#literally sent them both emails in the past hour with all the links

[violetclarity]

are you doing research for each of your parents on what they should get the other parent for their birthday, or do you have siblings?

[candleshopmenace]

anger is blood [malice is the wisdom of our wrath] | day six: ransom video

SUMMARY

“How many times do we need to go through this, Shinsou? Think of how much pain you could save yourself if you just gave in.”

“Yeah,” Shinsou says, and there’s something like a laugh in his voice, “I get that a lot.”

—

Shinsou screams, the sound hoarse and seemingly ripped from somewhere deep in his throat, and all that Shouta can do is watch.

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[ao3 link]

[discord server]

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Shouta knows the moment that he wakes up that it's not going to be a good day. Mostly because he wakes up early. It's not by choice and it's not by obligation, but because of Nemuri, fucking Nemuri, is standing over him and saying in a voice devoid of pity or sympathy, “Get your ass up.”

Shouta blinks at her. His mouth feels gritty, which means that he’d passed out without brushing his teeth. “What time is it?”

Nemuri props her hands on her hips, scowls. “A quarter past five,” she says, tapping her foot in a way that says that he should’ve been up and moving an hour ago. “C’mon, Shouta, we’ve got a meeting at six! Get dressed!”

Shouta groans into his pillow. “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Reluctantly and resentfully, Shouta drags himself out of bed. He shuffles to the bathroom across the hall and turns on the shower as hot and high as it can go, which earns him a half-hearted trickle of water. God, he hates Nemuri’s apartment. Despises it. Not only is it in the literal worst part of town, it doesn’t even have decent… anything. Beggars can’t be choosers, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing for his own warm bed and functioning shower. Goddamn villains, forcing him out of his own damn house. He stands under the spray for a moment, then struggles out again. Towel wrapped around his waist, he staggers to the kitchen to get some breakfast, then sighs when he opens the cabinets and comes face-to-face with nothing but bare shelves. 

Jesus Christ, he always forgets that her eating habits are even worse than his.

“Nemuri!” he calls, and waits for her responding, What?, before saying, “We’re going grocery shopping after work!”

“I don’t want to!” 

“I don’t care. You can’t live off of -” He looks around for an example, gives up. “What the Hell. What do you even eat? There’s literally nothing in here, Nemuri.”

Nemuri pokes her head out of her door, scowls at him. “I was going to pick up breakfast,” she says, defensive. “And I just haven’t had time to go to the store recently.”

Shouta snorts. “Right.” He gets dressed, brushes his teeth, and then drags a comb through his hair. He’s just started to wind his capture weapon around his neck when his alarm goes off, phone buzzing in his pocket. He takes it out, glances at it, huffs in irritation. This is the time that he normally wakes up. Fucking Nedzu, calling a meeting at ass o’clock in the morning and barely even bothering to give them a few hours’ notice - if Shouta hadn’t been up late last night, chances are that both he and Nemuri would’ve missed the meeting, since Nedzu sent the email at nearly midnight. 

Shouta yells, “Nemuri! We have to go!”

Footsteps pound past him in the hall. “Hurry up!” and then the slam of the front door, the little shit.

Shouta curses, grabs his bag, and follows her, barely remembering to put on his shoes before heading down the stairs and into the parking lot. He ducks into the passenger seat of Nemuri’s car half a second before she fucking floors it, tires squealing as she jerks around the corner. 

Shouta says, glaring at her, “You’re a horrible driver.”

Nemuri glances over at him. She’s not as put-together as she is on most days - she’s wearing her regular glasses instead of the ones she wears with her costume, and her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail - but that doesn’t make her grin seem any less shit-eating. “But other people aren’t,” she says, perfectly confident, like that makes any sense at all.

“You are so full of shit, Nemuri.”

Nemuri’s grin widens. She looks back towards the road and accelerates even more, and Shouta thanks all the gods that he can think of that it's early and nearly no one else is insane enough to be driving at this time in the morning. “As Jordan Baker said,” Nemuri says, sing-song, “it takes two to make an accident.” And then she turns on the radio, signaling the end of the conversation, and starts to tap her nails against the steering wheel in beat to the music blaring from her speakers.

After a few minutes of staring out the window, Shouta looks back at Nemuri and says, “You’re being awfully nice.”

Nemuri turns the volume down, just a notch. “I’m always nice,” she says, and, when Shouta snorts, she gasps like his disbelief is a personal affront to everything she holds dear and close to her heart. “Excuse you,” she says, offended, “who was the one who brought you flowers every day when you were stuck in the hospital during finals with that bullet in your leg?”

“You visited me twice in the hospital, and you said both times that you were only doing it because you needed help studying. And you never brought me flowers.”

Nemuri pauses. “I sent texts.”

“You sent porn.”

“Well, who needs fucking flowers, anyways?” Nemuri huffs and slams her horn at a particularly slow driver, flipping them off in their rearview mirror. She switches lanes, speeds up, and then cuts in front of them. She asks, “What time is it?”

“You have a phone.” “I can’t look at it while I’m driving, Shouta.”

“Oh, really. You’ll break every law in existence but you refuse to break this one? That makes a lot of sense.” Still, Shouta glances at his screen. “It's almost six.”

“Shit,” Nemuri says, and somehow manages to go even faster. Within minutes, she’s pulling into the teachers’ parking lot behind Yuuei. She kills the engine and drops her keys into her purse, swings her legs out of the door. “C’mon,” she says, and is already halfway to the school building by the time that Shouta manages to unbuckle his seatbelt and scramble after her. “We’re going to be late.”

They’re almost to Nedzu’s office when Shouta hears Hizashi call out from behind them, “Hey!”

Shouta stops automatically at the sound of his voice, turns. “Yeah?” he asks, scanning Hizashi head-to-toe. He looks like shit, which is worrying - Hizashi worked three jobs, but he always somehow managed to be presentable. Right now, it looks like he has, quite literally, just rolled out of bed. “Morning, Hizashi.”

Hizashi gives him a distracted nod, but his eyes are fixed on Nemuri. It's like they’re having a silent conversation, which is both irritating and familiar. Finally, Hizashi says, “Yeah. Yeah, good morning.”

Shouta looks between him and Nemuri. “Is something wrong?”

Again, Hizashi hesitates. Something flickers across his face - anxiety, maybe, or trepidation - but then disappears just as quickly. “Let’s just go inside,” he says, and nods towards the door. 

With one more suspicious once-over of his best friend, Shouta twists the handle. Hinges creak like something out of a horror movie - Shouta is forever convinced that Nedzu keeps them unoiled just so that one feels a sense of foreboding when they enter the room - and the door opens into Nedzu’s office. 

Shouta blinks.

All of the first-year teachers are gathered around Nedzu’s desk, sitting in chairs that had to have been brought up from a classroom. 

“Ah, Aizawa-sensei,” Nedzu says, and smiles. For a rodent, his face is weirdly expressive. It's fucking creepy. “Nice of you to join us.”

Shouta opens his mouth to respond, to say something that would probably get him fired on the spot, but Nemuri cuts in, grabbing his wrist in a silent warning. “Sorry, sir,” she says, dipping her head in a bow. “Traffic trouble.”

“Traffic,” Kan says, eyebrows raised, “at five-something in the morning.”

“More importantly,” a man starts. Shouta vaguely recognizes him as the 1-C teacher - so sue him if he can’t remember all of his coworkers’ names, it's six fucking AM and he should still be asleep. He waves his finger between Shouta and Nemuri, smirks. “You two rode together? When did that start?”

Tomo snaps his head over to him, narrows his eyes. “Don’t be disgusting, Takahashi.”

The Class 1-C teacher, newly dubbed Takahashi, holds up both his hands, waves them back and forth in front of him.  The expression on his face is somehow both panicked and apologetic. “I was joking, I was joking.”

“Well, don’t.”

Shouta blinks as the scene plays out in front of him. Tomo was usually one of the most mild-mannered teachers in their group, so to hear him get irritated by something that was obviously just an attempt at humor is… weird. It's weird. He’s not sure how to feel about it.

From behind his desk, Nedzu clears his throat. “Alright, settle down.” He clasps both hands in front of him. “So, everyone already knows why we’re here, right?”

Everyone in the room nods. 

Except for Shouta. He says, “What?”

Nedzu looks at him with a puzzled expression, which is a rarity that doesn’t make Shouta feel any less tense. “You don’t?” His eyes flick to Nemuri, who stiffens beside Shouta, her grip on his arm tightening. “Midnight, I thought I told you to brief him before the meeting.”

“... What?” Shouta repeats, feeling for all the world like a broken record. Feeling like an outsider, too, because he’s obviously been left out of something important. “Brief me on what, Nemuri?”

“Um,” she says.

“Nemuri.”

Nemuri winces, looks over at Nedzu with pleading eyes. “Sir, I couldn’t do it. I think it's better if you tell him.”

Takahashi frowns. “What’s the big deal?” he asks, leaning forward in his chair, forearms braced against his knees. “If anything, I’m the one who should be upset. The kid’s my student, not his. Just tell him, fuckin’ Hell.”

Nedzu sighs, long and drawn out. “And this is why I wanted him to be notified before the meeting, Nemuri, so that he would be prepared for what we will be discussing.” He looks at Shouta. “It's my understanding that you’ve been interested in mentoring a general studies student?”

Shouta’s mouth goes dry. “Shinsou Hitoshi?” he says, and it's almost a question, not quite, and his mind is running through all the worst possible scenarios. “In 1-C? This meeting is about him?”

Nedzu nods, expression grave as a doctor delivering news about a terminal illness. “As of yesterday night, at nine o’clock sharp, he’s been declared missing.”

“Oh,” Shouta says, and then falls silent for a long, long moment, processing the words. Declared missing. For someone to be declared missing, they have to be gone for twenty-four hours. If it was made official as of nine PM last night, then that means that Shinsou hasn’t been in contact with anyone since nine PM two days ago, which means that this is a very bad situation. Which means that Shinsou could be hurt, or worse. Which means that Shouta really should’ve been told about this sooner. 

Shouta says, finally, “What the fuck.” He looks around the room, hoping that this is just some kind of sick joke, and meets Takahashi’s suddenly solemn eyes. He says it again, with a bit more emphasis, “What. The. Fuck.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Shouta spins on his heel, slaps it away hard enough that Nemuri winces. “Shouta,” she says, placating, and then sighs. “I didn’t want to make you upset.”

“Oh, really?” Shouta asks, and he must sound fucking pissed because Hizashi takes a half-step back, like he thinks that Shouta might rip into Nemuri and then go after him. That doesn’t sound like a bad plan, actually, now that he thinks about it. “You didn’t want to upset me? You do understand how that makes this worse, right? What the fuck is wrong with you? What even goes through your head? I’m more upset now than I would’ve been if you had just told me when it happened!” Seething, he turns and stabs an accusing finger at Nedzu. “Why didn’t I get notified when they did? Did everyone in this room know about this bullshit before me?”

Ishiyama clears his throat with a sound like wet gravel, and Shouta’s attention snaps to him. “If I recall correctly,” Ishiyama says, “you were on patrol when Nedzu set up the video conference. You turn your phone off while you work, don’t you?”

Shouta’s arm drops back to his side. “Fuck,” he says. He takes a deep breath, then another. Losing his shit in front of a room full of coworkers is not how he expected to spend his morning. “Fuck.” Looking back at Nedzu, he says, “What are we going to do about it? And if you say that we’re not going to do anything about it, I swear to God -”

Shikyo, silent until now, cuts him off. In a voice slightly distorted and metallic by his mask, he says, “Eraserhead, do you need to step outside?”

“No, Snipe, I don’t. What I do need, though, is some answers. Nedzu -”

Every phone in the room simultaneously buzzes with a notification, and that’s enough to make him stop talking. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and everyone else in the room does the same, and he double-taps on the message without any hesitation at all - this is far too well-timed to be a coincidence. The text is nothing but a short line of words and a video with a plain black thumbnail. 

Tick-tock, the message says, and Shouta’s blood goes cold. Almost robotically, he full-screens the video and hits the play button, bracing himself for the worst even as his world narrows down to the nightmare in his hands. 

The black fades away, revealing a boy sitting in full view of the camera.

It's Shinsou. 

He’s tied up in a way that prevents him from moving even an inch - his legs are buckled tightly, and his arms are pinned down from his elbows to his wrists with thick leather straps. There’s even belts looped around his waist and chest, pressing his back flat against the chair.

Jesus, Shouta thinks. The kid must’ve put his captors through Hell to warrant such careful restraints.

Shinsou looks… bad. There’s no other way to put it. He looks bad. There’s a slash across his cheek, the kind one would get from being hit full in the face with a metal-knuckles fist - Shouta knows because that has happened to him several times - and his lip is split and crusted with dried blood. His shirt is torn to shreds, and through the scraps of fabric Shouta can see, even in the video’s dim lighting, that his ribs are deeply bruised.

He looks as bored as ever, though, uninterested and unattentive. He stares steadily at something off-screen, his eyes flat and his expression carefully neutral. Shouta wonders, briefly, who or what it is that Shinsou is looking at, but he’s not left in the dark for very long - a thin, lanky figure soon walks into view and stands in front of the camera. 

“So, Shinsou,” and the voice is staticy and harsh. “Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?”

“No way in fucking Hell,” Shinsou drawls, and, despite everything, pride flares in Shouta’s chest. He knew the moment that he saw him at the Sports Festival that Shinsou had the potential to be a great hero, and, so far, all that the kid has done is prove him right.

“Oh, that’s a pity,” the person says, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Well, how about you tell your teacher to stand down?”

“Nope.”

