherry on top of a heap of awful. I just don't know... I mean, she's sunk her claws in really deep now, I don't know how to fix it. I guess I should have recognized it earlier, but..."

"Well, there's no point in worrying about what we should have done earlier now," Marinette said as they went through the door for their next class, though she couldn't help but feel a bit validated, since she had wanted to stop Lila's lies ages ago. "We can brainstorm later, if you can get away for lunch. I was going to talk to Aurore then anyway."

Adrien looked puzzled for a moment, then caught on with a grin. "Aha, right, since she's on student council too. Is she the one in charge of submitting paperwork?"

"No, that was me. She's in charge of sending out the emails to families." Marinette grinned up at him. "And I bet that we can do a bit of damage control with that."

-0-0-0-0-

Aurore was all too willing to bring her lunch over to the Dupain-Cheng bakery instead of eating in the school cafeteria. After all, she told them as they headed upstairs, her lunch was leftovers and best served warm, and the cafeteria microwave was gross.

Marinette could believe that. Aurore had already floated the idea of setting up either a roll of paper towels near the microwave so that people could cover their dishes to keep the contents from exploding all over, or going the more environmentally-friendly route of having microwave plate covers instead, which could then be washed daily in the industrial dish washers that the cafeteria kitchen had. Clearly it was a Big Deal for her.

"You said you wanted to talk about the email right?" Aurore asked finally, finishing her grumbling about someone who had apparently microwaved fish and ugh, the smell was awful. "I thought it was meant to be going out tomorrow? I have a draft that's almost complete, I was just going to review it tonight to make sure that it was perfect, but do you need something changed?"

"We had a situation come up in our class this morning," Marinette told her, leading the way into their kitchen. Her mom had left out food for her and Adrien, it just had to be warmed up and assembled. "I don't know how much you've heard about the new girl in our class..."

Aurore frowned. "Lila? The one with the questionable stories?"

Adrien laughed. "Okay, so we aren't the only ones with working brains in the school, that's good to know. Yeah, her."

It didn't take long to get Aurore caught up, and predictably, she was furious at the idea of Lila trying to hijack their fundraiser funds.

"This is going to go one of two ways, I know it," she told them, pulling out her laptop and getting it set up next to her on the table. "Either this girl is going to make up a charity- name, mission, and all- or she's going to find a charity that already exists, and then she'll claim credit for it. The first one is easy enough to disprove, because no one will be able to find anything about the charity. We could just put a reminder in the email about checking charities out before donating to them, and then enter that link we've been using. But the second one...well, she could use their rating and reputation to collect money, and then- if I'm reading her character right- keep it all for herself."

They all thought about that.

"Well, if Alya posts anything on the Ladyblog, in theory any donations would have to be electronically, though a website," Marinette pointed out after a minute. "As for in-person donations, I would say that people should use checks instead of cash, but I don't know how many people use checks anymore, and besides, that's not going to stop her from cashing them if she wants."

Adrien made a choked, horrified noise in the back of his throat. "It- it won't? How do you even know that?"

"But it might deter her, since that's a traceable crime," Aurore pointed out, her eyes gleaming. She snapped her fingers. "And as for the Ladyblog- if she's capable of creating a website that looks decent, she might give Alya a link for that. So that's still a problem-"

"-unless we notice that and bring it to the attention of the police!" Adrien exclaimed, sitting up straight. He winced. "I'd hate to get Alya in trouble, but otherwise people will be thinking that they're doing something good and helping people in need when actually, they're just giving Lila spending money. And if she told them that Lila gave her the link, then she'd get off pretty fast."

Marinette nodded. Alya would probably be a thundercloud that they had gone to the police first instead of her, but she couldn't say that they hadn't warned her. She just never listened when it came to Lila.

"So we can put in a line reminding people to check charities before they donate and to make sure that any links they follow for charities go to the actual website," Aurore finished. Her fingers tapped away at her keyboard. "My older brother is a computer whiz, so I can text him and ask about things people should look for to make sure that a site is the real deal. Then I can get that typed up and sent during study hall, so it'll go out today."

Marinette could only grin. Maybe Aurore could be hotheaded at times, but there was no denying that she could really pull through. "That would be great."

  Unsurprisingly, Lila sold a sob story to Alya about her charity's website being down at the moment, so she couldn't provide a link right away.

"We're working on it, of course, because this is the best time of the year to get donations and we're going to fall so far behind with every day we miss, but the entire system is down and our tech guy is having trouble," Lila told Alya, looking positively wilted. "It's so upsetting! The longer it's down, the fewer people find out about our work, and the less budget we have to work with next year."

"That's terrible!" Alya exclaimed, frowning, and Marinette exchanged an exasperated look with Adrien. "I just wish there was a way to help..."

"Maybe you could post about our school charity instead, for the time being," Marinette suggested dryly. "Since Lila's charity is on the table for next year anyway."

"But we need budget for this year!" Lila repeated, and- yep, she was gritting her teeth. The glare that she flashed Marinette left no question that she had been trying to set up some sort of fake website and the email the night before had thrown her off. Either she was trying to make a more convincing website or- more likely- she was just hoping to wait until the reminder to be careful had faded from people's minds. Or she had had to abandon the online idea entirely in favor of throwing a pity party for herself in hopes of getting cash donations with the help of their classmates, if that hadn't already been the plan all along. "If we wait for a maybe next year, we could go into debt and collapse!"

Alya was looking worried now. "Marinette, are you sure that the student council can't switch charit-"

"It's all set up. We can't change anything, Alya, we established that yesterday." Marinette spared a glance at Lila, who was clearly working to keep a poker face. "Maybe Max can help you with your website issues, he's quite good at stuff like that. We wouldn't want you missing out on donations, after all."

"Oh, I couldn't," Lila simpered, glancing towards Max as well. "We, uh- well, my tech guy is back in Italy, so they wouldn't be able to work together, and he's quite protective of the system. Plus we were in the middle of upgrades when everything crashed, so that makes everything more complicated."

"We'll figure something out, Lila," Alya promised, patting the other girl's arm. Marinette took that as her cue to leave, but she wasn't going to go far. She needed to be able to overhear, after all. "We don't want those kids in Africa to suffer, after all! We can brainstorm before class."

Adrien caught Marinette's eye as she came back to her seat. "It sounds like she's just going to go another way, but isn't about to give up."

"No, she's got the idea of getting money into her head, and she's not about to give it up." Marinette kept her voice low, so that no one would overhear. "Which means that we need to come at the problem at a different angle. Any suggestions?"

Adrien looked unexpectedly delighted at being consulted, but then he paused, clearly not coming up with any ideas. "Uh."

"My first instinct would be to try to warn Alya and Rose and whoever else is going to get sucked in, but we all know how well that would go over," Marinette said, just to fill in the space. "They would clamp down and refuse to listen."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. But I like what you did yesterday, where you made it sound like you would have gone along if you could and suggested trying next year. Then everyone thought that you weren't fighting against her-"

"-and was actually willing to listen!" Marinette finished, smiling. It was an approach that Tikki had suggested, and she was glad that it had worked. Well, sort of. It had worked in the moment, but just- apparently- pushed the problem off for later. "Yeah, that was nice."

"Maybe we could do something similar now," Adrien suggested. "And offer to be helpful by providing that link still. Like, it doesn't need the website, right? Just the charity name."

Marinette grinned. "Right. And there's no way that she can get around not telling anyone her charity's name. And if she does...well, either it's made up, or she's going to pick a real charity and we can find the real website."

"And congratulate Lila on her site getting back up so quickly," Adrien added with a small laugh. "It's a pain to deal with her, but I'm actually curious about what she's planning on doing going forward. Like, how long can she play this game? She's going to run out of escapes soon enough."

"Yeah, I don't know..." Marinette trailed off as Alya slid into her seat, and she and Adrien exchanged one last look before he turned back to the front, greeting Nino as his best friend entered the classroom.

"Man, I can't believe what bad luck Lila has, to have her charity's website crash at a time like this," Alya said glumly, sliding into her seat. "Lila is stressed about it, of course, but she has so many other obligations for her other charity work that she can't go out and do a collection, not that it would be easy with her throat still recovering from her laryngitis surgery. She can't be out in the cold for more than ten minutes without it causing a ton of pain, which can't be fun at all."

...Naturally.

"I want to help, but if we don't have a working link to put on the Ladyblog, I just don't know..." Alya trailed off. "I mean, we could do a door-to-door, I guess, but that only ever gets fairly minimal donations. And there's so many people who set up near the Eiffel Tower, we wouldn't have a chance. But- oh!" Alya perked up as another thought hit her. "We could put posters up at school, so more people know about it and maybe help us!"

Yeah, how about no.