Teacher, singular? Shouta glances across the room at Takahashi, then refocuses on the video. The person - villain, Shouta thinks, criminal, bastard, low-life degenerate - clicks their tongue. “How many times do we need to go through this, Shinsou? Think of how much pain you could save yourself if you just gave in.”

“Yeah,” Shinsou says, and there’s something like a laugh in his voice, “I get that a lot.”

The villain sighs heavily. They step to the side, and Shinsou comes back into view once more, head tilted to the side, a lazy grin stretched across his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very disobedient child?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a fucking creep?” The moment that the last word leaves Shinsou’s mouth, his eyes widen, and for the first time since the video started he actually looks like he’s scared. “Wait, shit, wait -” 

Spasms run through his entire body and a scream rips from his throat, hoarse and unexpected. His head falls forward as he gasps for air, and Shouta notices for the first time that there’s a collar around Shinsou’s neck, shining metal and visibly sparking, and the anger that fills Shouta’s chest is so potent that it's damn near poisonous. He can hear his coworkers’ gasps of horror and sounds of protest, but, most of all, he hears the way that Shinsou is panting, sees the way his shoulders are shaking. 

When the electricity stops, Shinsou looks up, his face pale and in stark contrast to the bright red blood dripping from his nose, over his lips. “Fuck you,” he whispers. In the low light, his eyes are glinting with tears. “I hate you. I’m going to fucking kill you, you sick bastard.”

The villain tsks under their breath. “It's not my fault that you broke the rules. You only have yourself to blame.”

Shinsou shudders with a leftover tremor, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Shouta can see the thoughts running through his head, the calculations and plans, and he’s almost expecting it, expecting something monumental and game-changing, when Shinsou says, “Fine.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, resting it against the chair. “I’ll tell you.”

“Oh?” The villain sounds smug, pleased. “That’s all it took? I have to say, I was expecting more.”

“Fuck you,” Shinsou mutters, but then says, “yeah, yeah, whatever. Come closer.”

The villain huffs out an amused laugh and obliges, even leans down closer so that they’re eye-level with Shinsou. Like this, Shouta can only see about half of Shinsou’s face, but he can still tell what’s about to happen, because it's the exact same thing that he himself would do in this situation and Shinsou is more like him than he cares to admit. “No,” he finds himself saying, even though the kid can’t hear him. “Don’t do it, Shinsou, don’t -”

Shinsou spits in the villain’s face.

“Oh, shit,” someone says. Hizashi, maybe.

For a long, long moment, nothing happens on-screen. And then, slowly, almost leisurely, the villain raises a hand and wipes it along their cheek. They straighten up, and from the way that Shinsou’s eyes are narrowed, the two of them are probably glaring at each other. “Was that necessary, Shinsou?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

The villain turns like they’re about to walk away, and then spins back around and slaps Shinsou so hard that his head jerks fully to the side and a resounding crack! echoes in Shouta’s ears.

“And here I was thinking that you were going to play nice,” the villain says, and one hand lashes out, lightning-fast, to seize Shinsou’s hair. They yank it, force the boy to look up at them, uncaring of the pained hiss that whistles through Shinsou’s gritted teeth. “You know,” they say, almost casually, conversational, “I’m recording this.”

For the first time, Shinsou’s eyes look directly at the camera, and the villain crows a laugh. “That’s right,” they say. “Since you weren’t cooperating earlier, I had the idea to put on a little show, then let your teacher decide whether or not he wants to give in. But now, I’m wondering if that was such a good idea. After all, what if he decides that you aren’t worth the price?”

Understanding flashes across Shinsou’s face, and he starts shaking his head frantically at the camera. “Sensei, don’t listen to him, he wants -”

A hand claps down over Shinsou’s mouth and nose, effectively shutting him up and cutting off his air. “None of that,” the villain says, low and mocking, like he’s discipling a dog. Shinsou immediately tries to rip himself away, to take a breath, but the villain doesn’t let up - if anything, he presses harder, seeming to take sadistic pleasure in the way that the boy’s movements get increasingly panicked and jerky. 

Shouta watches in numb, muted horror as Shinsou’s body goes limp.

After a moment, the villain withdraws his hand. He stands over Shinsou, staring down at him, then shrugs and turns to look at the camera. It's the first time that his face is fully visible, and shock rockets through Shouta’s chest, jarring him to his core. In his peripheral vision, he sees Hizashi’s head snap up, feels his eyes burning into him. 

“Teachers of Yuuei,” the villain says, and smiles. His teeth glint, sharp, in the light. “You have a choice to make. If you call a cease-fire on my business and allow me to operate in peace, I’ll give your student back to you, and then we’ll all be happy.”

Shouta’s blood is freezing, and his mouth is so dry that he can’t even swallow. No, he thinks. No.

The villain’s grin widens impossibly further, predatory. “Eraserhead,” he says, adding a croon to the name that makes Shouta’s skin crawl. “I eagerly await your answer.”

And the video ends.

There is complete, absolute silence for one long, long moment. Nobody talks. Nobody even breathes. Shouta stares down at his phone with wide eyes. His hands have a tremble to them that won’t go away.

Finally, someone speaks. Yells, actually. 

“What the fuck was that!” 

Takahashi jumps up and stalks across the room to grab Shouta’s collar, damn near yanking him off his feet, and Shouta is too numb to even protest. 

“Are you telling me that this is your fault? Tell me that this is just a shitty joke, Aizawa, tell me that my Goddamn student wasn’t just fucking kidnapped and tortured because of you! This is all just bullshit, right?” 

He shakes Shouta, hard, and yells in his face, “Why the fuck did you let this happen? Are you just determined to fuck over all the students in this school? First the kid at the fucking Sports Festival, and now Shinsou? He’s not even your student! He’s mine! Stay in your own class, for fuck’s sake! Why can’t you just do your job and protect a few Goddamn children?”

Hizashi puts a hand on Takahashi’s shoulder and yanks him back, snapping, “Don’t talk to him like that, you bastard.”

Before Takahashi can respond, Nedzu’s voice cuts through the room. “Everyone, sit down.”

Seething, Takahashi reluctantly loosens his grip on Shouta’s collar. He shoots one last bitter at the both of them and storms back to his chair, slumps down in it, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. 

Shouta remains standing. 

“Aizawa,” Nedzu says, and points one tiny paw at a chair that’s off to the side, one of three that’s obviously meant for Shouta and Hizashi and Nemuri, dragged up from a classroom and empty. “Take a seat.”

My fault, he thinks. This wasn’t supposed to happen. When he took up the case, he didn’t think that it would hurt anyone but him. My fault. He could deal with having to avoid his own house like the plague after he noticed that someone followed him there every time. He could deal with sleepless nights spent patrolling the stinking alleyways of lower Musutafu in search of a clue that would help him land an immoral motherfucker behind bars. He could deal with having to watch his back every time he so much as took a stroll down the sidewalk.

But this?

This was way over the fucking line.

“Aizawa,” Nedzu says, louder, like he thinks that Shouta hadn’t heard him the first time. “Sit down so that we can discuss our next course of action.”

Shouta stares at him, stares at Takahashi. My fault, he thinks, and he rolls the words around on his tongue until his jaw aches and he tastes blood in his mouth. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault my fault my fault my -

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says, and, without waiting for an answer, heads for the door and closes it behind him as he steps into the hall. 

He’s halfway to the parking lot by the time that Hizashi catches up to him, hooks his fingers around his wrist. “Shit, Shouta,” he says, and he sounds breathless. Shouta wonders how long it took him to realize that he was going to take care of this himself.

Shouta shakes off Hizashi’s hand and continues walking. “Don’t touch me,” he snaps. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“You were already so stressed, with the - with the case and stuff, and so -”

“Do you really think that matters? Me being stressed? When there’s a kid out there who’s probably scared out of his fucking mind, who gets -” Shouta gestures wildly, trying to convey a concept that he can’t quite find the words for. “Who gets fucking electrocuted every time that he asks a question? Not even every time he uses his Quirk! Every time he asks a question!” He rakes his fingers through his hair, shakes his head - he still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that someone could do that to a kid, even though he literally just witnessed it. “God,” he says, and sighs. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it's -” Hizashi sputters when Shouta just starts walking away again. “Hey, Shouta, what are you even planning to do?”

“Me?” Shouta asks, and his own voice sounds distant, even to his own ears. He thinks about his answer for a moment, and then he smiles, slow and steady. “I’m going hunting.”

[vintage-squid]

Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus  Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together  Word count: 10 363 

----- 

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

[noona-clock]

What’s Your Sign?: Sagittarius

Genre: Celebrity!AU

Pairing: Choi Minho x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Words: 5,534

Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜

Ever since you’d seen him in his first ever role on a television series about five years ago, you’d fallen in love with Minho.

Choi Minho, probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen. Through a screen, at least. You hadn’t yet been lucky enough to see him in person.

And since you’d fallen in love with him after watching his very first episode of that television series, you’d done nothing but support him for the last several years.

You saw every one of his movies the day it released in theatres. You watched every single episode of every single television show he appeared in -- even if he was just a guest star.

His popularity from his first role had soared pretty quickly, which was really a win/win scenario. Minho, who presumably had been a struggling actor previously, was now flush with offers from directors. And you, an immediate superfan, got to spend a lot of virtual time with your new favorite actor -- because, not only did he act in a very large handful of projects every year, he was also interviewed on talk shows, featured in magazines, walking the red carpet of premieres and award shows. He didn’t have a social media presence for some extremely odd reason, but you still felt like you knew him.

From everything you’d seen and read about him, Minho was outgoing, friendly, and charismatic. He was confident, straight-forward, and optimistic. He basically always had some version of a smile on his lips, and based on many posts in the Choi Minho subreddit, he never turned down an opportunity to meet a fan out in public.

He... was basically perfect.

And you couldn’t stop yourself from daydreaming about one day meeting him, falling in love, getting married, and having about ten children together in the most beautiful house in the universe.

But, to be fair, your daydream wasn’t entirely impossible!

You were a bit of a celebrity, yourself!

Kind of.

On the Internet.

You had started a YouTube Channel six years ago, and at first, you hadn’t really had a clear vision for your videos. An absolutely rookie mistake, of course, but there’s nothing you could do about it now.

You’d started off with makeup tutorials because that had been the hottest YouTube trend at the time. But... you quickly discovered you weren’t as good at makeup as one should be to post a tutorial online in good conscience. You also weren’t quite good enough at doing your nails, cooking, or sewing to do videos about those.

For at least a few months, you’d been stumped. You knew you wanted your own YouTube channel -- you had a pretty fitting personality for it -- you just didn’t have any one marketable skill.

Until, one day, you stumbled upon a video of a guy watching a K-Pop music video for the first time and reacting to it. That was literally it. The whole video had been just him watching and talking about it.

And you were very good at that. You loved watching things on a screen -- YouTube videos, television shows, movies, you name it! And you always had thoughts running through your head while you watched something. In fact, you frequently wished one of your friends had exactly the same taste in music, shows, and movies as you so you could voice those thoughts aloud to someone who actually wanted to listen.

So, how had you never thought of doing that on your YouTube channel?! There was obviously a market for it -- the guy you’d watched had a few hundred thousand subscribers, and since it was something you genuinely enjoyed doing, you weren’t afraid of running out of content inspiration or motivation any time soon.

It was literally the perfect idea.

The next day, you had set up your camera, pulled up the first episode of your favorite television show of all time, and got to work. When you posted the video a few hours later (Re-watching my FAVORITE show of all time), something about it just felt right. Like the stars had aligned. No matter if you got five views or five thousand, you knew you were on the right path -- when it came to YouTube, at least.

Every day after that, you chose something else to watch -- a nostalgic movie, a viral YouTube video, the really cheesy musical episode of a television show. You tried to pick things from all along the spectrum, and you also tried to wait a few days in-between continuing on with your re-watch of your favorite show, simply for variety’s sake.

Little by little, your channel began to grow. After work, you would film, edit, and post -- every single day. On the weekends, you would film two different videos in case you ever needed to take a day off. Or in case you just felt like posting two videos!

Your first sponsorship offer email had come about six months after you’d posted your first video, and your eyes had nearly fell out of your head when you’d seen how much they’d offered you. (Looking back, your first paying YouTube gig really hadn’t been that much money -- compared to what you could make now, at least -- but it had still been incredibly thrilling.) And, really, that had been the catalyst of your YouTube career and popularity. It seemed just the one sponsorship had been all you’d needed to catch the attention of other brands who wanted to work with you, and when you got to the point where you could actually afford to quit your job and turn down sponsorship offers you weren’t wild about? That’s when you knew you’d made it.

Okay, but really, you knew you’d made it when one of your videos hit one million views for the first time (a video of you watching a particularly cringe-worthy teen movie from about ten years ago).

And now, six years later, you had almost four million subscribers, and your most viewed video had almost twenty million views. Sometimes, you still couldn’t believe it!

The highlight of your time on YouTube so far -- at least, in your eyes -- had been when you’d seen Choi Minho for the first time about a year after starting your channel. You’d still had less then one-hundred thousand subscribers back then, so if anyone ever left on a comment on a video mentioning how long you’d been a Minho fangirl or remembering when you first discovered him, you knew they were an OG subscriber. But ever since that video, you did absolutely nothing to hide your affinity for him, both as an actor and as a person. You watched and reacted to every single one of his movies and every single television show episode -- you even sometimes reacted to interviews or videos other fans had made about him.

Even when your channel hit some pretty big milestones -- five-hundred thousand subscribers, one million, two million, three million subscribers -- you never played it cool when it came to Choi Minho. You switched up your content and your editing style here and there, but one constant on your YouTube channel was the fact you let your inner fangirl shine for all the world to see.

In fact, just last month, the trailer for his new movie dropped, and you were able to upload your reaction to it within two hours. Since then, you’d read and watched every interview you could find, favorited every tweet about the upcoming film, and liked every post on the #ChoiMinho hashtag on Instagram. Since he had no social media, you had to be satisfied with other people’s content rather than his own.

You were scrolling through his hashtag on Instagram right now, actually, as you procrastinated getting out of bed to go set up for another day of filming.

Now that you had almost four million subscribers and were approached by more than several companies for sponsorships every single day, you were able to focus on your channel full-time. You definitely got cabin fever from time to time, but it was worlds better than filming after work and on weekends. Now, you could actually take a day off whenever you wanted! It was glorious!

But you still procrastinated working. You were still human, after all.

After you caught up on his hashtag and liked just about every picture you could, you navigated to your inbox to look through your DMs. Over the years, it had gotten pretty easy to skip past the spam and sugar daddy requests (which were plentiful, unfortunately), so you no longer dreaded checking the unread messages. You could usually tell which ones to delete straight away from the profile picture and first few words alone.

To be quite honest, you really only opened ones where you either could tell someone was genuinely reaching out to say hi or thank you for posting your videos or... messages with Minho’s name visible in the preview. Shameless, but oh well!

After deleting a few messages at the top which were clearly spam, the next one you came to was actually one of those messages -- you saw ‘Minho’ in the preview. It was the very first word, even! And in all caps.

You pressed on it as quickly as you could.

And when your eyes took in the rest of the message... your heart stopped.

MINHO WATCHED ONE OF YOUR VIDEOS!

...This had to be a prank, right?

But right after the message in all capital letters was a link to a YouTube video, and the preview for the video was right below the message.

It was one of those videos put out by a big fashion magazine where celebrities watch videos about them and react to it. Usually, musicians and singers would react to covers of their songs by fans, but every once in a while, actors would read tweets or watch fanmade videos about them.

And when you clicked on the link this person had sent, the video opened in your YouTube app to show the title “Choi Minho Watches Fan Videos on YouTube,” and your eyes widened.

If what the Instagram message said was true... Minho had watched not only a fan video... but your fan video. And since his movie was premiering in just a couple of days, he had most likely watched your reaction to the trailer.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Since the video had started automatically after clicking the link, you took a deep breath and concentrated all of your focus on your phone screen. You were not going to miss the part where he watched your video.

But, of course, after not even thirty seconds, you found you had already gotten distracted by how handsome he looked.

You quickly shook your head a bit, widening your eyes briefly before narrowing them to focus on your screen again. “Come on, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself. “You can watch it again right after this to admire him.”

It was only a fifteen-minute video, so it’s not like you had to wait forever to get to the part where he watched you!

Still, though, as the minutes ticked by, you felt your heart begin to race in anticipation.

What would he say about you? Would he find your obsession with him creepy? I mean, it had to be a little creepy watching someone squeal and profess their love for you -- someone you’d never met!

But, then... when you got really mushy comments... most of the time, it didn’t feel creepy. It just felt sweet, and you were incredibly grateful that a lot of your subscribers and viewers were so supportive.

Ugh! You were getting off track again!

You shook your head once more and set your gaze back onto your phone screen.

Finally, when the clip of Minho watching a fanmade music video transitioned into the clip of him watching your video, your breath caught in your throat.

Were you going to survive this?

Outcome is unclear.

“Oh, yeah, I know her,” Minho said as your trailer reaction video began to play in the corner. “She’s the reaction girl, right?”

Your jaw dropped.

................Excuse me?!

Minho knew you?!

As you watched Minho watching you with the most adorable soft grin on his lips, your hand slowly crept up to cover your mouth in shock.

And, then, when you in the video paused the trailer to bring up another one of his movies that this trailer had reminded you of, his grin widened and he looked very pleased. “She knows her stuff, huh?”

You heard someone behind the camera murmuring something, and subtitles appeared on the screen. “She’s a known superfan, actually.”

Minho’s brow furrowed and he leaned toward the camera. “She’s what?”

“A superfan,” the person repeated, a little bit louder. “She’s known to her viewers for watching all of your movies and shows. There are always comments about you on all of her videos.”

Minho’s eyes widened a little in surprise. “Really? All of them? Comments about me?” He leaned back and nodded slowly after, apparently, receiving a positive answer. “I had no idea. I’ve just seen her videos about, like, the cheesy teen movies we watched as kids.”

You truly almost dropped your phone.

So... he knew who you were, but he hadn’t known that you fangirled over him on a regular basis?

First of all, how was that possible?

Second of all, did it really matter?! He knew who you were!

He knew who you were!

You didn’t expect that he regularly watched your videos, but still.

HE KNEW WHO YOU WERE!

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you watched him finish up watching your reaction video. The look on his face was one of delight, and even though you knew he was a good actor, it sure didn’t seem like he was simply pretending not to be creeped out.

“She’s so fun,” he smiled as your video ended, his gaze shifting back to the person he had spoken with earlier. “She has more? Like, for my movies?”

The person mumbled something back, and this time, there were no subtitles on the bottom of the video. But Minho’s eyebrows shot up immediately.

“All of my movies?” he asked. And then he let out a joyous chuckle and added, “No way.”

He quickly turned to the computer and clicked on your channel name.

But the video transitioned into another clip of someone else’s video, so you didn’t get to see if he actually watched any other ones.

Even if he hadn’t, you were still overjoyed -- to say the least -- that he had watched just one!

He knew who you were! He had actually known who you were before this which was probably the most surprising thing you’d ever heard in your entire life. (Besides the fact that Minho was currently single. That was definitely more surprising than anything.)

After sitting in your bed for a few minutes, staring blankly at your screen as the video finished up, your gaze unfocused and blurry, you finally came to when you realized the video had ended.

And then you proceeded to freak out.

You squealed and shrieked and kicked your legs and rolled around and scrambled to your feet to jump up and down on your bed with glee.

Was this the best day of your life?

Quite possibly!

Once you’d calmed down just a tad, you plopped back into a sitting position, crossing your legs into a pretzel as you navigated back to Instagram.

You sent a reply to the person who’d sent you the video (”OH MY GOD THANK YOU HE KNOWS ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”) and then refreshed your inbox.

As expected, a whole new slew of messages came through and literally every single one seemed to be about the video.

Your lips split into a huge grin, and just before you clicked on a random one to read and reply to it... you noticed that one message had a blue check by the sender.

Pausing, you shifted your gaze to that message.

And your heart jumped up into your throat when you recognized the name of the account.

Obviously, it wasn’t Minho himself because he didn’t have one.

But it was the next best thing.

His management company.

You followed them, of course, and liked every single picture about him or with him. Of course!

But you had never gathered up the courage to message them. You’d had no reason to! What would you have said?

And now they were messaging you.

The several days following the video of Minho watching your video had been... a blur. To say the least.

You still weren’t even really sure how you’d gotten here.

I mean, you knew you were here because Minho’s management company had direct messaged you on Instagram inviting you to the premiere of his movie and you had accepted without one millisecond of hesitation and then you’d gotten on a plane a couple of days later and then checked into a super nice hotel and had a stylist and makeup artist sent to your room and after many hours you now looked better than you ever had in your entire life.

That’s how you got here.

But you still weren’t even really sure how you’d gotten here.

A rather large stroke of luck?

Good karma?

Hard work to grow your YouTube channel into something that would make you more easily recognizable by actual celebrities and their management companies?

Or a combination of the three?

Either way, you were overwhelmed with gratitude, and you knew you would never be able to forget this experience -- even if you, for some odd reason, wanted to.

I mean, you were currently in a really nice car, and the driver (yes, you had a driver!) was taking you to the red carpet.

The red carpet!

An actual movie premiere! With an actual red carpet!

And the movie was Minho’s movie.

You were at the premiere of Minho’s movie.

Oh my god, what if you saw him?!

As the car rolled to a stop in front of a crowded theatre, your heart and stomach dropped down to your very expensive and gorgeous shoes.

You’d gone to somewhat fancy events before -- it came with the job of being a YouTuber -- but never anything like this. Never an actual movie premiere. Never the chance of seeing your favorite actor in the history of time. And, obviously, never walking a red carpet.

Your door magically opened just as the car stopped moving, and a hand popped out of nowhere to assist you in exiting the vehicle. As gracefully as you could, you slipped your fingers into the mysterious palm, allowing it to gently pull you up and out of your seat and onto the sidewalk.

Almost immediately, camera clicks, light bulb flashes, and inquiring voices filled the air.

Cameras and lights in your face, you were used to. It was your everyday life, in fact!

But... all these people? Looking at you? Watching you? Taking pictures of you?

I mean, yeah, a few million people watched your videos. But it was absolutely not the same as a hundred or so reporters and photographers standing right in front of you.

Thankfully, some short but very powerful woman guided you onto the red carpet, muttering to you that all you had to do was stand in front of the backdrop, pose and smile for the cameras, and then move on to the next mark. Some reporters from news and entertainment channels would be waiting along the way to interview you (which didn’t scare you quite so much as you’d been interviewed a few times before), and all in all, it would take about an hour.

But it took you way less than an hour to discover that walking a red carpet is not as glamorous as it looks on television.

Walking like your shoes were covered in almost-frozen molasses so every photo taken was a good one. Switching back and forth between facial expressions so every photo taken wasn’t the same one. And do you know how many good places there are to put your hands when posing for a picture? Exactly two. One was on your hip and the other at your side. That was it. Definitely not clasped in front of or behind you, and definitely not tucking your hair behind your ear.

And just when you were sort of getting used to the constant posing for pictures, another short but powerful woman gently grabbed your arms and led you to a reporter from the most-watched entertainment news channel in the country.

“Hello, hello!” the perky reporter chirped as you approached her. “Come on over here!”

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly as you made your way to the small mark on the ground next to her, holding up your skirt with one hand so you wouldn’t trip.

“Y/N! Good evening, good evening, how are you doing?” she asked before sticking the microphone in your face.

You had to quickly get over the shock of her knowing your name since you didn’t want to look like a fool on live television, so you forced a grin on your lips and answered, “I’m pretty overwhelmed, actually!” you chuckled.

“Is this your first time at a red carpet?”

“It is, yes,” you confirmed with a slight nod. “And I’m so used to being alone in my house, talking to myself in front of a camera, so this is all new territory for me.”

The reporter laughed with delight before asking which designer you were wearing. You answered her with ease since your stylist had drilled it into your brain before you’d left the hotel.

Then, after she asked you to tell the folks at home what you’re known for, she said, “It’s a pretty fun story of how you got here, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it is,” you answered, your lips pulling into a shy but excited grin. “I woke up one morning to a message on Instagram, and someone had sent me --”

The reporter interrupted you then, and you noticed her gaze was directed over your shoulder. You turned to look, and --

Well, the next few moments happened so quickly, you really had no idea how you reacted.

“Y/N!” Minho called out, smiling widely and waving before reaching out and sliding his hands over your shoulders. He stood next to you, squeezing you once before letting his arms drop down to his side. “I’m so sorry for interrupting --”

“No, we were just talking about why she’s here at your premiere!”

Minho’s smile brightened even more, and he continued on with the story you’d been telling.

Meanwhile, you were standing there. Mute. Staring at him.

Because oh my god.

How was it actually possible that Minho was more handsome in real life?

But also, how was it actually possible that Minho was standing next to you in real life?

But also also, how was it actually possible that Minho was real?

That’s the real question, isn’t it?

You came to when you heard him say, “Yes, this is our first time meeting,” before turning to you and holding out his hand for a handshake. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You took his hand, shaking it weakly, and said the first thing that came to your mind: “Oh my god, hi.”

The reporter giggled, but Minho, instead of acting embarrassed for you, simply let go of your hand and moved to pull you into a hug.

Holy cannoli, Minho was hugging you.

Choi Minho. Was hugging. You.

Hugging!

You!

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” he repeated with a grin after pulling away, though he was still incredibly close to you and gazing at you with those sparkling, dreamy eyes of his.

“You, too,” you managed to reply shakily.

The reporter then went on to interview Minho, asking him who had designed his suit, what his character in this new movie was like, and if he was working on any new projects.

“I’m in the early stages of something, yes,” he answered. “I don’t think I can say too much more, but in the meantime, I think I’d really like to film some videos with Y/N, branch out onto social media.”

Your heart stopped, and you knew your facial expression was doing nothing to hide your surprise.

Minho then turned to you with an adorably guilty look on his face. “I mean, if it’s alright with you, of course.”

“Yes, absolutely!” you burst out immediately, and the reporter giggled once again.

“Well, there you have it, guys,” she said after turning to face the camera. “You heard it here first -- a brand new collaboration in the works, so keep an eye out.”

She turned to you then and asked you to remind the viewers of the name of your YouTube channel. You leaned into the microphone and silently praised the lord you were able to remember it.

“Thanks so much, you two,” the reporter said with a very peppy grin. “Have a wonderful evening!”

“You, as well,” Minho answered before putting a hand in-between your shoulder blades and guiding you back to the red carpet.

Wait, he was guiding you back to the red carpet? He wasn’t... leaving?

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured in your ear, his breath causing the most delicious tingle down your spine. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be rude, I just wanted to meet you --”

“No,” you shook your head slightly. “It’s -- it’s totally fine. It wasn’t rude at all. I’m -- I just -- I’m a little overwhelmed. In a good way!”

“Totally understand. I remember my first movie premiere like it was yesterday, I know exactly how you’re feeling.”

You simply let out a nervous chuckle, but then Minho did something to make you even more nervous (which you hadn’t even been sure was possible).

He bent his arm and held out the crook of his elbow toward you.

“Shall we?”

Okay, you were now convinced this was a dream. This was all a wonderful, perfect, heavenly dream.