"That's actually against school rules," Marinette said idly, flipping through her notebook as she waited for Ms. Bustier to call for a start to class. "All posters posted in the building have to be approved by Student Council normally, so that the walls don't get too cluttered, but there's an amendment to that that say that if the school is doing a charity fundraiser, posters promoting other charities can't go up during that time. I think it's to keep the effort from getting too splintered and distracted."

Alya slumped. "Oh."

That was not actually a lie, though clearly Adrien thought it was, if the slight frown on his face was anything to go by. Marinette had picked through the guidelines to make sure that she knew every rule that she could use to turn Lila's attempts aside, and apparently the Student Council had come up with and voted to implement that particular rule at some point in the past.

"Maybe you could do a surprise collection," Marinette suggested. "As a Christmas gift to Lila." She was improvising, admittedly, but this would be a good way to keep Alya and Rose and whoever else was getting sucked in from asking Lila too much and giving her chances to control the narrative. "If you ask her what the name of her charity is, and then you can use the website that we were using on Student Council to look at charities- it has all sorts of stats that you could use, information about charities and their work. That way, you don't need to bother Lila for all that when she's so busy."

"Oh, good idea!" Alya exclaimed. She grabbed Marinette's arm. "You know, none of the rest of us has ever organized any sort of charity fundraiser before- if we put you in charge of that-"

"I'm already busy, Alya," Marinette pointed out. She wasn't about to go make a fool of herself collecting money for a charity that didn't exist, not when she had a million other things to do. "The fundraiser for the school is already going to take up all of my time. I can send you the link that we used, but that's it."

"Oh, but-"

"She already said no, Alya," Adrien cut in, so Marinette didn't have to. "Marinette was telling me about that entire process yesterday, and it sounds like a lot of work and planning to pull something off at the level the school is planning. Asking her to plan another thing on top of that for you, instead of doing it yourself- that's not fair to her."

"I just thought that it might be a good way to repair the bad blood between the two of them!" Alya objected, frowning. "Since Marinette wasn't very welcoming when Lila first arrived."

Marinette narrowly withheld a snort. Gee, I wonder why?

"But if you're busy, I guess you can wait to try to mend that bridge later," Alya added. She sighed. "We probably won't be able to raise as much money, though, since we don't have your experience."

"Mmm," Marinette managed noncommittally, ignoring the clear attempt at a guilt-trip in favor of checking her email on her phone. Alya really had been spending too much time with Lila if she was starting to act just the same. Hopefully she would cut that out after Lila's lies had been exposed and everyone realized what a manipulator she was.

Marinette's phone lit up with a text, and she didn't hesitate to open it at once.

Adrien: Remember, if you commit homicide, you won't be around to gloat when people discover the lies.

Marinette snorted in amusement.

Marinette: I'm going to gloat for a solid MONTH after she gets found out. I wasn't very welcoming? Try SHE was a bully from the start and I wasn't about to tolerate that.

In front of her, Adrien's head gave a tiny nod as he put his phone away, just in time to start class. Marinette locked her phone and put it away, resigning herself to what was probably going to be a week of poorly-concealed efforts to get her into the extra fundraising before Alya either dropped it or realized that something was up with Lila's "charity".

At least now she had Adrien on her side.

  The school fundraiser was going well as they marched steadily closer towards the holidays, their online portal showing just how much money had already been raised by people going through the link that they had both sent out and posted on the school site. There was going to be a bake sale before the break too, with each family asked to donate two dozen cookies for them to sell at their booths near City Hall and (courtesy of Chloe) in the Grand Paris.

Marinette was really happy. People were being generous, and it really was a very deserving charity to receive the funds. On top of that, Adrien had asked for her help in baking his family's two dozen cookies, so they would get to hang out together.

(She was going to ignore the fact that Alya had tried to convince her to make another extra two dozen cookies because Lila "wasn't going to have time" because "all of her charity work"; that attempt had fallen flat when Marinette had just point-blank asked Alya why, exactly, Alya didn't just do that herself. At least with Adrien, he was just a novice baker and was going to be actively participating in the baking, but he just wanted help to be sure that his attempt turned out edible and it was a good excuse to hang out with one of his friends.)

And possibly best of all...well, Aurore's tech-savvy older brother had pulled through for them again.

"I was looking at the email that we had on file for Lila, and something about it just didn't seem right," Aurore told them as they sat together in a private study room in back of the library over lunch. "The domain on it, to be exact, because it was '.net' instead of, oh, I don't know, something actually related to the government. And my brother agreed, so we did a little searching."

Marinette was pretty sure that her jaw was on the ground. Next to her, Adrien wasn't doing much better. "You mean she was keeping her mom from finding out about everything school-related? I wondered how she got away with skipping so much school! And she was probably emailing as her mom, too, to confirm whatever stories she was telling."

Aurore grinned. "Exactly. So we did some digging, and found Mrs. Rossi's actual email. It's almost the same, just with a different domain. So I'm trying to think of what to send that wouldn't sound weird, because obviously we need confirmation that this is the right address so we can get Mr. Damocles to change it for the school system, but I don't want to come off as accusing or anything and have her tip Lila off accidentally."

Marinette exchanged a look with Adrien as she thought about it. "Well, we could just send the fundraiser email again with a comment about how we think that maybe her email was mis-entered before and is this one the correct one that we should be using. That's pretty straightforward and it asks for a response, and she might not even think to say anything about it to Lila."

"Ooh, I like that." Aurore typed that in at once, giving it a quick once-over to make sure that there weren't any errors and that the email had been entered correctly before sending it. "So, what else is going on in Ms. Bustier's homeroom? Anything new with the not-a-charity?"

"Alya's been confused about why our watchdog site doesn't list anything about Lila's 'charity'- she decided to go for the make-one-up route, apparently- and she's still been trying to find stuff on it just on Google, but apparently no connection has been made," Marinette told them, trying not to roll her eyes. "I know she and Rose were talking about trying to just go ahead with a collection of sorts anyway, so I forwarded an email talking about the importance of keeping track of how much money they raised, down to the last cent, in a ledger sort of thing." She couldn't hold back the grin. "Which Rose is really into. So even though they're trying to collect money for Lila still, at the end she won't be able to keep any of it because there'll be record of how much money they collected."

"Which, if we get in contact with Mrs. Rossi, we can make sure that that gets paid back in full!" Adrien exclaimed, scooping Marinette up in a hug for a long few seconds. Marinette prayed that she wouldn't turn red and make things weird. "Genius!"

"As long as Rose doesn't give that to Lila," Aurore pointed out. She raised an eyebrow at Marinette's head-shake. "No? You've already taken care of that?"

"She'll give Lila an electronic copy, but not the hard copy. I suggested that she might want to hold onto that to show what she did for future charity work. Which I still think is a good idea, even if Lila's charity is a sham. It doesn't change the fact that she was doing all of the bookkeeping."

Aurore made a face. "I am so glad that Samuel is doing our bookkeeping for the non-online donations, because that stuff is not fun. It's really fiddly, and if anything gets off..."

Marinette nodded. Things had gotten off fairly early on, and she had head Samuel- another member of Student Council- complaining about having to go through everything to figure out where his mistake was. Since then, he did regular, frequent checks so that he wouldn't have to go through absolutely everything again, just the most frequent donations. Admittedly, Rose was working with much smaller amounts of money- most people wanted more information on what they were donating to than just the name and "helping kids in Africa" if they were going to toss more than an euro or two into the collections basket- but it was still good practice.

Aurore's computer let out a ding, and she pulled up the student council email at once. "We already got a response! Mrs. Rossi says that yes, this one is correct, please keep using it and thank you for catching the error and were there any other recent emails that she might have missed. I'm going to forward this to Mr. Damocles with a message to note the change in email address, just a second- and done."

"Nice job," Marinette told her, leaning across the table to bump fists with Aurore. After a second's thought, she fist-bumped Adrien, too, so that he wouldn't feel left out. "That's one more thing off of our plates."

  Their fundraiser finished right before holiday break with a silent auction, with all of the items up for purchase having been donated by parents, teachers, extended family members, community business owners, and- in the case of an array of signed CD cases and posters- Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and several of their musician buddies, after Marinette had approached Jagged Stone with the request.

And of course, everyone was invited. Posters had been put up outside of the school and emails had been sent out, reminding everyone about the time and date and their charity, plus attaching a list of the items up for auction to get people's interest.

"My mom so wanted to make it, but work came up," Lila told several of their classmates when she arrived at the auction, looking sad. "And there were several things that she was really interested in, like the-"

"Ooh, barf, I can see what you mean," Aurore said, materializing at Marinette's side and wrinkling her nose at Lila. "That's a pretty obvious ploy to get people to buy things for her, isn't it? Or at least to pitch in some of their own money to help her, so that she won't have to pay them back."

Marinette nodded. It really was disgusting, but at least now Lila was moving off with the group towards one of the items so that they didn't have to hear her. She was steering clear of the signed Jagged Stone things, oddly enough, but maybe that would be a dead giveaway that she didn't actually know him. After all, Jagged Stone would sign anything put in front of him, so her going out of her way to buy a signed item when she was supposedly on great terms with him would be pretty strange.

"Do you think her mom actually can't make it, or Lila just assumed that she wouldn't know about the auction and didn't tell her?" Adrien asked. His arm was tucked through Marinette's, though she was pretty sure that it was just so that he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. "Is the fake email still on the list?"

Aurore nodded. "Yeah, up until this morning. I cleared it off so that there wouldn't be any confusion going forward."

"And I would place bets on Lila assuming that her mom doesn't know anything," Marinette added. "She wouldn't want to risk anyone asking her mom about her charity." She grinned and pointed as she noticed someone new stepping into the school. "And look, over there."

The other two looked. There, standing in the entryway and looking around, was Mrs. Rossi. She really didn't look much like Lila, but it was easy enough to recognize her from her official embassy photo.

(Her official embassy photo, where she wasn't listed as the actual ambassador, but just one of the embassy staff, but that- well, that was an interesting little tidbit that Marinette was going to sit on for a little bit longer.)

"Oh, she's spotted Lila," Aurore said gleefully, craning her neck to follow Mrs. Rossi as she wove through the crowds. "And- whoops, Lila sees her!"

Marinette hastily smothered a laugh. If Lila's expression was anything to go by, she definitely hadn't realized that her mom was getting emails from the school and was going to be coming. She had never seen the other girl look so pale before.

"I'd ask if I should go get some of that amazing-smelling popcorn that they're selling so that we can watch, but honestly, I kind of just want to let things take their course and find out later," Adrien said, glancing down at Marinette. "There's some pretty cool items up for auction that I want to check out."

Marinette considered that. On one hand, she wanted to watch Lila's downfall. On the other... well, she had been keeping an eye on the whole Lila fiasco for a while now, and she was kind of tired of it. It would probably be a bit awkward to watch, too, and there was no guarantee that it would happen right away, and they were too far away to hear anything besides.

...yeah, her decision was pretty well made.

"That sounds like fun," Marinette told him, before glancing over at Aurore. "What about you?"

"I might go point Mr. Damocles in her direction," Aurore commented, glancing around the crowd. "Or maybe that can wait until later, since I don't want to throw everything at Mrs. Rossi at once and disrupt the auction with an akumatization." She sent them a slightly sheepish grin. "But you know I like my gossip, so..."

Marinette had to laugh. That was so very Aurore. "All right. We'll bump into you later, then."

Aurore grinned in return, and then was off. Marinette watched her go for a moment, then let Adrien lead the way off into the crowds surrounding the tables. It was amazing to be able to sit back and relax after the past weeks of planning and making sure that everything, from the online link to the cookie sale to this, was going to go off without a hitch. They were well on track raise more money this year than they had any other year, and that was amazing.

And to think that she had had a hand in setting all of this up...well, Marinette just couldn't be prouder.

It was fun investigating all of the donations with Adrien, even though- as part of Student Council and also part of the team that had photographed and logged all of the donated items- she had seen them all before. Marinette couldn't help but peek at the bids despite herself, grinning when she saw some of the higher ones.

"This is amazing," Adrien commented once they had made the rounds and had gone to browse through the assorted refreshments available for purchase. "There were a lot of nice things donated. And people are definitely bidding plenty of money."

"Yeah, some people will spend more to win the prize than it's worth," Marinette told him. "Like with the voucher for stuff from our bakery- the top bid right now is for more than the value of the voucher. It's interesting, but I think that people see it as buying the item, and then making a donation on top. Or something, I don't know."

"That's really cool," Adrien commented, then pointed. "Oh, look, Nathalie and the Gorilla are here! They said that they might show up and do some shopping. I honestly thought that Nathalie was just saying that to be nice, because she's been sick and hasn't wanted to go out, but I guess she's been feeling better lately."

"Oh, that's good," Marinette said, before a memory made her frown. "Wait, I thought you commented on her being sick, like, three months ago. Is she still having problems?"

Adrien shrugged, but he was frowning, too. "I don't know. She had been having these weak, dizzy spells like Mom used to before she disappeared for a bit before I commented on it at school, I think. Maybe whatever treatment she was getting finally kicked in, I don't know."

Marinette frowned even deeper. Nathalie had been showing the same symptoms as Adrien's mom before she vanished? That was a really weird coincidence. And for both of them- presumably both, at least- to have those same symptoms for an extended period of time?

If Mrs. Agreste and Nathalie had been related, Marinette might have guessed that it was a genetic thing. But since they weren't- again, that was an assumption- then the chances of them both separately having the same condition...

"I cannot believe that I fell for such a manipulative, thieving, disgusting liar!"

Alya materialized at Marinette's side, clearly steaming. Rose, Mylène, and Juleka weren't far behind her. Rose looked like she was close to tears, and the other two just looked lost.

"Pardon?" Adrien asked politely, but Marinette could see the amusement glimmering in his eyes.

"Lila's been leading us all around by the nose, making up stories about her life and about her nonexistent charity- and I've missed a dozen akuma attacks because I was wandering around in the cold, trying to raise money for her! I offered to make a posting on the Ladyblog so that I could put up a link to her site to raise more money! She was probably just planning on pocketing it all!" Alya scowled deeper. "I can't believe we fell for it! And aren't you even surprised?" she demanded when neither Adrien nor Marinette reacted. "At all?"

"Are we meant to be?" Adrien asked dryly. "After Marinette's spent so long calling Lila a liar?"

Alya faltered for a moment, then scowled deeper. "You- you knew, but you didn't warn us?"

"Yes, because pointing out the obvious lies worked so well the first several dozen times I did it," Marinette said, adopting the same dry tone that Adrien had used. "And I gave you the watchdog charity link to use. I rather thought that its complete lack of anything about Lila's charity might tip you off."

Alya faltered. "Oh."

"But we still gave Lila money that was meant for charity," Rose said tearfully. Juleka pulled her to her side, trying to comfort her. "And it was a decent amount, too."

"You have your log, right?" Marinette reminded her. "If you tell Lila's mom how much Lila got for her 'charity', then I bet that she can get that money back to you and you can donate it to another charity."

Rose perked up at once, tears drying up magically. "Oh, that's right! We can still put that money to good use! I'm glad you suggested that we keep track of everything, Marinette."

"Yeah," Juleka agreed. "Lila sucks, but at least we can get the money back."

"We should go talk to Lila's mom before she leaves," Rose decided. She dug in her bag, pulling out the ledger notebook that she had been using for their charity collections. "Aha! Yes, I have the amount we gave Lila yesterday written here. C'mon, let's go make sure that Mrs. Rossi knows!"

"Well, all's well that ends well," Adrien said cheerfully as the other girls headed off. "I bet this isn't how Mrs. Rossi saw her evening going, and Lila definitely wasn't expecting any of this, but at least now the adults can figure everything out and Lila can actually see some consequences. And hopefully next semester, there'll be less drama now that she'll be restrained- or gone, if Mrs. Rossi or Mr. Damocles decides that Lila staying here wouldn't be a good idea."

"Hopefully," Marinette agreed. She grinned over at Adrien. "But that's enough worrying about Lila and her nonsense for tonight. I think we should just sit back and enjoy the evening, don't you?"

Adrien beamed back. "I couldn't agree more."

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 21)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​​​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mordo began escorting you around, giving you a tour of the grounds. 

“And that’s all,” he said as he turned around to face you two. “Now, at Kamar-Taj, we don’t allow distractions. That means that you will have to take refuge somewhere else.” 

You frowned, looking between Stephen and Mordo. “Oh, I thought I could stay. I’m pretty far from home.” 

“I realize that but here is a sacred area for study, training.” 

“Well I just thought… Stephen’s all alone. I think he’d be much better suited if I was here, with him.” Panic started to course through you as you instinctively moved closer to Stephen. 

“I’m sorry it’s just--”

“Can she really not stay?” Stephen suddenly asked. “The Ancient One already said she has a disposition for the mystic arts. Maybe she can help me with my study and training.” 

Mordo began shaking his head. “I wish I could but--”

“Master Mordo, is our new recruit already causing difficulty?” the Ancient one asked as she stepped up to the three of you. 

“Uh, Stephen and Y/N here would like to stay together on site. I have been insisting that unless they are both enrolled in the training, that they can’t both stay.” 

The Ancient One nodded. “While it is true that we don’t advise distractions, I think in this case, Y/N here will be an asset. Soulmates are a very sacred and spiritual bond, something that I think Mr. Strange will need.”