There was just no way that any of this could happen in real life! Being invited to Minho’s movie premiere was one thing, but him interrupting your interview on the red carpet and mentioning he wanted to film a YouTube video with you? Him offering to actually walk the red carpet with you on his arm?!

Nope. Definitely not real.

So, since this was absolutely a dream, you figured you’d just go with it!

“We shall,” you replied as a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

You slid your hand into the crook of Minho’s elbow, and the two of you slowly made your way down the red carpet. Together.

It didn’t take long for you to be awed by his professionalism. When the cameras began to flash, he posed like a natural. It seemed so easy for him, but you figured it probably was easy after going through this so many times. 

He murmured helpful hints and reassuring words to you as you struggled through, and he even insisted on doing his interviews with you by his side.

(Of course, before the two of you approached each reporter, he asked you quietly if you would rather have the spotlight all to yourself. He didn’t want to usurp your first experience on the red carpet and would gladly step away so you could finish the process on your own. You declined every single time.)

When you finally reached the entrance to the theatre about an hour later, you figured Minho would say it had been nice to meet you and be on his way.

But you should’ve remembered that this was a dream!

“Do you want to come inside? We can sit together during the movie if you want. I mean, you’re pretty much my unofficial date already, but you can absolutely say ‘no’ if you don’t --”

“I would love to,” you interrupted, your voice more sure and firm than it had been all evening.

But hearing your favorite actor and biggest crush of all time declare that you were his date for the night would do that to you. Plus, Minho literally exuded confidence and warmth -- you’d always thought so while watching him on a screen, and it was both relieving and exciting to learn he was exactly the same in real life.

Minho smiled at you and then led you into the theatre, your heart now basically in a constant state of flips and somersaults.

Once the two of you took your seats in front of the screen, Minho turned slightly toward you.

“I have to admit, I’ve been watching your videos a lot since I filmed the reaction for the magazine,” he said with the most attractive half-smile you’d ever seen in your life. “Seriously, thank you so much for being so supportive.”

“Oh my god, no, thank you,” you replied breathlessly. “I can’t believe you watched my videos.”

“They’re kind of addicting,” he chuckled. “I don’t know what it is, but I definitely understand why you have so many subscribers. I actually created my own YouTube account just so I could subscribe to you.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart actually stopped somersaulting because it stopped beating altogether.

“Are you serious?” you asked.

“You’re so entertaining! It feels like watching those movies and shows with a friend. And I like how you’re really honest but still nice about it. You don’t seem to have a cruel bone in your body.”

“Uh, no, I think you’re getting me mixed up with yourself,” you replied with a somewhat awkward laugh.

Minho simply grinned at you, and the somersaults started back up inside your chest.

“I was serious about wanting to film with you, though,” he said, eyebrows raised earnestly. “I would love to collab --”

“Yes, absolutely,” you reassured him as fervently as you could. “Literally whenever. Please. Yes.”

“Okay, good,” Minho chuckled before reaching into his pocket and sliding out his phone. “Here, give me your number so I can let you know when I’m free next.”

You hesitated before accepting his phone because...

What?!

Minho was giving you his phone. His actual phone. So you could put in your number? Your number?

This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable.

But you were never in a million years going to pass up the opportunity to give Choi Minho your phone number, so you took his phone and quickly added yourself as a contact.

“Perfect,” Minho murmured, almost to himself, when you handed his phone back to him. He looked at the screen for a few moments, and you noticed a soft grin pulling at his lips. And then he shifted his gaze over to you and said, “I can’t wait.”

And... as your eyes locked on his...

You had a moment.

A moment.

One of those moments you will never, ever forget as long as you lived.

One of those moments where your future basically flashed before your eyes.

Minho arriving at your house to film a video with you, a friendship forming, late night texts and phone conversations, going out to restaurants whenever he was in town... a more than friendship forming.

And you truly could’ve sworn this was not just your heart wishing, but... you honestly felt like you were going to marry this man.

“I can’t either,” you replied softly just before the lights went down.

The first thing you did when you got home was set up your camera and film a video relaying everything about your experience at Minho’s movie premiere.

Of course, you didn’t mention The Moment -- y’know, the moment you had when you realized you were most probably going to marry him? And you could just feel that it wasn’t wishful thinking? You figured it was probably best to keep that to yourself for now.

But everything else you shared with your subscribers, and you did nothing to hide how wonderful and magical it had all been -- and it had really been Minho which had made it so perfect.

“And you guys, he is truly exactly the same in person as he seems in, like, interviews and stuff. He’s so nice and so friendly and so warm and so gracious and --”

But you were interrupted by a text message.

Most of the time, you left your phone on silent as you filmed, but you’d been too excited to get all of your thoughts out that you’d forgotten to switch the sound off before turning the camera on.

“Whoops,” you murmured as you reached for your phone on your desk in front of you.

Instead of simply turning your phone on silent, though, the actual text message you’d received caught your eye and was too intriguing to ignore.

It was from a number you didn’t have saved, but your instinct to read the first few words of a message from an unknown sender took over... and you were incredibly glad it did.

Because the message was:

Hey, it’s Minho 😁 Are you free next week?

OTHER SIGNS: ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, CAPRICORN, AQUARIUS, PISCES

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

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prev chapter

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Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

_____

A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

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next chapter

[laketaj24]

The Rules IV: Triggered

Author’s Note: Thank you all soo much for your input!!! It helped me out more than you know! This was fun as hell to write and I hope you’re down for a ride! It’s about to go down. There are two songs that really hit the nail on the head for this part, they are linked below! Happy Reading my people!

Pairing: CEO!Henry Cavill X Reader

Warning: Angst. SMUT. DRAMA.

Want to catch up! Click HERE

Song Inspirations: Jhene Aiko: Triggered (First Part) Jhene Aiko: P*SSY Fairy

If your heart slowed anymore, you’d collapse. But it wasn’t just the lethargic beat of your heart that slowed down. The kiss. The fucking kiss was being replayed in your head over and over, the way she cupped him, the way his lips touched hers and he deepened it. You feel the bile rise at the helm of your throat and you step back.

“Excuse me.” You whispered to a bewildered Alex, “I need to leave.”

He noticed. You could tell by the way he looked back to Henry and then you. His tall frame went from relaxed to apathetic. “Is it him?” He gave a wave in Henry’s direction and then stepped closer to you. “Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You attempted to push your way through the crowd and caught an opening into the gala hall. Alex was on your feet, his long strides made it easy for him to catch you. “Hey, I can’t talk about it right now.”

Your mind raced, he took a month away from you, was it because the entire time he had her? Were you some fucking mistress, side-chick, side bitch… Homewrecker? Inwardly you taunted yourself with the unceasing line of insults to yourself. Fuck! Fuck.

“Look.” Alex cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. His presence kept you from bolting into the nearest room and destroying everything in it. You were grateful for that, maybe. “He is not worth you not enjoying this night. Do you know how beautiful you are right now? Every eye in the building was with you when we arrived. Make him mad, but don’t let him win. He did nothing to deserve a win apparently.”

The pep talk worked and more and more you were starting to understand why Alex was a friend you didn't want to lose regardless of what happened. The first dance is casual, you fight tears watching the woman touch his hand, laid her hand on his chest and laugh like he was a comedian. He wasn't that damn funny. You stay for an hour, it was required to stay an hour, you have done only what was expected of you and nothing more. Alex took you home, the car ride is silent besides the occasional murmur of a curse word under your breath.

Home is what you craved more than anything, once the door was closed and Alex's driver left you released a scream that scared you, followed by a sob as you felt your heart literally break. What a fucking feeling? Grief for someone who didn't deserve it. You didn't drink to solve your problems, so alcohol was a no. Sleep was the obvious answer.  The dress felt like it burned your skin, you were certain it didn't, but the fact that it came from him made it poison. He was poison, that you willingly chugged down like a vintage wine and now the repercussions had finally made their grand entrance. And fuck them.

Why were you looking them up, they were a known couple, known to everyone but you? You typed in his name and nothing but her appeared Billionaire Henry Cavill and Olivia Tate grace the Emmy's with their presence. Will this playboy finally settle down? Olivia Tate has HC's heart around her finger. You were sick again. You throw the phone on the couch and screenshot the picture of him kissing her. Is this the future Mrs. Cavill?

You changed clothes, slipping the crop top and leggings on. You knew it wasn't the end of the night. And you were right, sleep does not come. He sends you seven messages, each of which you stared at trying to formulate a response, but they didn't merit one, until the last one.

Henry: I've been looking for you for an hour. Where are you?

Henry: You left without a word? Are you mad or something?

Henry: A response would be nice.

Henry: Y/N

Henry: Y/N. I'll find you later.

Henry: Be there in ten.

Y/N: Drive safe. Are you bringing the wife with you?

You hit send of the picture you'd saved.

Henry: Wow.

The wait for him to arrive only infuriates you more, your mother had always said your temper was like a wildfire, once it sparked it would consume everything to the ground. You knew she was right; Henry even knew your temper needed to be managed, but no one fucking managed you. This included Henry. He didn't knock. He never did really, he entered with his perfectly tailored suit and an eye roll. And the lamp crashed behind him. He ducks, but his face is shocked.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed.

"My fucking two-hundred-dollar lamp." You picked up the shoes and hurled them across the room next and he ducked as if he knew they were coming and charged towards you. You moved from his grasp. "You have been with her for a year!" It roared out of you and then the tears followed. "Why did you even come over here? Did you think I would be okay with it? Do you think I want to be your whore? Come when you say, fuck when you say and then you go home to her. Don't touch me!!"

"You're not going to let me explain, are you?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Explain Henry, tell me what lie did you conjure up, while headed here. She's just a friend. I wasn't with her." you shake your head and Henry folds his arms across his chest. "Is she the reason you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Are you finishing acting like-."

"Say it!" You cut him off and step closer to him. You wanted to hit something, but his face was too pretty for that shit, and despite your anger, your mother raised you better than that, "Like what Henry? Get out."

"Y/N."

"I said get the fuck out!"

His jaw clenched and he pushed his hands through his thick mane of brown curls, ending the polished look he had earlier. "I'll call you later."

"Oh, no the fuck you won't." You opened the door to Alex standing there with his eyes on Henry. Why was he back? "He was just leaving." You explained to Alex. "Bye."

Alex stepped aside and held up the brown bag, you could smell the Chinese and noticed the wine bottle. "We didn't get to eat." He explained. The smug grin on his face sealed the night, he was a good guy.

You smiled and watched Henry stare at him before looking back at you. He shook his head, "Goodnight."

"Fuck you." You whispered.

In the past hearing, people say they were numb sounded foolish, of course, they felt. A human cannot simply shut it all off, but you were wrong. So wrong, it was easier to go numb than to feel. It started with work, your time invested in the company allotted you vacation three fucking weeks, paid and free.

The first week you spent with Alex, not fucking his brains out like a part of you wanted to but being a friend. He allowed you to talk, you told him everything and he listened with no judgment and that made it easier. Tia was around too, she spent the night with you when she could, in between hair appointments and makeup slots. Her career was changing fast, you were happy for her even if you barely showed it at times.

The second week you shut them both out. You told them you were out of town, but you were in your apartment with food and tear-soaked pillows. His phone calls had stopped, but you feared it was only because you changed the number. Work could contact you via email if they needed to, but no one even called you during the first two weeks. The marketing strategy you left would do well, you knew it. And besides your certainty in your program, you didn’t care what Cavill Industries did at the moment.

The third week, everything went numb, there were no more tears to cry. Every inkling of him that existed was gone, including the $6000 dollar dress. You burned it and at that final act, the night was gone from your mind. He’d broken the rules. You’d both set them and when he kissed her, he disqualified himself.

The first day back to work your anxiety had you in its grip. Every phone call and opening of your door you dreaded. But he didn’t come. He wasn’t even in the building, according to your boss and that eased everything. You could work with him not being anywhere near you, and that made you apply to the other firms that had once been interested in you. You got two calls immediately. Matheus Corporate wanted to hire you without an interview and after the offer they sent, you were taking it. You typed out your resignation letter and turned it into HR. It was the right choice.

It was a month before you saw him again, and the Cavill you saw briefly in the lobby looked nothing like the one you had grown accustomed to. His hair was wild, and he had a beard, an actual beard. His slate-blue eyes were tired as were his movements. Just seeing him triggered you, the horrid memories of that night flooded your head and the pain resurfaced. Being numb would not be possible around him. You knew it. You hid in the stairwell like an idiot and avoided him. Nine more days of work here and you would be clear.

“Look, the way I see it, we are friends now.” Alex kicked his feet up on your desk and looked to you for affirmation.

You gave it to him nodding your head and chugging down your third bottle of water. “Yes, we’re friends. So, when I call you up at midnight and you’re with your little girlfriend cuddling and things you still have to make an appearance.”

“Girlfriend?” He scoffed.

“You heard me.” You pointed at him.

“I’m hoping one day the little girlfriend, I am cuddling will be you.” He smiled. “There is no rush and no expectation for it. But I didn’t want you to leave this place, oblivious to the fact that I really like you.”

Your heart warmed and you smiled. “Nine days to go and your boldness is out the bag.”

He shrugged. “Did I get brownie points?”

“A whole cake.” You said. You were back to work an hour later, singing under your breath when the door opened.

“I told him to wait outside.” Your assistant said, trying to beat Henry in the office. She turned to you. “Ms. YLN, Mr. Cavill is here to see you.” But he was already in front of your desk.

“Get out.” He said to her.

“Whatever you have to say to me, she can hear.” For some reason, you knew if the door closed you would succumb to him, “Speak.”

“You are not leaving.” His voice was not composed, just wavering and near weak. “Y/N.”