“Are you sure?” Mordo asked, frowning. Clearly he believed you would not be a benefit. 

“Yes,” she said as she looked at you and Stephen. “Welcome to Kamar-Taj.” 

And off she went before Mordo showed you to your living quarters. 

“Bathe, rest, meditate if you can. The Ancient One will send for you,” he instructed as lit a candle as he handed Stephen a small slip of paper. 

“Uh, what’s this? My mantra?” he joked sarcastically. 

“The Wi-Fi password. We’re not savages,” he said with a grin before leaving. 

You and Stephen were now alone, and painfully aware of the quaint quarters of the single sized bed, a small chest of drawers, and a desk with a lamp. You never stayed the night at Stephen’s, and other than helping him shower, neither of you had done anything remotely romantic or physical. 

But now, it was staring you in the face that you’d have to share a bed and live in a room as big as his walk in closet. 

“So,” you said, dragging it out. 

“So, uh, yeah, one bed,” he noted, gesturing vaguely to it. 

“You know, I can just sleep on the floor.” 

“That's preposterous,” he scoffed. 

“Well, you’re the one in actual training. You’re the one with the damaged hands,” you reminded. “You need the real rest.” 

“We could always… share.” 

“Share?” 

“Yes, soulmates share everything, right?” he asked with a bit of a cocky smile. 

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I suppose they do.” You put your suitcase on the bed and said, “Well, you relax, I’ll unpack us.” 

He walked over and started pulling things from the suitcase, making you frown. “We can unpack. I have nerve damage, I’m not dead.”

A half smile lit up your face as you worked with him to get your clothes put away and you got your laptop out and connected it to the wifi. You sent an email to Charles to update him while Stephen got a bath. 

The Ancient One retrieved him and you stood awkwardly in the room. 

“Should I come with you two or…?” you asked unsure what to do while Stephen went onto this training. 

“Mr. Strange should be alone for his training, but you’re welcome to explore the grounds or go to the library,” she responded with a soft smile. 

“Thank you.” 

“Be back,” Stephen said with a bit of a small smile. You nodded and they left. 

You took up the Ancient One’s offer to explore. You got to learn the building you were in very well before Stephen ran into you in the hallway. You two got some dinner on the grounds, even though it was very late. There was a small kitchen that stayed open until midnight and they cooked small meals for people. 

When you were finished, you went back to the small room where again, suddenly the tight quarters made you hyper aware of the situation. 

“Uh, guess we should start getting ready for bed,” you said awkwardly. 

Stephen raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes, I suppose we should.” 

“Well, I’ll just… grab my stuff,” you said quickly before grabbing your things from the drawer and running into the bathroom. 

This felt so odd. In one sense, it felt absolutely right. He was your soulmate after all. In another sense, it felt bizarre. Like an arranged marriage. Maybe Stephen was right about being “forced” to be with someone. 

But, despite the awkwardness, you did feel attracted to Stephen. Although you’d only seen the unkempt version of him, you were attracted to his body style, his arms. You’d seen him entirely naked, but when you saw him that way, it was strictly clinical. Sex or physical attraction was the absolute last thing on your mind. 

But now, the stakes were different. You weren’t his nurse anymore. You weren’t his cook any more. For right now, you were his companion. All of the other roles were stripped away. In this little room, you two were just two soulmates. 

His wit and intellect helped too. You were a bit of a pushover for a guy with charm, arrogance, and a genius mind to back it all up. 

You slipped into your shirt and shorts before taking a deep breath and exiting the bathroom. Stepehen was already under the covers, his eyes fixated on you as you walked over and put your clothes in a pile beside the bed. He was propped up on his elbow. 

Without making much of a fuss, you just drew back the covers and got into bed, laying on your back. You stared at the ceiling. 

“Is this uncomfortable for you?” he asked, clearly not fazed by the situation. 

“No,” you managed to say, shaking your head. 

“Is Charles okay with this?” he asked. 

“Yes, he said I’m not his property and I can do whatever I please.”

He nodded in surprise. “Wow, quite the free spirit.” 

“Understanding,” you corrected. “But enough about that. How was your first day? Did you learn anything?” you asked as you rolled to face him. 

“Not much, but it’ll take time. I was given some homework, some light reading.” He gestured to the three books on the desk. 

“Ah so just some pamphlets,” you joked back. 

“Right. I’ll have them read in no time though. I’ll start at dawn.” 

“Nothing determined about you,” you teased. 

“You don’t become the world’s leading neurosurgeon because you’re a slacker,” he shot back. 

You simply nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you stayed. I’m happy you’re doing this.”

This time, it was his turn to nod. His eyes went down to the sheets. “Not that I have much choice, but thank you.”  

After a moment of quiet, you had a thought swimming in your head. “The watch… who gave it to you?” you asked. 

“Jealous?” 

“No,” you honestly answered. “Curious.”

“Christine,” he answered. 

“Ah. Do you still love her?” 

“A bit, yes, but, not enough for a relationship. We’re better as friends.” 

“You don’t have to try and convince me, Stephen. If you still love her, that’s fine. I won’t come between you two.”

“First of all, I don’t lie to protect anyone, ever, so remember that. Secondly, I don’t love her like that, that’s true. Third, I never said I don’t want you to come between us.” 

A heat rose to your cheeks quickly. This was the closest thing to romance Stephen had said to you. Sure he made a few nice comments here or there, but ultimately, they were more polite than anything. 

“Right,” you said. “I’m sorry about your watch, about earlier. I wish I could’ve helped. I should’ve hit harder.” 

“Do you always do that? Take the blame for someone else’s actions?” 

You let out a soft chuckle. “Uh, I didn’t realize I did it. Um, I suppose, yes.”

“Must be a heavy burden to carry around all the time.” 

You shrugged. “Not really.” 

Stephen stared at you and you at him, both of you getting lost in each other's eyes. You never noticed how blue-gray his eyes were, how haunting they were. They held a mystery to them as well as a certain… tenderness. 

“You’re going to do great here,” you suddenly said.

“Oh? How do you know that? Do you have a crystal ball? Or, no, wait, you’re psychic, that’s what the Ancient One was talking about, is that it?” he joked, laughing loudly. 

You pushed him while laughing. “Okay, jackass. No, you’re a fantastic surgeon. Regardless of why you do your work, you must’ve done it very well for the paycheck you were getting. To be speaking at conventions and conferences. You love your job and this will get it back for you, so I know you’ll put your heart and soul into it.” 

He looked down. “I do it because… because my sister was hurt once when I was fifteen. I helped her and I became fascinated with this idea of healing. But then, when I came home for my 19th birthday, we were swimming together and… she drowned. Doctors said her muscle cramped up and she couldn’t stay afloat. It seemed like i was only turned around for a minute, but I guess a minute was all it took.”

You frowned, feeling a wave of sympathy and sorrow wash over you. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” 

“Thanks. Yeah, after that, medicine didn’t hold the same wonderful mystique about it. But I also became determined to save lives. It just wasn’t personal any more. If I couldn’t save her…” He let the idea hang in the air. “It’s just not good to get invested in your patients, because if they don’t make it…” 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Now it all made sense. He was terrified to get close to patients, to love people. He’d known loss, and didn’t want to experience it again, and to be honest, you didn’t blame him. 

“I am so sorry you’ve had to go through that.” 

He shrugged. “We’ve all had hardships, right?” 

“Doesn’t make them any less heartbreaking.”

“You must think I’m an asshole, though. That my concern with the patients starts and ends with the bill.” 

“I don’t think you see patients as a number, or a check waiting to be cashed. I think you just don’t emotionally involve yourself. Even if you did, what would it help? Clearly, not involving yourself has still got you world wide success and being known as one of the top surgeons in your field. So, motives aside, you do your job and do your job well. As a patient, that’s all I would care about.” 

“And what about as a person? As a soulmate?” he asked, his voice low.

“My answer is the same.” 

He smiled at you, touched by your answer. “There I go, underestimating you again.”

You smiled and laughed before the two of you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from a long day. But for the first time Stephen could remember, he slept soundly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[silver-kitsuneneko]

How to Deal with Cyberbullying as an Adult

I’m writing this because sadly, I hadn’t seen any posts or guides to help people with being bullied online, which is a shame because it’s a very important thing to know, especially when it’s no longer in the realm of teenagers but when adults are being cyberbullied. This guide is for those who are eighteen and over. Cyberbullying has become a growing problem over the years and with the whole cancel culture movement it’s gotten even worst. People are going after creators who did something someone didn’t like twenty years ago, someone was accused of something without proper evidence and of course that can’t fly and more often than not, someone disagreeing with someone over a show/media/fandom etc. and will of course make that person’s life a living hell just because. As someone was on the receiving end of cyberbullying for three years, I think I can give some insight on what to do and not do as a final chapter of this horrible incident and I can finally move on.

 Rule One: DO NOT RETALIATE. I know this is HARD like very hard but it’ll only make things worse. Seriously, don’t take this as an “I’m not going to back down!” or “How dare they?! I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!” moment, just Ignore, delete and BLOCK. Seriously, if not, you’re going to get a lot more than you bargained for:

 So yeah, just IGNORE.

 Rule Two: DeviantART is NEVER going to help you. Many of you use DA as your place to post art, especially teenagers. If you think DA is going to magically help you by banning them because let’s face it, DA is good for banning and suspending accounts but they really don’t care about the personal safety of their users. They don’t care if someone steals art, they don’t care if someone is harassing you, they don’t care if you’re being threatened. Their only “solution” is to block the person, knowing that people make multiple accounts just to harass a user. But as long as they get their money from their core users, they don’t care. However, this doesn’t mean that all sites are like this: Tumblr, Wattpad, FF.net, and a few others have excellent and better ways to deal with Cyberbullies and harassment, though with the user being anon things can be tricky.

 Rule three: Document everything! And I do mean everything! every single message geared towards you, anything that you know for a fact is suppose to be about you, anything that harassment and does not make you feel safe, DOCUMENT IT. Make sure you get the time and date stamp and make sure you get the website they posted it on. If you don’t know how to screen shot via desktop, there’s a Snipping tool that will do the dirty work for you better! Here are some examples on what I did. Please note that the following is very disturbing.

  As you can see, these edgelord postings are in fact a death threat and needed to be reported. I’m glad I got it and sent it through proper channels. Which brings me to my next point.

 Rule Four: Local law enforcement cannot help you, especially if your cyberbully is in another country. You can’t contact their police equivalent either because it’s a cybercrime not a “domestic” crime. They can’t do anything to help you.

 Rule Five: Contact the FBI cyber unit. Yes, there’s a FBI unit for cybercrimes. Harassment, death threats, cyberstalking, and cyberbullying are crimes. Get as much information as you can on your harasser. This could mean usernames, locations, and if you can, names. My cyberstalker posted her real name and location because she was an artist so things like her name, location, and email were posted everywhere and it was just easy to get what I needed to file a report. Don’t be ashamed and don’t be scared to do so. The form is simple and you can use that evidence you collected to show that you are indeed being harassed. The website can be found here: https://www.ic3.gov/default.aspx

 Rule Six: Don’t post your plight to your fans, on your page, or anything like that. As much as you want to vent to your Readers and Fans online, don’t. This will give your cyberbully exactly what they want, a reaction out of you. Also, many of your fans may take it upon themselves to defend you, which is honorable and an awesome thing but at the same time it’ll give them a “Reason” to send their own personal hate army after your or in my cyberbully’s case, even after I apologized, still sent her batshit crazy friends after me for days at a time. If that’s the case then shut down your page temporarily. I know it seems like you’re running but damage control at this point is the best thing you can do especially since they’re making new accounts faster than you can block and delete. If you do what to vent to your readers, use a secret language or something like that to keep everything hushed and secret so only you and your fans would know or set things to private.

 Rule Seven: Don’t post anything too personal about yourself. To many, their page or accounts are their safe places. No I don’t mean this is a SJW, special snowflake, PC culture thing but your personal spot where you can share your thoughts and feelings and post your creations. Sometimes you forget that someone with ill intentions may be using your page to get cannon fodder for later or something of that nature. My bully decided to use my relationship with my parents as a way to bash me and things of that nature and found a post several years before the fact where I told a Reader/ Fan that I didn’t like my name and went by my initials (K.C.) that I realized that she was stalking my page. She even made a journal stating that I was going after her husband, the reason why she didn’t have a job, and that if she killed herself it was my fault because I “drove her to it”. The link to that is here.

https://www.deviantart.com/justwaitforit/journal/The-Cyberbully-Incident-by-Artist-Holly-Rorke-817668170

As you can see, most of it is a very unhinged rambling of someone who really need some help. This is why you should NEVER engage a cyberbully. You don’t know if they’re right in the head or not. 

 Rule Eight: take all the time you need to take care of your mental health. When you’re being harassed at the level I was, it’s weighs on your self-worth, self esteem, mental health, and even your physical health. I felt alone in this fight, I felt like no one was listening to me, and I felt like she was never going to stop. Thanks to @pizzapupperroni, @ mischief-soul-lover, and @incubeebirb, I slowly got through it. In fact, PizzaPupper got me on One Piece as an attempt to do something new and it really helped me. I can’t thank her enough for that. Do things that’ll take your mind off of things, play your favorite video game series, take a break from your page for a little while, engage in a new hobby, block and made sure your bully cannot contact you again if you can. Meditate, take a hot bath/ shower, and just take a few days to yourself before going back to business as usual. Remember your mental health and self worth is more important than your page. Your followers will understand.

Rule Nine: If all else fails, start over. I know this is VERY hard for those who’ve been on platforms for five plus years and built you following or things like that but if the harassment continues, you may have to switch platforms and start over. This is usually a last resort. Usually by the cyber crime report happens, everything is okay again. But sometimes that may not be the case. Think of this as a last resort if this person is really bothering to the point that you can’t take it.

Whew, I was finally able to get all of this off my chest. Hopefully my experience with this cyberbully incident will help many of you approach it better with more and better resources than I did. No one deserves this type of torture and that’s exactly what it is, torture. It’s something that will weigh on your body mind until you feel like there’s nothing left for you to do and it overall makes you feel just unsafe and shitty. Please be safe out there, use you best judgment and learn to not engage. 

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

First Previous Next

Chapter 17: Disappointment

"Guilty people are always calm, innocent protest and scream they didn't do it, so maybe he actually didn't?" Derek said looking at the man in the interrogation room who was walking in circles with his head on his hands crying desperate tears, and denying over and over again, looking at the pictures of the gruesome murder of his best friend.

"Innocent people don't screw their best mate's fiance and denied it to the police" Miller said with a bitter tone, putting an special disgust in the word fiance, and Ramos knew to stop talking, he was exited to be in the interrogation with her, but the reasons behind it were terrible.

He expected that in the end detective Hardy could save some of his reputation or at least his job, Derek considered the man a role model in the force, and him being thrown off the case that way had put an asterisk on him and Harford figuring the case out.

Katie was now in the other room talking to the teacher, after all went down she have offered to scort Hardy to his house when he start losing his breath and throwing fist against the evidence they found and he drove them there. Fortunately the chief was nowhere near and they three were the only ones present there. Ramos will remain silent about it, and he was sure Katie would too, but the way Miller coldly told him to get out of the station made him fear that she might talk to the chief later. He had brought the woman back to the station, he would have objected to DI Hardy making the arrest but Katie gave him a look that meant "Let him" and Derek could swear he had never seen someone with a more vacant and sad look on his eyes as the detective told her she had to go to the station as a suspect, but she definitely look worse once she walked outside his house, and it make it even harder to believe that such a frail and innocuous creature could be capable of such things... but she was, and he had listened to the tapes and bloody hell he had seen her talking about killing Jonathan with a smile on her face, she might no have use her hands to kill him but he died because of her and Ramos was convinced of it.

And once she was in custody Miller avoided contact with her and focus on Charlie, and Derek wonder once again if the rumors were true, Alec little outburst had confirmed what he already knew, that he was compromised and possibly involved with the suspect, but the idea of Miller and Hardy having and affair until the now murder suspect got in the middle? He was not so sure, but surely Ellie had acted strangely around them. It took 3 days for him and Katie to gather the evidence against Charles Langford and on that time Y/L/N brought Hardy lunch once, nothing out of the ordinary there, since she was ruled out as a suspect and was living on his house for safety, but Miller had a very conflicted look on her face and seem to disapprove the action. Later that day she change the usual patrol on Hardy's house for him and some bloke that had just start in the force, and it was a fortune the guy fall asleep early of he might have seen Hardy and Y/N dancing on the living room holding each other, something that he was convinced he'll took to his grave, unless of course they went to trial, but then again. Did he really love his job that much? The only he actually enjoyed was a pint with the guys on fridays and a pair of certain eyes rolling when he said something stupid.

"Do you maintain sexual intercourse with Y/N Y/L/N?" Miller asked again once they were sitting in front of Charles, and Derek stop cold on his thoughts since he was at work and had to focus.

"No... I mean yes, we did it" the man said but his doubt seemed calculated, like he knew they were judging his body language more than his words and Derek understood why Miller was convinced of him being guilty.

"Mr. Langford the first time we saw you, you denied having a relationship with miss Y/L/N other than a friendship, would you care to explain why?" She said, and once again he looked at them with the clarity of someone who knows way more that he says but became coy immediately after.