“Gianna, you can go.” You exhaled. What the hell had happened to him? She left the room and the space that once seemed huge started to shrink. Henry walked towards you and you held your hand up when he reached your desk. “What?”

“You changed your number.”

“What did you expect?”

“For you to give me a chance to explain,” His eyes plead with yours for the opportunity. “Can I have that please?”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, I was never yours, right?”

“You’re still mine.” The slight possessiveness came back to his voice.  

It made you weak for a moment, your hitched breath took over the silence. “Hurry up, Henry.”

“She is my girlfriend.” He said.

The words punch at a wound you were certain was nearly healed. You hoped he was going to say that he left her, the pathetically infatuated part of you wanted him to say, she dumped him. But he just reaffirmed what you already knew. Olivia Tate was the official girlfriend of Henry Cavill. “Thanks?” You swallowed. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t want her to be, I want you.”

“You are making no sense and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to throw things at you here. I just wanted to leave all this in the past. Go be with her.”

“Y/N.” He said your name as if he was fighting for breath. “There are some things you do not understand about me. Things I would rather not talk about, but I don’t want her.”

“Then leave her! Damn it.” You bit out. “You are a grown man. You can make decisions on your own. If you didn’t want her then end it. End it now.”

“I can’t talk here.”

“Where else are you gonna talk?” You laughed. “My place? Hell no.”

“Mine.” He shook his head. “I’ll send a car for you after work. Don’t make them work Y/N. Just come.” He looked at you. “Please.”

“Fine.”

 You didn’t fight his orders on meeting him, curiosity reared its ugly head and you were gone. His home was at the edge of town, the driveway curved up a hill and lead to the glass estate. It was incredible. Had you been here on better circumstances, you would have enjoyed the view. You stepped out and the door opened. Henry had shed the suit for a black shirt and black sweats that hung at his waist somehow accenting his frame. Fuck. Were you even going to be strong enough to say no to this god? One last fuck? Just to say goodbye fuck, it wouldn’t be frowned upon.

You argued with yourself and walked into the home, the décor was much like his office dark brown woods with a modern sense. You stood in the foyer and looked at him. The closer to the door you were, the more likely you were to say no to him without hesitation.

“I can’t shut you out of my mind.” He confessed. He had shaved, but his hair was still tucked behind his ears, longer than normal.

“Just tell me.”

“I met Olivia in college.” He sighed. “We used to date off and on, but it was never more than sex. Never.”

“That’s all it is with us.” You interrupted. “Hence the reason I don’t need this talk.”

“Then why’d you come?” Henry stared. “I have been infatuated with you for months and when I finally got the opportunity to be with you, I jumped at it.”

“Don’t feed me bullshit.” You held your hand up.

“Who do you think hired you?”

“Why can’t you just leave her?” You asked.

“She knows things about me that can ruin me.” he stopped talking. “Liv is talented at getting the things she wants. If I leave her, she’ll spill it.”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here!” You laugh. “You expect me to believe this Lifetime movie shit? You got a girlfriend and you want me too. Admit it.”

“I don’t want her.” He shook his head. “I want you.”

“You can say it until you’re blue in the face. If you don’t show me, how in the fuck am I supposed to believe that this… isn’t just a way for you to get what you want.”

Henry sunk to his knees. “I’ll beg you.”

“Dogs beg.” You spat.

“Anything.” He rasped.

“Do you know how bad I hurt? I didn’t work for weeks. I didn’t care for weeks. We’ve been together a month. Do you think my behavior was normal? Do you think yours is normal? No. We are bad for one another and I just…”

How did he get up so fast? You moved back and he was on you, his steps heavy and determined. He caged you against the wall and then you realized, his face was wet with tears.

“You have to believe me.” He whispered and the fear clawed through him. “Please.”

There was an urge pushing you to leave this place, nothing good can come from him. But his face was pained, you’d never seen this part of him. You cupped his face affectionately and your lips graze his cheek. It feels as if he shutters and then you just do it. You hesitantly kiss him. Your lips touch his and the energy that passes through you ignites a groan.

“Please.” The plea is accompanied by him responding to the kiss, tenderly. He leaned into you, his body blanketing to you and taking whatever breath you thought you had left. But you were sure that he took your breath away without a kiss. His brow furrowed as he deepened it pushing your head against the door. He wrapped his arms around you, swaddling you in his muscles while somehow it wasn’t the muscles that you felt. For the first time, he was being himself with you. He allowed you to feel what you didn’t even know was there.

He pulled back from you and he moved as if he was dizzy. The breath he had stolen from you had made it's way back to you and you inhaled. There was more than a desire that flickered between the two of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

His eyes flashed with a little hope. “Same.” Henry didn’t wait for permission he just scooped you up from the floor and kissed you again, this time it hurt. The hurt is so fucking good.

“I want,” the words were caught in your throat. Was this right or were you spiraling? “I want you, here. Right here.” He lowered you both down on the steps so that you were straddling him, you didn’t care for his comfort. You wanted him to feel you. “You remember the rules?” You whispered. Your tongue licks his lips and then dives in and he’s taken back, gripping your ass that is winding on his dick. You can feel him through the sweats. “Hmm…”

“I could never forget.”

“Don’t cum unless I say.” You smiled before kissing him again. You bucked your hips on and his eyes widened the lust pushing through. “You hear me, sir?” Your voice was low and filled with lust. “I want to fuck you right here.” He grew harder, flinching against you. “I want you to moan my name when you cum…”

Henry’s hands were in your hair, pulling you back so he could see your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to, just fuck me.” He begged.

“Did you miss me?”

“Always.” He groaned lowering his head to your breast. He sprung the from the blouse and ripped it in two. “Always.”

You wanted to believe him, but the lingering hurt from the past month. “If you lie to me again,” You unsheathed him from his sweats and stroked your hand down the length of his cock. You swiped the precum that oozed from the tip down and pumped again. “Missing me is all you’ll know how to do, sir.”

“Fuck,” He jumped in your hand and sucked air in through his teeth.

“Understand?”

“I-,” He moaned when you increased your speed. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” You were so turned on by the way you were making him feel. You now understood why he wanted to be in control of everything in the bed. It was sexy as fuck to watch what you could do to someone. You could watch them unravel, put them back together and do it again.

Henry pushed the pen skirt up and easily ripped the panties. He tossed them behind you and his fingers were in you. Prodding and working, you fucking missed him, even though you shouldn’t have. “Y/N.” He moaned. “I’m almost there.” He panted.

You stopped stroking him and began to ride his fingers, lifting yourself from them and then back on until the next time Henry pushed his cock in. He was fighting every urge he had to allow you some control in this thing. He threw his head back when he was fully inside of you and stilled.

But you wanted to fuck him. You wanted to ride him slow and draw out every fucking moment you could with him. So, if you regretted being here in the morning, the walk of shame wouldn’t have too much shame. Your walls sealed around him and he gripped your hips trying to stop you from fucking him, but you continued. Your rhythm was wild, you used his shoulders like an anchor and smiled down at him. His face was red and misted with sweat. His curls were soaked, and he was mesmerized. Your tits bounced in front of him and your eyes were rolling. “Y/N.” He warned and you felt his cock grow harder and then he growled, shuddering in your breast as if he had waited forever to cum inside of you.

“Seems you broke a rule.” You laughed and continued to fuck him. He made sounds that only made you wetter for him and the man was part machine. He had to be as his cock grew back rigid and he was still shuttering from coming the time before.

Henry licked his fingers and slapped them onto your clit before he pulled you towards him. His fingers knew how to work your pussy. Moving in circles and then another slap before he started back again, and you were about to cum. You didn’t want to. You shook your head and Henry looked up at you, “I won’t last another time. I ca-,” Your pussy shook around his and your thighs locked down as the pleasure surged through your body. “Shit!” He yelled before slamming into you and spilling his cum again. “Y/N.” He rasped.

The floor wasn’t a bad place to lay for the time being. Henry was wrapped around your naked body and there was no need for cover. He kept you warm enough.

“Was she the reason you didn’t kiss me?”

He exhaled. “She,” he paused. “I never know when she will decide to come back into my life.” He admits. “And up until you, it was easier not kissing, that way when it ended… there were no emotions in it. It was just fucking. I can’t do that with you, okay? A single glance from you could make my heart stop, a kiss would have shattered me.” Henry admitted.

It was quiet for a while. Just deep breaths and kisses all down your body. “Let’s go to bed.” You said finally. “My boss would be mad as hell if I missed tomorrow.”

“I’m throwing you resignation away, and if you’re having problems out of Mike… I’ll fire his ass.” He stood up and reached his hand out to you. “Come on, the bed is the proper place to make sure you’re so tired work isn’t an option.”

  His bed was comfortable, the sheets were so soft you were tempted to ask where he got them. You slept peacefully entangled in the muscled mass that is Henry. But it was not a complaint to make, being without him for so long made you grateful you could listen to him breathe and feel his heart against your back.

“Thank God.” The unfamiliar voice came from the bottom of the bed.

Your eyes narrowed as the bright sun made its way through the windows. The blonde hair was the first take away, it was Olivia. You scrambled from under Henry’s body. “Henry!” If she wanted a fight, you were ready to fight her, you’d just prefer to not be naked while doing it.

Henry groaned and once he caught sight of her he jolted up from the bed. “Olivia. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t be rude. I was just saying thank God.” Olivia leaned over his legs and looked at you. “I hated watching him mope around here. He looked like a puppy, sad because his bitch went away.”

“Bitch? I beg your pardon, Henry if you don’t get this woman.” Henry gave an admonished look to Olivia and gripped your hand. It didn’t comfort you. It just pissed you off. You snatched your hand away from him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” One more foul word from her and you’d fight naked.

“Excuse my manners, darling. I’m Olivia and I am so glad you are here. It seems we have some rules to introduce.” She pushed up from the bed and left the room. “Chop, chop Henry, dear. Bring your bitch, I have a plane to catch.”

[attackonmyself]

Beat the Heat--NSFW

Inspired by a prompt from @voltage-vixen​‘s Summer of Smut Writing Challenge but took waaaaay too long for me to complete, and I missed the deadline. Anyways, thanks to @voltagesmutter​, @passagesthroughpages, and Lia_Jones (all amazing writers themselves!) for all your help! Dedicated to all Victor stans, and my Discord family!

Please see this amazing artwork that inspired my fic!: https://m.sg.weibo.com/user/2173912080/4472175635540915

And also this Karma owned by MLQC:

Link on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654276

I sprinted into the LFG lobby, out of breath. I was late. Again. 

Cindy spotted me, and quickly gestured towards the stairs. “He’s been waiting for you, go on up.” I groaned, still out of breath, then crossed the lobby. Great, I thought as I ran up the stairs. Another lecture on punctuality, coming right up. I stopped before the office door, taking a moment to catch my breath before knocking.

“Come in,” came the clipped reply. Even better, it sounded like he was already in a bad mood. This should be fun. I entered, closing the door behind me. Victor was sitting at his desk, skimming something on his computer. He looked up, removing his glasses and placing them next to his desk calendar. “It is 2:33.”

I grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

His normal poker face had been replaced with a scowl. “What time did I say to be here?”

“2:30.” It didn’t matter how close we had become, some things never changed. When at work, Victor was always in prime CEO mode, any trace of my shy and sweet boyfriend disappearing the moment he walked in the office doors. 

“It seems your memory is indeed working today, despite all evidence to the contrary. So perhaps you like to explain why that was not the time you entered my office?” Being on the receiving end of a Victor-Li-is-irked glare was never a good experience, but unfortunately, that was often the position I found myself in.

“Our printer jammed at the last second, and wouldn’t print a contract that my 1:30 client needed to sign before they could leave, so I was stuck there calling maintenance and then waiting for them to show up, and then waiting for them to fix it, and then--”

“Stop. I’ve heard enough.” He rubbed his temples, eyes closed. “You do realize this is the modern era, yes? Contracts can be sent over email, and signed digitally. We will need to discuss your company’s disturbing lack of adaptation to current technology at another time; you have wasted enough of it already. Begin your report.” 

“Right.” I pulled out my newly purchased tablet and cleared my throat. “As you can see, we exceeded our predicted revenue this month. Views that we lost last week were not just recovered, but doubled.” I fidgeted a bit under his intense stare. 

“I implemented the ideas we discussed last week, and they were successful  For future consideration, I’d like to bring to your attention--”

The soft whirring of the air conditioning of the building sputtered to a startling halt. I paused, and looked at Victor for direction. He sighed, and picked up the phone on his desk when it began to ring. “Speak.” I heard a hurried voice on the other end, and watched Victor’s frown deepen. “What?” More frantic explanation from the voice, trying to appease him, and then Victor hung up. 

“Something wrong?” I asked, hoping that an urgent matter had come up, so that I could move my report to later when he would hopefully be in a better mood.

“The air conditioning stopped working. It will take a few hours to fix.” I groaned internally. It was the middle of July, peak season for hot days, and Victor’s office was directly in the sun’s path at the moment, the windows offering no protection from its heat. He shed his suit jacket, draping it over the arm of his chair. “Continue,” he commanded.

“Uh,” I scrambled to remember my place. “For future consideration, I’d like to bring to your attention trendlines predicting future revenue on episodes based on current events.” I began to sweat, already missing the almost too cold climate I had complained about in the past, and vowed to never do so again. 

“Our most popular episodes to date have been ones related to current issues in the news. Our recent collaboration with Loveland TV gave us access to topics and resources that we might not have had otherwise. Therefore, I propose that we begin a new series to be aired in conjunction with local news stations beyond just Loveland TV that would cover oddities addressed in daily reports.” 

Ok, the heat had officially become unbearable. I took off my white cardigan, putting in on top of my bag. Victor did a double-take, eyes widening. Uh oh. I forgot how casual my dress was. I tried to distract him with the report. “The series would cover not just super powers, but also delve into the psyche--”

“Stop, stop.” Crap. He was still staring at my dress. “What do you think you’re wearing?!”

“Uh, a sundress?” I responded dumbly. He glared at me. I fumbled for an excuse, though not knowing why I needed one exactly. “It’s the middle of July. I know it’s not formal business attire without the cardigan, but it’s hot in here without the AC. I thought you would understand that and be ok with me not wearing it considering the circumstances.”

He gaped, apparently shocked. “You thought wrong. Do you seriously not realize how alluring that dress is?”

Wait what? “Huh?”

He shook his head. “Dummy, you are astoundingly naive sometimes. Wearing that to any presentation, including this one, leads the audience to focus not on your proposal, but your physical assets.” I blushed, and covered myself a bit with my arms. He continued. “For example, I missed everything you presented after taking off your cardigan. Be thankful this was only a weekly report meeting, and not an official proposal for more funding with the entire board present.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk.

I looked down, ashamed. “I really am sorry, Victor. That would have embarrassed both Miracle Company and you; I understand now and I will do better in the future.”

“No, you misunderstand me.” He stood, and strode quickly towards me, crossing the room in a few broad steps. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look him in the eye. “The only person who should see you in outfits of this nature is me.” It was the hunger in his eyes that made me realize I was no longer talking to the CEO of LFG, but Victor Li, my protective and now aroused boyfriend.  

Desperate lips met mine, taking my breath away. I was always weak for his kisses, this time literally. My knees gave in a bit, and I held onto his arms as he pushed deeper. I eagerly reciprocated, a need for his touch growing rapidly under my navel. We broke apart for only a moment, before he claimed my lips again and ran strong fingers up my neck and into my hair, gently nudging my face closer to his. 

Victor was not a man of many flowery words, but he made up for it in his actions. Every kiss we shared was so fervent that you would think it was going to be our last. Even in moments of raw passion, it was obvious how deeply he cared for me, and I fell more in love with him each time our lips united. This kiss was no exception; I sank into his yearning for me, throwing my arms around his neck. 

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around my thighs, and I felt myself being lifted into the air. I scrambled to wind my legs around his waist, holding him tighter. We were intimately closer than before, and I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It amazed me that I could have such an effect on the seemingly stoic mogul, that I could be the one to break his cool. His lips captured mine once more, then he impatiently moved us towards his desk. 

“Hold tight,” he instructed, using one arm to awkwardly clear off the desktop, sending pens and his mouse flying. He set me atop it, beginning to suck at the pulse point above my collarbone, when reality hit me.

“Wait, stop,” I whispered harshly. He immediately backed away, arms to his side.

“What’s wrong?” Concern overtook ardor, and he scanned my figure. “Did I hurt you?” That thought seemed to shake him a bit.

“No, nothing like that,” I quickly reassured him. “But...should we really be doing this in your office? People might hear, or worse, what if someone came in?”

His confidence immediately returned, desire resuming its place in his eyes as I mentioned others overhearing our stolen moment of passion. He smirked, leaning in close.

“Let them hear.” He continued his attack on my neck, but I wouldn’t be swayed just yet.

“Victor,” I chided. “I’m not comfortable with someone catching us in your office. That wouldn’t look good for either of us.” He stopped, judging my sincerity, then walked away. 

“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, reaching out an arm towards him needily, missing his warmth already. Had I angered him?

“Relax, dummy.” He strode up to the door and turned the lock, its satisfying click signaling his intentions. He turned and smiled devilishly. “No one is going anywhere until we are finished.” 

He hastened back to me, as if I were his prey, strung up and waiting for him on a platter. He kissed me again, and loosened his tie to quell the sweltering heat. I grabbed for his shirt, undoing the first few buttons before he stopped me with a lick to a particularly sensitive area behind my earlobe. He undid his tie the rest of the way and set it down beside me on the desk. I finished unbuttoning his shirt, untucking it roughly. I gulped upon being met with the sight of his broad chest. As if controlled by some unknown force, my hands ran over his torso, brushing his collarbone and hips alike, searching for any point of contact with him. 

He placed feather light kisses all over my face and neck, brushing my cheek; my eyelids; the small v formed by my collarbones. As lovely as his display of affection was--and it truly was; not often did we get a chance to bask in the other’s devotion--it wasn’t quite enough. I needed more. 

I ran my hands down his abdomen, grabbing for his belt buckle, but he caught my hand in his and tsked. 

“Someone needs to learn to be patient.” His hands left me, and I let out a whine. He picked up the flimsy piece of fabric that lay beside me and wrapped it around my face, covering my eyes. 

“Is this okay?” I heard a soft whisper beside my left ear. 

His breath tickled me a bit, paused in anticipation of my answer. I hold absolute control over him at this moment, I realized with a small gasp. The power was a heady feeling; Loveland’s most eligible ‘bachelor’ was all mine, treating me as if I was some queen to be worshipped. Although he was leading most of the action, I held the ropes. And I would be ever so careful not to abuse this gift. What’s more, after years of having to take care of myself on my own, I now could trust him. Completely. 

“Yes.” 

That one word spurred him back into action. He quickly fastened the makeshift blindfold behind my head, careful to avoid knotting my hair with it. I heard a low groan, and then my skirt was pushed up, warm hands rubbing slow circles on my inner thighs. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine, sending shivers down my spine. "There is nothing I would not do to keep you safe and happy."

I bucked my hips towards his, searching for any friction to relieve my need. Suddenly, I felt a hand over my underwear, massaging my clit leisurely. I let out a breathy moan. Finally. His steady fingers ran back and forth across the fabric, gentle yet firm in their ministrations. "Faster, please Victor," I gasped, spreading my legs. He obeyed, for once, going faster and faster until all fear of others intruding disappeared. I could only think about him, his touch, and my palpable desire to become one with him. 

I could feel a flush rise in my cheeks, the sounds coming from my mouth garbled and brimming with pleasure. I reached blindly for him, needing to touch him for stability; so that I could hold off my climax a little longer, but was met only with air. I let out a whine. I heard a chuckle from somewhere in front of me. Seconds later, strong hands guided mine to his shoulders; his warm body moved closer, parting my legs further.

I was already beyond wet by this point, and I felt ready for him but knowing Victor, he wouldn't enter me until he was sure I was relaxed and ready for him. "Please, hurry up, I need you, now," I urged.

Surprisingly, he decided to grant my request. I heard the soft clink of a belt buckle being undone followed by a rustling of fabric. I hooked my ankles behind him, wanting, no, needing him in me as soon as humanly possible. A hand ran through my hair, and then my underwear was pushed to the side;  in one fluid motion he had both lifted me into the air and entered me with a soft moan. I gasped, throwing my head back and digging my fingers into the well-defined muscles of his shoulders.

The sensation of him inside me was more intense in the dark. I felt so safe, protected and satisfied in his arms. It was as if all my fears and worries had melted away. I knew that he would shield me from any incoming darkness that dared to threaten me. He pulled back for a moment, then slowly slid inside me once more, giving me time to adjust and savor the feeling of us, united as one. 

We maintained a comfortable rhythm, my hips grinding down to meet his as I panted against his neck. There was no need for words; anything that needed to be said was communicated through movement and small gasps and moans. I realized that I could no longer hear the ticking of the wall clock, its telling absence revealing that time was no longer in motion. 

I drew in a breath to mention it, but he suddenly changed to a different angle, shifting me in his arms, and sparks burst behind my eyelids. “Don’t you dare stop, right--right there!” I practically screamed. He hummed in confirmation, building speed. I let out a series of whines, bouncing down into his thrusts in desperation to add to the surging, rising tide of pleasure that's only just out of reach. I could hear Victor’s pleasure as well in the short, cut off breaths he let out. 

“Are you close,” he ground out, ever the gentleman in refusing to come before me. 

“Very,” I replied, concentrating on my climax, adding a finger to my clit. A few more strokes, and it hit me--hard. I screamed out his name and clenched around him. He gasped, and I felt a warmth inside me as he tightened his grip on me. The waves of pleasure taking hold of me ebbed slowly; suddenly, I could see again, tie dropping to the floor.  

Victor cradled me close and kissed the top of my head. We remained entangled in each other’s embrace for a few moments longer, catching our breath. He slid out of me, but didn’t let me go. I buried my face in his neck, flushing at the whispered “I love you��� that came from beside my ear. 

Suddenly, the ticking resumed and the space that was only ours returned to being shared with the rest of the world. I was gently set down on the desk, and I grabbed a tissue to clean myself up. We began to redress and had almost finished when there was a knock at the door. 

“Sir, the mechanics from Four Seasons Heating and Air have arrived,” Goldman’s voice came from behind the solid wood. “Would you like to direct them or should I handle it?”

Victor gestured at my cardigan, “That goes on; tightly,” he said in a low voice, then he grabbed his suit jacket and approached the door. I buttoned it quickly, barely finishing in time before he swung the door open. 

There was an awkward silence as Goldman took in our appearance. He did a quick double take, then stammered an apology. “Sir, I--uh--”

 I flushed brightly; there was no way to conceal what we had been up to. Only Victor stood stoic as always, not caring about our disheveled state or the smudge of my lipstick on the corner of his mouth. “Mark me as booked for the next two hours,” he announced, glancing at his watch. “I expect the air conditioning to be up and running when I return.”

“Next two hours--but sir! You have the meeting with the investors from--” Goldman was cut off with a glare. Typical. I felt sorry for him. 

“Did I ask for any feedback? I said that I am booked for the next two hours. Make any schedule changes necessary in my absence.” He put an arm around my waist and led me out of the room in the direction of the elevator. 

“But sir!” Victor paid him no mind and as the door closed, he pulled me into another kiss. 

“How do you feel about lunch at Souvenir?” 

“Mm, sounds great!” I replied, smoothing down his slightly rumpled shirt. Oh! Pulling back with a smile, I suddenly laughed. “Victor!”

He frowned. “What.”

“You forgot your tie!”

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Nineteen. April, 2016. 

He gets back to London and throws himself straight into it—writing, playing, fixing everything. It’s a little easier than he expected it to be, finding a life for himself here, fitting himself back into society. It turns out, Niall learns, that dropping off the face of the Earth for a few months doesn’t actually erase your existence from the world, and your friends still want to see you when you get back.

He spends every day in the studio, head shoved into a notebook, fingers constantly picking at a guitar. When he’s not writing he’s on conference calls and email chains with various record labels, back and forth negotiations and mock-up contracts, lawyers and assistants and more business than he’s ever done in his life. For the first time in as long as he can remember Niall feels like he knows exactly what he wants, and how to ask for it. Soon enough, he thinks, he’ll have something to show for it, too. 

When he’s not writing or juggling record execs vying for his attention, Niall’s reconnecting—or at least giving it a shot. He starts with Mully, knows he’ll bend easiest. A meet-up for a pint to talk about his trip blossoms into weekly nights out, which blossoms into Emilia joining them once in a while. Mully’s been spending time with Niall’s mates in London while Niall’s been away and they welcome him back without much fuss: Eoghan McDermott, Laura Whitmore, the lot. It’s all easier than Niall expected, even if there’s one painfully gaping hole right in the middle of it. 

On a Friday night near the end of April Mully calls him, fifteen minutes before they’re meant to meet down the pub for a few pints. Half dressed, Niall sandwiches his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he works on fixing his hair in the mirror. 

‘Alright, Mullz?’

‘Change of plans,’ says Mully. ‘Mia just called me. The whole LIC is going to The Hereford Arms tonight, you wanna join?’

‘Sure,’ Niall shrugs, though he’s never heard of the place. ‘Laura, Eoghan, the whole lot?’

‘Yeah,’ Mully slows down a little bit and Niall can imagine him on the other end of the phone in the flat he shares with Emilia, the face he pulls when he’s starting to get nervous. ‘The, uh, the whole LIC, Nialler.’

 It computes in Niall’s brain like an electric shock, like a jolt of some indeterminable emotion through his nervendings. He can’t tell if he’s excited or terrified when he says, choosing his words carefully, ‘Got it. And, erm, does the whole LIC include anyone… Scottish?’

‘Huh?’ Mully sounds genuinely confused and Niall almost laughs. He’d tried so hard to be delicate.

‘Jack,’ he says, deciding to say fuck all to pretense. Mully is his best mate, he should be able to ask him out right. ‘Will Isla be bringing Jack?’

‘Oh, Jesus, no. They broke up, mate.’

‘They what?’ Now it’s excitement, for sure, vibrating in his fingertips. He can’t even bring himself to care about how cruel it is to be happy that someone you love is going through a breakup. ‘When?’

‘Ages ago,’ Mully sounds casual, like this is something Niall should’ve known. But Niall hadn’t asked—half because he was afraid of the answer and half, he thinks, because he didn’t want it to get back to Isla that he was asking about her. The thought of it makes him feel a bit queasy. ‘But, uh, Bressie will be there.’

‘Okay?’ Niall’s clearly missing so much information that it makes him feel like he’s on another planet. ‘It’ll be sick to see him. It’s mad that we’re both in London and I haven’t.’

‘Right, okay,’ Mully sounds resigned. ‘It’s in South Kensington. See you there in half an hour?’

--

The pub is pretty packed, doors and windows propped open to welcome in the spring warmth, a gaggle of people spilling out onto the sidewalk with pints and cigarettes and loud, boisterous laughs. Paddy cap pulled down snug over his forehead, Niall’s sure no one will recognize him here, so he lets himself in without too much hesitation, eyes scanning the crowded room for his friends. 

He finds them thanks to Bressie’s height: six of his favorite people standing in a snug circle near the back of the bar. For a moment, Niall watches them, his heart humming at the sight. These are his people, he thinks, his family. And in the middle of it all, Isla. 