"I mean you told me Jonathan died, I knew how it will look, I didn't... look I didn't do that" he said pointing at the corpse in the middle of the floor of the cottage, "I shag her because he was being a moron, and left her alone all the time, but then it became something more, I thought she loved me ok? I fucking love her... but I didn't do it, I swear I never wanted to hurt Jonathan." He said and put his hands on his head again.

"Then why did you post it?" Derek intervene and Miller seem please with his approach. "He showed him at least five screenshots of amateur phonographic videos, and his user registration on the website.

Ramos still couldn't believe that something that ridiculous had been the key to catch him, he had been the last three afternoons at Katie's house going trough all of Langford's medical record, a lot of bar fights that end on stitches, a broken nose, etc. And some misdemeanors on his criminal record, mainly angry girlfriends who choose to drop charges after some of the old officers talk to them, and some teen vandalism against one of his friends motorcycle, and possession of marijuana, the whole picture of a proud Broadchurch son.

The guy was an arse, but nothing there prove that he would murder his mate or rape the teacher. He was enjoying his time with Katie tough, but it all felt like a waste of time, until one of his old uni friends sent him an email. They always taunt him for choosing to stay in the small town and don't find a better job in the city, so he open it assuming it was something like that.

"Broadchurch babes are HOT" The subject said, and there it was the teacher's face in a very compromising position with the man they were investigating.

A quick embarrassing search on the profile of the site and they got all they needed to dismiss the rape allegations and arrest both of them for the murder, now they just need him to confess.

"Oh for fuck sake what now?" Miller said listening an outburst in the hallway.

"I demand you to let me see her!" A beautiful woman was arguing with an officer and trough an open door Y/N raised her head but quickly look down when Miller gave her a cold glare.

"You, you heartless cunt!!" Ashley Langford managed to pass the guards and enter the room where Y/N was, and slapped her across the face before Katie could intervene "I hope they throw you in the darkest pit they can find, Jonathan loved you, we loved you, why did you have to drag my brother with you? Whore! I'm glad your parents are dead so they can't see the disappointment you turn out to be!" She spit on her face and the other woman didn't intend to defend herself, the officers took her out and Katie looked at her with a curious expression that he had learned to know pretty well by now, something was off.

"I will talk to Miss Langford" Miller said following the woman, "Well take a break with the other guy, help Harford" and exit the room.

As Katie filled him in on with the little progress she had made on the suspect and look at her vacant expression he got an idea on what could make her talk.

.

.

.

ATTENTION: Hi! I want to make a little announcement here, I'm about to finish this story, I have a draft of the last three chapters and I'm polishing them so they make sense, but I may take longer than expected, how are you guys? Are you safe? I'm still working on my small town in the middle of the pandemic, and I have 12 hours shifts seeing patients so I have little to no time to write, but it has become a good distraction from all the horror in my day to day life, so I'm sorry if I left you hanging, specially since this is a sad and very confusing chapter, I hope you enjoy it, and please if possible stay at home, you have no idea how important it is. Stay safe, I can't wait for this to end so we can go back to our normal lifes. Lots of love from Mexico.

Sincerely, a very tired doctor.

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[songtoyou]

Chapter One: West Bridgewater

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Fabiola Rossi (OC)

Rating: This story will mostly be rated 18+ as it is revolves around a relationship that is Dominant/submissive. For each chapter, I will do my best to rate it accordingly, but please know that the overall story will have very adult themes.

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2,305

Description: Huge “Ransom” Drysdale always thought of himself as a powerful man. With his family’s money and status, Ransom could get away with anything. He had the power and control others would envy. Ransom could get any woman he wanted with a snap of his fingers. He was always in charge. He commanded attention. And he hated it. Never having a job in his life (thanks to his mother, father, and grandfather always there to supplement his bank account) or any real-life goals, Ransom felt incomplete and directionless. That is until Fabiola Rossi entered his life and turned it completely upside down.

A/N: I have not seen Knives Out. This is an AU of that world. I do not own any of the characters created by Rian Johnson. I have always thought of Ransom as a sub rather than a Dominant and this idea has been on my mind constantly that I needed to write it down. Anything in italics are to represent Ransom’s thoughts. 

I do not permit any of my fics to be distributed on other sites without my permission.

Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

What is a dominant-submissive relationship all about? As mentioned previously, there is an energy dynamic between the two partners. It is the Dominant’s duty to protect and guide his or her submissive. The submissive, also called “the bottom,” relinquishes some or all control to the Dominant. He or she is playing out their own kinds and fetishes through the guidance of a Dominant. No actions or scenes can be played out unless the submissive has consented to everything the Dominant plans to do during a play session. A D/s relationship is not solely about sexual activities but exploring new and interesting ways to connect beyond sex. For example, the Dominate can set up simple rules that the submissive must follow, such as asking permission to stay out late or have ice cream for dessert. A healthy D/s relationship can lead to a life of self-improvement. 

“You got some mouth on you…I bet a ball gag would fit nicely around those pretty lips of yours.”

For some reason, Ransom could not get that comment out of his head. It was so unexpected and out of leftfield. He never had a woman said anything so bold towards him. No stranger to bondage with the opposite sex, it was always Ransom who was the one in charge. Women were more than happy for him to lead the charge. It was the only time Ransom was ever put to work, so to speak. Fabiola Rossi had managed to not only mystify the spoiled playboy, but he was not determined to find out more about her. 

So, Ransom did one any person in their mid-30s did when trying to find information about another person, he stalked her social media. He came up short. No Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram that he could find of her unless they were private.

“This is Fabiola Rossi. She is an inspiring editor herself. I have taken her under my wing as a mentor.” Ransom remembered from the night before when creepy old Charlie Van Houten introduced his grandfather and him to Fabiola. 

Of course, Fabiola had a LinkedIn page as she was a young working professional. Ransom saw that she graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English and a minor in Psychology at Boston University. He noticed it had only been five years since she graduated from the university, so he suspected she was in her late twenties. Most of the jobs Fabiola received were internships or part-time positions. Not unusual for graduates looking to enter into the workforce. There was not much to offer due to the Baby Boomers not wanting to retire or companies being stingy with providing decent living wages or health benefits. 

“Intern. Van Houten & Thompson Publishing. March 2019 to current. Performs proofreading and editing of manuscripts and additional documents before the final publication,” Ransom read out loud as he continued to look through Fabiola’s profile.

He got up to reach for his coat to pull out his wallet. Inside was a business card of Charlie’s that he gave Ransom before leaving his grandfather’s party. Charlie told Ransom to keep in touch and that they both could talk about possibly working together. 

“If you have been working on anything, send it over. In fact, send it over to Fabiola. She’d probably love to read it and give you feedback. Give him your email address, honey. Any work you send over to her will be in great hands,” Ransom remembered Charlie saying to him last night. He looked over the business card and traced his thumb over Fabiola’s handwriting of her email address. 

He could not understand why this particular woman intrigued him so, despite only meeting her briefly the night before. However, Ransom knew he had an itch to scratch, and it was better to get it taken care of now before things got too out of hand. Before he became too obsessed.

Turning on his laptop, he waited for it to boot up. Opening his email account, Ransom began composing a new email to Fabiola. He kept it short and simple by asking if she was still up looking over what he was currently working on. 

Hi Ms. Rossi,

It was a pleasure meeting you last night. Hope you are doing well. If you are not too busy, do you mind if I send over the story I am currently working on? I do not want to impose if your schedule is too busy, but Charlie had such high praise for you, and I would appreciate the feedback and insight from you.

Talk to you soon,

Ransom 

He clicked the ‘send’ button and waited. Thankfully, he did not have to wait too long for a response back.

Hi Ransom,

I am so glad you reached out. Please call me Fabiola. 

Yes, I would be more than happy to beta read anything you send over.

Sincerely,

Fabiola

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Ransom said to himself with a smirk plastering over his face. He knew exactly which of his work he would send over. It was one Ransom had finished a while back. A story about the measures of what a mother would do to prove her child’s innocence when they are accused of a crime. It was one of his more personal pieces of work. He was somewhat anxious to get feedback on it. He sent it over to Fabiola as an attachment. Now, Ransom was in wait and see mode. ‘Who knows how long until she gets to actually reading it,’ he thought to himself. 

Three long agonizing days later, Ransom finally heard back from Fabiola when he checked his email that afternoon. 

Ransom,

How are you? 

Sorry I have not gotten back to you sooner. Your story is amazing! I could not put it down. I actually read it twice. It had me on the edge of my seat the entire time and had a lot of heart. You are such a good writer.

I do have some suggestions for you if you do not mind. However, I do not want to merely give them to you via email or comments in the document. Would it be okay if the two of us meet up for coffee sometime this week? It would be easier to talk to you about the recommendations face-to-face.