From here he can almost pretend. He can imagine what it would be like to walk over to them in another, less complicated life, and squeeze right in. He’d talk about his day at work, whine about delays on the tube, slide his free hand around Isla’s waist and press a kiss to her lips before getting himself a beer. He’d spend the night not worrying—not looking over his shoulder for cameras, not double checking that every stranger who talks to him doesn’t have their phone set to record. Maybe he’d even snog Isla against the wall outside for a little bit, until someone tells him off for being annoying, and then he’d take her home and fuck her against the inside of their front door, in their cozy little flat, in their easy little lives. For just a second, from just this far, Niall can pretend. 

Someone walks past Niall, accidentally jostling his shoulder a little bit, and his daydream is over. Instead, he swallows his heart in his throat and makes his way over to his friends cautiously, a gentle smile, a desperation in his chest. 

-- 

It’s fine. It really ends up being perfectly fine. 

He’s seen everyone other than Isla and Bressie recently enough for it not to be weird, and he should’ve remembered, really, that with Isla it can never be weird. She hugs him like no time has passed, pulls away from it like he couldn’t feel the quickening beat of her heart against his own chest. 

He doesn’t get any alone time with her until around 11:30, when Bressie, Laura, and Eoghan go to get another drink, and Mully and Emilia disappear without a trace. It’s just him and Isla then, sitting across from each other in the booth their group had commandeered hours ago. He feels his stomach clench when he looks at her for too long—at how much she’s grown, at how much she still looks like the girl he fell in love when when he was a boy. He thinks of himself, fourteen years old and desperately in love, and feels the same. 

He’s literally been all the way around the world and back, and the person he wants the most is still right here. 

‘Hiya,’ she says, after a few moments of silence. She tilts her head a little, a lock of dark brown hair falling from where it was tucked behind her ear. She’s gotten more piercings there—Niall only remembers two, the last time he was kissing her. ‘I’m glad you’re home.’

‘Me too,’ it’s pointless to lie around Isla. ‘I missed you.’

‘Missed you too,’ she smiles, just for him. ‘How was your big adventure? Or are you sick of people asking that question?’

‘It was brilliant, and, yeah, I kind of am,’ Niall can’t help his stupid fucking smile around Isla, and the alcohol isn’t doing him any favors. Still, he carries on. ‘Thanks for asking. How’s uni?’

‘Almost done,’ she says, looking overwhelmed just at the thought of it. ‘I graduate in May.’

‘Fucking hell.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m not gonna ask you what your plan is next.’

‘Thank fuck,’ she giggles, pulls a long sip from her Guinness. ‘Knew I could trust you.’

He’s had enough beer to make him braver than usual, to not stop himself as he says, ‘I’m sorry to hear about you and Jamie.’

Pint still at her lips, Isla smiles, shutting her eyes for a second as if she’s trying to hold back a laugh. She swallows, slow, thick, and then parts her lips pointedly, eyes locked on Niall’s. ‘His name was Jack,’ she tells him. ‘And I really don’t think you are.’

Niall can feel himself heating up, a red flush making its way from his cheeks to his chest, exposed thanks to his partially unbuttoned shirt. Isla’s smiling gently, her lips pressed together, and Niall doesn’t have enough time to think up anything smooth, to let her know he really, really isn’t, before Mully and Emilia come back, swollen lips and stupid smiles and fresh drinks for all four of them, completely oblivious. 

-- 

He wakes up the next morning with a dull headache, a sour taste in his mouth, and a buoyant feeling in his chest. It’s too early to get excited but Niall’s never been good at controlling his emotions around Isla, never been good at separating fact from feeling when it comes to her, and he doesn’t really want to, either—it’s been so long since he’s felt like this about anything. He stretches out in bed and lets himself have just a few moments of it. 

It’s his phone vibrating next to him for the fourth time in ten minutes that snaps Niall out of it. 

Holding his phone up over his face, Niall squints at the screen, too bright in his dark room. It’s only 10am and he didn’t get home until nearly 2 and somehow he’s got over a dozen texts already: from Mully, from Kim at Modest!, from Deo. It’s a weird enough combination to make Niall swipe his phone open right away, worry creeping in as he does. 

All three of them have sent him the same link from the Sun. 

He clicks on Deo’s text first, least worried about leaving him on read if it’s an emergency. He taps through and gets in two full deep breaths before it loads: a series of pictures of them all at the pub last night, of him and Isla, taken through a window from the street. It’s just a few seconds, Niall knows, but the pictures make it look like it lasted all night: their lingering hug goodbye, Niall’s arm resting around her waist for a moment too long, his lips pressed to her cheek, just a little bit too close to her mouth to be friendly. It had been enough, last night, for him to spend the entire cab ride home in a fever dream of what could come next—but it wasn’t anything serious. 

But pictures can be spun, Niall knows that. Especially when there’s a headline involved. 

He reads it, stomach tight: NIALL HORAN HAS STEAMY LONDON REUNION WITH EX-FLAME AMIDST HER RUMORED FLING WITH FELLOW MULLINGAR MUSICIAN NIALL BRESLIN (PHOTOS). 

Two deep breaths. 

Niall feels the alcohol coming back up. 

####

taglist: @stylishmuser @thicksniall @stayclose-holdsteady @niallhoranruinsme @ajayque @flickerswinehouse @1dfangirls35 @crocodileniall @halfpinthoran @awomanindeniall @booksncoffee @edgeofmyniall @kare38 @emmathefantomes @coconutdawn 

join the taglist here

[sammisafetypin]

O1/WB Timeline Analysis

hi !! so I was curious about time stuff going on in outlast 1 and whistleblower , because lets be real , its .. not Terribly consistent and trying to write anything regarding th canon of o1 and wb is a nightmare because of it . so I was thinking about it , ended up googling how long a drive from DC to Colorado is , and from there ended up starting to analyze stuff like sky lighting , and I think I ended up with a pretty good idea of what rough times things start and end ! I was mostly curious about how long it takes for th riots to start , how long Waylon is in engine therapy* , and how long both Waylon and Miles spend in th asylum , and I think I came up with decent answers ! 

I wrote it all on a google doc originally , but i don’t know if tumblr still does that stupid thing where it won’t let posts with links show up in tags or not , so i’m just gonna copy-paste everything i wrote under th readmore 

rlly sorry if dere’z any inconsistenciez , i tried my best to make sure everything made sense and i THINK it does ? you can also scroll past th indented lists of me listing times by hour , i used em cuz i cant count * for th sake of simplicity i use ‘engine therapy’ to refer to what happens to waylon where he has to watch th engine but isnt put into th full thing

NOTE: this sort of jumps around because 1. I’m autistic and just sort of ramble out disjointedly like this and 2. I wrote it rather late at night . I tried to clean it up and write down stuff that pulls things together more coherently , but still .

—

We have very little point of reference for how long waylon went through engine therapy for before the riots , but we know that a drive from DC to Colorado is about 27 hours without stopping .

Waylon’s email was sent on Sept. 17, 2013 . there is no physical way that Miles could’ve showed up on the same day , and we know that the Mount Massive Incident took place on the 18th . Waylon writes his email and sends it approximately 2 hrs before the opening cinematic . we have no point of reference for what time it is — the computers in the start have no time displays that I can find , and we can’t see outside . We’ll get back around to that though — if we can figure out when Miles showed up and how long he took to show up , we can find out the email time .

Oh yeah , we’re hyper-analyzing . in Outlast 1 , when Miles arrives , it appears to be late sunset , probably civil or nautical  twilight . It’s storming but the horizon is visible , and the sun is far enough down that most of the sky is dark except for the west horizon . The differences of twilights are difficult to tell , especially because of the storm , but it looks like civil or nautical twilight . Sunset starts at 7:08 PM and nautical twilight ends at 8:06 PM on this exact day around Mount Massive . Visibility might be altered based on elevation , but 1. I don’t know how to account for that , and 2. I put Leadville into the website as well and received the same times beyond a one minute earlier difference for civil twilight , which is probably a result of just distance anyways . And , it’s most likely the asylum is built near ground level , because it’s unlikely that an insane asylum would be built on a high mountain cliff . All in all , for simplicity purposes we can say Miles showed up at around 7:30 PM on the 18th .

If we turn back the clock exactly 27 hours , that puts us at 

6 pm - 1 5 pm - 2 4 pm - 3 3 pm - 4 2 pm - 5 1 pm - 6 12 pm - 7 11 am - 8 10 am - 9  9 am - 10 8 am - 11 7 am - 12 6 am - 13 5 am - 14 4 am - 15 3 am - 16  2 am - 17  1 am - 18  12 am - 19  11 pm (sept 17th) - 20 10 pm - 21  9 pm - 22 8 pm - 23  7 pm - 24 6 pm - 25 5 pm - 26  4 pm - 27

4 PM on the 17th! if Miles literally drove for 27 hours straight , in perfect traffic without stopping once , and left immediately after receiving Waylon’s email , the email would’ve been sent about 4:30 PM on the 17th . but Miles is obviously very alert when he shows up , and probably not dumb enough to try to drive 27 hours without eating or sleeping . as a reporter , though , he’s probably also used to driving long distances . let’s give the benefit of perfect traffic and that he left immediately , and say that in total stopping for food , bathrooms , fuel , etc. added up to 2 hours . let’s say he split the drive into two sessions , perhaps a 16 hour and a shorter 11 hour , it doesn’t really matter , and slept 7 hours between them .

3 pm - 1 2 pm - 2 1 pm - 3  12 pm - 4  11 am - 5  10 am - 6  9 am - 7  8 am - 8  7 am - 9 

Being as time-conservative as possible , Waylon sent the email at ~7 AM on the 17th , and was first exposed to engine therapy at ~9 AM . Miles arrives the next day , at ~7 PM , about 36 hours after the email is first sent .

We also know when Waylon is given engine therapy in the opening cinematic that it’s mentioned that Billy made a lateral ascension , and that that’s a problem . It’s most likely this lateral ascension led directly into the Walrider breaking free under Billy’s control and initiating the riots . 

We don’t know how long Miles spends at Mt. Massive , but we know that Waylon sees the burning church not long after Eddie’s death , and very soon after hears an announcement about an “unknown assailant” in the underground lab , Miles . Let’s assume that after the ‘12 hours later’ time marker , the remaining events of the vocational block take up about 2 hours , accounting for Waylon slipping in and out of consciousness a few more times . It’s sunup on the 19th when Waylon escapes the vocational block / when Miles kills Billy and is possessed , we see that from both perspectives (the windows in the admin block and the loading bay in the sub lab) and the sun rises at 6:51 AM . back with it again at the 7:30s , Miles probably dies around 7:30 - 8 AM on the 19th . This allows for the time between Miles seeing the loading bay and the last events of the game after that . That means he spent 12 hours in Mt Massive . That means that he arrived 2 hours into Waylon’s unconscious period , and went through the asylum almost entirely during that time .

So with that , we can start turning back time . That means that it’s 7:30 PM 2 hours into Waylon being unconscious in the vocational block , so he was knocked out around 5:30 PM . This doesn’t line up very well with us seeing it appearing to be dark in earlier outside areas , but please understand that it’s nearly impossible to make this completely accurate . I think we can use the heavy fog as a partial excuse , and the strange greenish-yellow tint the sky has that I think is partially just a weird overlay Outlast always has , but partially might be a deeply cloudy and foggy daytime sky . It’s flimsy , but the sky definitely doesn’t look that dark when you get a look at it .

Waylon sends the email at 7:30 AM of the 17th , consequently is probably committed around 8 , and receives engine therapy at 9:30 . Billy also makes his lateral ascension at this time . Waylon escapes not long after Miles does , roughly 7:30 AM - 8 of the 19th . That means Waylon’s entire experience , from email to escape , is 48 hours , give or take (he leaves after Miles’s death so a bit more) . A lot spent unconscious , but still . So 14 of those hours are unconsciousness onwards . 2 hours are the time between the email and engine therapy. That gives us a whopping 32 more hours to kill . I don’t think that all of what Waylon goes through , from picking up his camcorder to being drugged in the vocational block , takes 32 hours . It’s really hard to gauge because we’re trying to compare video game time to real time , but Miles has some unconscious time as well and his entire experience is 12 hours . if Outlast 1 , counting however long Miles was out after Martin got him , is 12 hours , I don’t think 70% of Whistleblower is thirty-two .

There’s not a lot of time to use as reference anymore , this is the point where we’re just kinda forced to eyeball it .

Let’s review to make sure everything makes coherent sense .

We know that Miles arrived at 7:30PM the 18th because we know the Mount Massive Incident is on the 18th, and because of the sky. We know he died around 7:30 AM the 19th because of the sky. And because we see sunup as Waylon as well, and hear the unknown assailant message, we know these 12 hours took place while Waylon was unconscious + during his time getting out of the vocational block . We know the email was sent the 17th because it’s time stamped . And we know that being as time conservative as possible , with a 27 hour straight drive + time for basic necessities , Miles probably took 36 hours to arrive , putting Waylon’s email at 7:30 AM on the 17th . Canon tells us Waylon is put into engine therapy 2 hours later .

17th, 7:30 AM - Waylon sends the email 

17th, 9:30 AM - Waylon is put into engine therapy 

??????? - Time Gap - ???????