Any suggestions on where we could meet up? I don’t mind traveling to your neck of the woods if it is more convenient for you.

Fabiola

Ransom was thrilled that not only did she like his work but was willing to meet him in person. He quickly wrote her back suggesting a meeting at a little coffee shop in West Bridgewater. It would only be a 34-minute drive for Fabiola to get to him. Honestly, Ransom was a bit taken aback that she was willing to drive all the way out to the boonies to talk to him in person. 

The two decided to meet up on Saturday afternoon at The Bridge Coffee House, a new town establishment. A Starbucks it was not, thankfully.

When Saturday finally rolled around, Ransom dressed in his usual simple attire: gray cardigan, white long-sleeve shirt underneath, dark blue jeans, and Louis Vuitton black loafers. He gave himself a look over in the mirror one last time; he exited the house, got in his 1972 BMW 3.0 CSi, and headed to the coffee shop.

Once there, Ransom ordered an espresso and settled in a seat near the corner, but still visible for Fabiola to see him. As Ransom waited for Fabiola to arrive, his leg was shaking underneath the table. He was nervous, which was an unusual feeling for Ransom. Women hardly ever made Ransom nervous, but the woman he was meeting was for business, not pleasure. 

‘Note yet at least,” Ransom thought to himself as he sipped his espresso. 

The ding of the bell on the entrance door made Ransom lookup. There Fabiola was wearing a white long-sleeved fitted sweater with light blue jeans, white sneakers, and a light gray messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around and noticed Ransom. Giving him a smile and wave, Fabiola made her way over to him. He stood up as she neared the table. 

“Hi. How are you?” she asked and stuck out her hand for Ransom to shake.

He reciprocated the gesture and replied, “I’m good. Do you want something to drink? My treat.”

Fabiola accepted Ransom’s offer with an iced tea. “Is there a restroom around that I could use?”

Ransom pointed to where the restrooms were, and Fabiola excused herself while he got her iced tea. Paying for the iced tea, Ransom went back to the table and proceeded to wait again. 

“That was quite a drive,” spoke Fabiola as she sat down in the seat across from Ransom, “Gorgeous scenery. I tend to not venture too far outside of Boston much.”

“Yeah, it is a nice quiet town. Not much goes on here.”

“I’m kind of surprised that you don’t choose to live in Boston. Figured you would want to be in a more urban area,” said Fabiola.

Ransom shifted in his seat to cross his legs, “I used to live in Boston during my 20s. Decided to move here a couple of years ago. Helped clear my head a little.”

Taking a sip of her iced tea, Fabiola asked, “Is that when you really began to write?”

Ransom let out a small laugh and cleared his throat, “Yeah…I just…needed a hobby to preoccupy my time.”

“Well, I have to tell you that it was a good idea,” said Fabiola as she began to rummage through her bag and pulled out a binder to place on the table.

“This story is outstanding,” she complimented.

Ransom felt the heat on his cheeks from her praise. It felt good to have someone appreciate his work, which was not a feeling he was used to. 

“I do have some questions if you don’t mind me asking? Nothing bad, just some clarifications.”

“Sure. Ask away,” Ransom responded casually. He was doing his best to not seem too eager. 

“What made you decide to have the main character a mother rather than a father? I ask that because, normally, male authors tend to write the protagonist as male. You don’t really see many male authors write crime novels with a main female character,” Fabiola pointed out and went on to tell him, “You also wrote the character really well. Like, she feels like a real person. She was fully developed and fleshed out. I was totally rooting for her throughout the whole story. And the side characters are nicely written as well. Each chapter kept the reader on its toes. You never knew what to expect. Nothing felt forced or out of place. Nothing dragged on. Here is a copy of my notes. Nothing too major. Only certain suggestions like clarification or more descriptive details for certain paragraphs.”

Ransom looked at her incredibly detailed notes. “I appreciate you doing this. Thank you,” Ransom said earnestly.  

“Do you plan on getting that published?” Fabiola asked him.

Letting out a light chuckle, Ransom told her that most likely he would not.

“Why?”

“I prefer to write for myself. Not for an audience. Plus, there is the likelihood that I’ll get compared to my grandfather or people thinking that nepotism is involved,” answered Ransom as he continued to flip through Fabiola’s notes.

Fabiola merely sat back and took the time to really look at the man before her. With dark hair and blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a somewhat crooked nose, Fabiola could not deny that he was handsome. Before the meeting, Fabiola asked Charlie about what he knew about Ransom. Boy, she got an honest earful from Charlie. While Charlie complimented Ransom, there was a hint of pity in his voice.

“He’s got so much potential, but he wastes it with booze and women. The poor boy did have a stint in rehab when he was younger. It’s so parents of his. Always giving him money instead of love and affection,” Charlie shared with Fabiola. 

 “You don’t want to fail at the one thing you believe you are actually good at,” Fabiola stated to Ransom and added, “So, it is easier to not put yourself out there in the first place.”

Scoffing, Ransom sat back and stared at Fabiola. Now it was his turn to really look at the woman before him. With her long dark hair, brown eyes, and slender figure, he had to admit to himself that she was beautiful. But he could tell that there was more to this woman than meets the eye.

“You like to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? You think I’m some poor little rich poor?” Ransom asked with a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“Yes,” Fabiola simply said as she folded her arms to rest on the table and continued, “You’re not some riddle, Ransom. You are quite easy to figure out. Just as I mentioned to you at the party, you are bored. However, it is not the excitement that you seek. Instead, you want guidance. You want someone to look after you and care for you. You want to surrender control. Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll shut up.”

With his silence, she had her answer.

“I can give you what you need, but to do that, we need to develop trust between one another,” Fabiola communicated and reached out to grip one of Ransom’s hands. She entwined her fingers within his.

“How much?” Ransom spoke up as they looked at their entangled hands. 

Fabiola shook her head and clarified, “Nothing. I’m not proposing you sex Ransom. I’m proposing to you something completely different. What do you know about BDSM or a D/s relationship?”

[bellaireland1981]

New Beginnings: Ch 3

Characters: Andy Barber x Single Mom! Briella James (Named Reader), Jacob Barber, Ava James

Summary: Briella James is a HS teacher and has Jacob in her class. Jacob meets Briella’s 5 year old daughter and they form a bond. Andy is interested in Briella but her ex (and Ava’s dad) is becoming a problem!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some angst, jerk of an ex that harasses Briella… will update in future chapters.

word count: 1922

A/N: I do Not own Andy Barber or Jacob Barber, they are fictional characters. I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work or translate it to another site. Reblogs always welcome!   This is my FIRST EVER attempt at writing for Andy…or any character, so be gentle!  THANK YOU to my friends for supporting me and encouraging me! I’m my own worst critic so I love their feedback! @denisemarieangelina​ @fluffymisha97​ @jamielea81​

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3 (?)

Ava had gone to bed without any complaint the night before. Spending all day at the zoo and getting ice cream had worn her out. After she went to bed you’d had time to sit and think about what Andy had said. You knew he was probably right about you ex, you were just scared to further set him off. Up to this point, he’d pretty much left you alone. You worried that if you pressed the issue, he’d make trouble for you or worse, for Ava.

You also had to admit that you’d very much enjoyed spending the day with Andy. He was easy to talk to and fun to be around. He was an amazing dad to Jacob and was sweet in his interactions with Ava. While you definitely enjoyed his company, you were still unsure whether or not he would be interested in anything other than just being friends, and if he was, was dating the father of one of your student’s a good idea?

With everything running through your head, you didn’t get much sleep. You dragged yourself out of bed when you heard Ava get up, slowly making your way to the kitchen. She was already on the couch watching cartoons, so you decided to take advantage and start the coffee before getting her some breakfast.

After your coffee was ready, you poured yourself a cup and then set to making Ava some French Toast and Scrambled eggs. While you were cooking, you heard your phone ping with new messages but decided they could wait, assuming it was just your ex again.

“Ava, come eat breakfast,” You called her once the food was done. “You have to eat and get ready, Papa will be picking you up soon.”

“Yay! I can’t wait to tell Papa about the zoo! And Jacob and his daddy!” She said excitedly. She came in and sat down at the counter and started eating her breakfast.

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear all about the zoo, Monkey.” You confirmed. And later, you were sure to get the third degree about Andy and Jacob. Sometimes you wished your brother and sister in law lived closer so that your parents could fuss over them once in a while.

“Mommy?” Ave asked, swallowing a mouthful of her French toast, “When can I see Jacob and his daddy again?”

“I don’t know, Babygirl” You replied, “I’m glad you had fun with them though.”

“I did!” She said, “I wish Jacob was my brother. Katie, at school, always talks about her brother and they do fun stuff together.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that. Your heart broke that she didn’t have a sibling. You knew how nice it was growing up with your own brother. Ava didn’t even have cousins that lived close. Thankfully, your dad arrived, which saved you from having to come up with a response.

“Good morning, Sweetheart.” Your dad said, entering the kitchen, “Morning, Ava Bug! Are you ready to go out on the boat?”

“Yup!” She said, happily, “I’m ready!”

“Go grab your jacket and put your shoes on, Monkey.” You instructed her.

While Ava got her jacket and shoes on, you placed her plate in the dishwasher and wiped down the counter.

“What are your plans today?” Your dad asked.

“I’m going to go get groceries and then come back and get some stuff done around the house.” You replied, “I’ve got some grading I should catch up too.”

“Try to do something that’s just for you, Sweetheart,” He said, hugging you, “It’s ok, to do things for yourself too, doesn’t make you a bad mom, teacher, or daughter.”

“Thanks, Dad.” You replied smiling, “I will try to squeeze some me time in there as well.”

“We’re happy to keep Ava Bug overnight, if you want to get out with other adults and paint the town red.”

“I’m not in my twenties anymore dad” You laughed, “No need to go out drinking or partying with friends. The recovery takes too long now.”

“The offer still stands” He insisted, “Being the only grandchild in the state, we’re more than happy to spoil her.”

“She’s more than happy to let you!” You said, shaking your head.

Ava came bounding back into the room, declaring she was ready and all but dragged your dad out the door. After quick hugs and a reminder to her to listen, they were off for their adventure.

Once they were out the door, you grabbed your phone to look at the missed text messages and phone calls.

You read through the texts, seeing that they were all from your ex. You were starting to get worried with the increase in calls and texts from him. He was clearly escalating. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You decided to go get dressed and try to clear your head before making a decision on what to do about the texts and calls. You’d promised Andy you’d think about taking actions to get your ex to stop harassing you, and you had to admit he was probably right.  

By the time you got dressed and brushed through your hair, you’d made the decision to go about your day as planned, and you would reach out to Andy in an email on Monday.

You grabbed your car keys and purse, tucking your phone in your pocket and made your way out to your car. You blasted your upbeat playlist, hoping it would work to calm the remaining nerves before you got to the grocery store.

You were able to get the shopping done in record time without having to negotiate all the treats with Ava. You had a feeling she’d make a great lawyer someday. With the shopping done, you decided to reward yourself and grab a coffee from the small coffee shop around the corner from the grocery store.

As you stood in line, you heard your phone ding several times, alerting you to new messages. You pulled your phone out to check, and felt your anxiety increase again. You sent a text back asking to be left alone, knowing he’d ignore it.

“Fancy running into you here” A voice sounded behind you, startling you and causing you to flinch. “Woah, Brielle, are you ok?”

Finally recognizing the voice, you turned around, taking a deep breath and trying to calm your racing heart.

“Andy,” You replied, quietly, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention so missed when you came in.”

“You do realize I’m a lawyer, and can see right through that right?” He said gently, “You’re showing all the classic signs of distress. How about you have a seat while I get us coffees and then you can tell me what’s causing that distress.”

“I appreciate the offer,” You replied, “I have groceries in the car though, and wasn’t planning on staying.”

“I don’t think driving when you’re upset is a great idea either,” He reasoned, “It’s cool enough, the groceries should be fine while you have one cup of coffee.”

“Ok,” You smiled, softly, “You’re pretty good at bargaining.”

“Professional hazard” he joked, “What would you like? And before you argue, I’m buying the coffee and you’re going to sit and breathe.”

“Yes, Sir,” you smiled, “Mocha Latte, please.”

“Coming right up” He said, smiling warmly, “Grab us a table.”  

You quickly found a table in one of the corners, figuring Andy would be grilling you over why you were upset, you didn’t want the rest of the cafe to hear the conversation.

Andy set your coffee down in front of you and took a seat in the chair next to you.

“Thank you” You said, placing your hands around the warm up.

“You’re welcome” He replied, “How many more messages have you gotten from him?”

“Today? Or since you read the messages yesterday?” You asked to clarify, but mostly to stall.

“Sweetheart, if you have to ask that, it’s time to put a stop to it.” He said gently. Your heart fluttered at the endearment.

“I’ve gotten 9 more texts and 4 voicemails just since this morning.” You admitted, “I sent a text back asking him to stop, but I’m guessing that’s not going to be effective.”

“Probably not,” He agreed, “But it’s a good first step. Are the texts the same as yesterday or more aggressive?”

“They’re the same, just more frequent.” You said, “Honestly, I just want him to leave me alone. I don’t want to have to worry about him suddenly popping up or worry about if he’s going to demand to see Ava.”

“Are you willing to let me help you?” He asked gently.

“If you’re sure it’s not a bother…” You said, giving in, “I would very much appreciate the help.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to help,” He assured you, “Besides, my motives are purely selfish.”

“How so?” You asked, smiling.

“It gives me a reason to see more of you, which hopefully leads to us getting to know one another more, and in the interest of full disclosure, once this is all cleared up, I’m going to ask you for a date.” He admitted, smiling.

“In the interest of full disclosure,” You replied, “once this is all cleared up, I’ll probably say yes.”

“Probably?” He asked, laughing, “I can work with that.”

“You may have to run it by the boss…” you teased, “She’ll probably grill you on your knowledge of Disney Princesses.”

“I better do some research then.” He said, “I want to make sure I can pass with flying colors.”

“Ava was asking this morning when she can see Jacob again.” You said, “Seems she is very taken with him.” You left out the part about her wishing he was her brother.

“How would you feel about Jake and I coming to your house tomorrow?” He suggested, “He can keep Ava occupied while we sort through paperwork so I can get it done and filed with the court on Monday?”

“The only way I will agree to be the reason you have to work on a Sunday is if you at least let me cook you and Jacob dinner.” You bargained.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he joked, “I will happily accept those terms.”

“Any food allergies or aversions” You asked, “I was thinking about making lasagna tomorrow.”

“Jake and I eat pretty much anything.” he confirmed, “And lasagna sounds like Heaven.”

“I’ll plan on dinner then for around 5:30, but you are welcome to come any time.” You said, “And really, I cannot thank you enough for this.”

“No thanks are needed,” He said, “I’ve already admitted this is purely selfish on my part. Jake and I will come around 3:30, we’ll want to make sure Miss. Ava gets enough hang out time with Jake.”

“You’ll be her new favorite person.” You teased, “3:30 is perfect.”

“I’ve heard she’s the one I need to impress anyway in order to gain approval to ask her mom out.” He winked. “In the meantime, try not to look at messages from your ex or stress over the calls. We’ll get it all worked out soon. And do not say ‘thank you’ again!” he laughed, see you opening your mouth to do just that.

Andy walked you out to your car and you said your goodbyes before heading home to get groceries put away and laundry sorted. You were very much looking forward to dinner the next day.  

@waywardodysseys​ @nickysurfer28​

[laceyeb]

My work day: 

- Had a meeting with the rest of the special education staff in the district from 10 to about 11:15. It didn’t stress me out as much as it usually does, but it was as boring as ever. 

- Went through my group of students and looked at the new ones to see what they’re all about. Emailed someone to ask if she could tell me more about them because I can only learn so much from unclear paperwork. She was very helpful and said she’s glad I’m staying in my position because she loves working with me. 

- Did some more miscellaneous work stuff. Sent some more emails to some more work people.

- Got an email from the guy who switched positions with me and he asked when I was moving my stuff out of his classroom and back into my old room, so I went to work and did that. Our custodian was kind enough to help me with the heavy stuff even after he had already moved all my stuff into the new room that’s now not mine. 

- Went and chatted with another teacher (the one who started the whole position swapping mess) about the drama. She’s stuck in a position now that she doesn’t really want (but I’m feeling a little petty and don’t have much sympathy for her). She also mentioned to me how we have two new teachers who need a mentor for the beginning teacher program thing. (Basically, the first two years of teaching, you have to take these classes. They’re kind of pointless and just a formality. You also have a mentor who works with you.) She suggested that maybe I would want to be their mentor. These are two new special education teachers and there’s only three of us, so suddenly I’m the seasoned veteran. I told her I would definitely be interested (plus there’s a decent stipend! yay money!), so she took me to chat with one of these new teachers.

- He’s super nice and friendly and was all for me being his mentor. As we were having this discussion, the principal walked in and we told him the plan. He said that was exactly what he was coming to talk to me about! So that’s all set.

I quite enjoy feeling important and knowledgable, but mostly I like that people at work realized someone needed to take on the mentor role and they thought of me first! I am now essentially the head special education teacher at our school site after only two years of experience, but I know I’m good at my job and it’s so nice to not be the new person anymore.