18th, 5:30 PM - Waylon is drugged in the vocational block 

18th, 7:30 PM - Miles arrives

19th, 5:30 AM - The 12 hour time jump 

19th, 7:30 AM - Waylon escapes the vocational block, Miles is possessed, Miles dies. Waylon escapes soon after, closer to 8

9:30 AM  10:30 AM - 1 11:30 AM - 2 12:30 PM - 3 1:30 PM - 4 2:30 PM - 5 3:30 PM - 6 4:30 PM - 7 5:30 PM - 8 6:30 PM - 9 7:30 PM - 10 8:30 PM - 11 9:30 PM - 12 10:30 PM - 13  11:30 PM - 14 12:30 AM (18th) - 15 1:30 AM - 16 2:30 AM - 17 3:30 AM - 18 4:30 AM - 19 5:30 AM - 20 6:30 AM - 21 7:30 AM - 22  8:30 AM - 23  9:30 AM - 24 10:30 AM - 25 11:30 AM - 26 12:30 PM - 27 1:30 PM - 28 2:30 PM - 29 3:30 PM - 30 4:30 PM - 31 5:30 PM - 32

We’re left with a major time gap, 32 hours. This starts with Waylon being put into engine therapy and ends with him passing out in the vocational block. Being generous, and considering that characters like Martin needed time to set up their shenanigans, I’ll say that the time from Waylon picking up his camcorder to the V.B. locker takes 6 hours. It seems reasonable, especially if he spends a lot of time hiding from characters like Frank. That means that the Walrider attacks began and riots started at this time too— 11:30 AM of the 18th. Maybe a little earlier and it just took a bit to reach the hospital, but we don’t have means to prove that, and the Walrider clearly works fast. That leaves us with 26 hours , almost a full day , left unchecked . 

Billy makes a lateral ascension during Waylon’s first engine therapy session , which is implied to be what leads to the Walrider’s actions , but we have no idea how long it takes for him to completely break through and for the Walrider to start slaughtering . It’s possible many hours were dedicated to trying to calm him back down , and inevitably , it failed . It’s also possible that they got him back under control but once he hit one lateral ascension he was able to do it again , this time with much more anger . This is the only thing that fits into the timeline because of Miles’s driving time— if the riots started right after we first see Waylon in energy therapy in the opening cinematic, there would not be enough time for Miles to arrive when he does .

The time between Waylon first being put into engine therapy and the game actually starting is 26 hours . If the patients are allowed 8 hours rest and a half-hour per meal, which is really being generous to how Mount Massive treats its patients, 9 ½ hours go to that. Waylon spends about 16 ½ hours doing a combination of being half-conscious in a cell, getting his brain poked at, and going through engine therapy .

All in All: 

Sept. 17th, 7:30 AM: Waylon sends the email 

[2 hrs]

Sept 17th, 9:30 AM: Waylon is subjected to engine therapy, Billy makes his first lateral ascension.

[26 hrs] 

Sept 18th, 11:30 AM: The riots begin, Waylon is in engine therapy during this time. He is released from his chair and gets his camcorder, starting his escape mission.

[6 hrs]

Sept 18th, 5:30 PM: Waylon is knocked unconscious in a locker in the vocational block, and remains unconscious for 12 hours. 

[2 hrs]

Sept 18th, 7:30 PM: Miles arrives at Mount Massive Asylum.

[10 hrs]

Sept 19th, 5:30 AM: Waylon wakes up for the first time and witnesses Eddie’s murders.

[2 hrs] 

Sept 19th, 7:30 AM: Waylon escapes the vocational block, Miles kills Billy and is possessed. Miles is killed, Waylon escapes the asylum.

[trashballerina]

Hetalia Fics I Really Like

this  ⭐ will be for fics I really like. I’ll try not to star everything.

I’m starting with my favorite of all time and tbh I think the fandom should see this fic as a OG, like Auf Weiderstein Sweetheart or Gutters, I really do.

Are We Even Humans  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ (Literally all the stars)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103344

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660761/chapters/25048773 (prequel)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036330/chapters/16007758 (sequel)

The war is over, but putting together everything that fell apart will be a greater challenge than anyone is prepared to handle. Alliances dissolve, and the lines between friends and enemies are blurrier than ever before.

Opinion: Please read it. It is a series with a sequel and a prequel that can be read on its own but it’s so good. Imma go on a quick rant here. This fic is great from the writing, plot, characters, and the nuances of nationhood abilities. I literally rioted during the first chapter because it was so good. One of my absolutely favorite things in the fic and the series as a whole is Prussia. Kingdom of Prussia, German Democratic Republic, Gilbert Beilschmidt. His character progression and seeing him through the series as a whole is astounding. I was literally left shaken at the end of this series and I’ve read it twice. The OC’s are usually the antagonists, but hot damn, they are memorable OC’s who are great (terrible?) villains. And the family dynamics! The family dynamics are enough of a reason to read it by itself and the romances. Omg I love this fic so much. Main takeaways: astounding characterization, amazing plot, will cry, long read, and a reality check on what it means to be a nation.

Would it be too much if I did a separate post on how much I love this series and an in depth analysis? (I feel like such a nerd omg)

Hard Times Passing 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516458/chapters/56397817

Alfred is homeless during the Great Depression and in his wanderings he's charged with the task of caring for a small orphaned Taiwan. AU-Human names used, Taiwan is a child.

Opinion: So incredibly heart warming. It’s well written and I love the dialogue so much. Also, the little cameos from other characters are an absolute delight. It’s a it short, but so wholesome.

Flowers Don’t Grow on Battlefields  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153106/chapters/32619954

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898919/chapters/39697068 (sequel)

As war tightens its hold on the nations of the world, new alliances are formed. Nobody will escape the war unscathed. Italy only hopes that this time, he will find a way to save those he holds dearest.

Opinion: I realllly like this fic. Maybe I’m a bit bias because I remember reading it from like to third chapter and watching it get updated till the end, but this is really good. Cute gerita, great characterization, good plot, and some lines just really make me melt. And the fluff omg. There’s a sequel that’s linked under too that I may like more than the first. 

Who Knew (One Shot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516695#main

“The last time the two of them had any sort of contact was when Gilbert sent the letter to Matthew before the first war started.

That was twenty-six years ago. Twenty-six years Matthew had not seen Gilbert. Twenty-six years of Matthew worrying about if his fiancé was alive or not. Twenty-six years of Matthew thinking about all the horrible things that could be happening to Gilbert. Twenty-six years of Matthew wishing he could just see Gilbert, even if it were just for a second. Twenty-six years of pure hell for Matthew. Twenty-six years of being all alone.”

Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada, never thought that he would fall in love, but he did. He fell in love with Gilbert Beilschmidt, the personification of Prussia, but their romance would have to be cut short with the up coming war that was soon approaching them.

Opinion: My god my heart. Matthew had great characterization. Like amazingly so. 10/10 somber and melodic tones throughout the story. Good tension. And again, my heart. 

TELL ME A PIECE OF YOUR HISTORY  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741175/chapters/8294941#workskin

An account of the media reactions to the reveal of Nations (anthropomorphic national embodiments) with scholarly commentary.

Heavily inspired by: United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) [fallingvoices, radialarch] with mixed genres.

Opinion: It’s really cool. It’s told through media, like email, twitter, texts, online magazines, subtitles of videos (not actual videos tho). I love the outside view point of the world on nations and how some people really like them and how others absolutely despise their very existence. One of the main things that sticks out the me is the in depth analysis other humans or posters do on the nations and people even interview the nations, chapter eight is like my favorite for that reason, or how some humans just gush about the nations on so media like how half the fandom does lol. It’s really good. Super creative, great insight on how to world sees the nations, and honestly a great read.

Red Winter (One shot and crossover!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/909492

The Winter Soldier's new target: a Russian politician named Ivan Braginsky.

Things don't go as planned.

Opinion: Literally so cool. Like nations are total BS to outsiders, especially assassins. I was loosing it during this fic because from Bucky’s POV nations are something else. The writing is really solid and the author uses italics to highlight an action sound or word and even single-word thoughts. The fight scene is really entertaining but also it flows fantastically. 

In Costa Rica (Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614041

“You have this backwards,” McLaughlin said. “Everything. You have it all backwards.” He was a lithe man, looked to be in his mid-thirties. Schnabel leaned back in his chair. Outside, the afternoon rain started, and the frogs momentarily fell silent. “They are dangerous, aren’t they?” Two men discuss the nations and history.

Opinion: No actual nations appear in this fic. It’s just two men talking about the nations and it’s really interesting to see them humor and take seriously the idea of nations. They both discuss what they already know about the nations and theorize. Also hearing an outside perspective and how the nations effect the word around them is golden. I give this fic a big ol’ chef’s kiss. 

Finally, I’ll Just Miss You! (Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15553608

Countries will be abolished tomorrow. For the first time, they breathe and realize this might be their last breath and they’ll never wake up again. They want to wake up, they want to go to sleep, the land will still be there when they’re gone. But they breathe, it won’t be the same- for once, they feel human.

Opinion: Bro, I swear I’m not crying. This one is short but really bittersweet and my heart really hurts. I like the snippets of insight on the characters. 

Diamond in the Rough  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12872642/1/

The year is 1952, the last full year of Joseph Stalin's rule over the Soviet Union. After an incident with Latvia, Estonia is determined to find out what Russia did to him. And so unfolds a chain of events that would lead the Baltic States to tears, to forgiveness, to unexpected courage and horrifying discoveries about the mysterious past of Gilbert Beilschmidt. See AN for rating.

Opinion: This just be a legitimate book. I have honestly read this one like three time and every time I read it I am absolutely elated to discover another detail or action I missed. It is a longer read but I think it is absolutely worth it. For one, the characterization is beautiful. Maybe I might be bias because I stan and love the Baltics, but how they are written compared to the many other fics I’ve read on them is phenomenal. While the author does take some creative liberties and deviates from canon a little, like the Baltics actually considering themselves to be brothers, I really enjoy the changes. ALSO, the history and research and on this fic is genuinely impressive. To think fic authors do this shit for fun and pour so much of their passion into a piece of writing. Secondly, while Russia may be an antagonist in this story, I honestly think it is just. His mentality, backstory, and current predicament explain his behavior and make him a justifiable antagonist. I highly recommend this one. 

Adieux (Oneshot)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6700886/1/

What happens to nations after they cease to exist? Do they simply disappear or do they get a second chance? It wasn't a subject Francis was particularly keen on finding out about...but at the same time, it wasn't something he could just ignore. One-shot

Opinion: I hate this fic because I love it way too much. I might of cried a little bit and I instantly melt of Francis and Matthew. 

In Our Solemn Hour (incomplete) ⭐

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8975529/30/In-Our-Solemn-Hour

The time was World War II, at the dawn of a global conflict like nothing any of the Nations had ever seen before. Nothing could've prepared them for what lay ahead: a war more total and radical than anything they could ever have imagined. This wasn't just business as usual; it was centuries' worth of pent-up emotions all coming into play at once. This was indeed their darkest hour.

Opinion: Characterization is on point. One part of this fic I remember very well during a fight to the death, Finland mutters a little “Oh dear”. The characters retain some of the qualities that make them silly in Hetalia but because this is another take on it it does get darker. I think Germany’s portrayal is my favorite because he does cruel and unnesscary things and questions it because its not his usal nature. The author notes are super insightful and sometimes funny; it really adds to the rest of the story. I might revisit this post to make a more in depth opinion on it because I don’t remember it all to well when I know I really like this one.

So that was my post lol. I’ll probably make more on other fandoms later tbh or I’ll just make a part two. If you end up reading about any of these posts, please feel free to tell me about them! I love talking about fics and reading in general. Thanks for reading!

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 3: Handcuffs

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

...in which Niall can only think of one way to solve his best friends’ conflict.

Warning: overusing of the word ‘fuck’, and mentioning of kinky sexual activities lmao.

Word count: 6k

Chapter 2: Boss - Y/N deals with more problems at work, and Harry makes a life changing decision.

Wattpad link

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"Janet, can you email me the event timeline? Linh, raise the target to five hundred for me, you can do better than that. Jay, that email—"

"Mrs. Styles, coffee for you."

Y/N looked at the new intern who smiled at her and offered the coffee cup with both hands. Her name was written on it, so it couldn't be a mistake. But she would've remembered ordering black coffee, for it was one thing she could never swallow down half of her throat.

"From Mr. Coleman."

Of course it is. Y/N thought. She thanked the intern for the drink then brought it straight to Jack's office. If he wanted to keep them both alive in the same company, he needed to stop with these overfriendly gestures.

"You know I hate black coffee."

Jack looked up when she placed the cup down on his desk. The way she stood with a grimace and her arms crossed put a smile upon his face. He pointed the pen he was holding to the cup, not taking his eyes off her. "You might need that if you're gonna pull an all-nighter again."

Y/N's eyes went wide at that answer. "How do you—"

"Let's see, I sent you a text at 2AM, asking you to edit the MC script for me, which would take around an hour or two. Then I received that script via email at around 3:45. So my guess is that you either woke up at two in the morning or you didn't sleep at all." He paused to breathe before continuing. "But you once mentioned that quote from How I Met Your Mother in a meeting, though literally nobody asked, and I almost kicked you out for interrupting me." Y/N scoffed when Jack scrunched up his nose to tease her as he went on, "the quote says, 'when 2AM rolls around, just go home and go to sleep.' That means..."

Now he pointed the pen at her, and she did what he wanted her to do. "I pulled an all-nighter." Complete his sentence.

"See?" He chuckled, slightly tapping the pen on his forehead which made her laugh again.

"Wow, you're a detective now huh? Maybe you should quit this job and go solve some criminal cases."

"I just promoted you last week and now you already wanna get rid of me?"

Y/N shook his head, trying to hold back another smile, even though she knew she couldn't.

"Thanks for the coffee by the way," she told him, lifting her cup and reached for the door handle. "I hope this will be the last time you buy me anything without my consent."

"Wait, Y/N!" Jack spoke up right before she could leave. So she turned back to him, both eyebrows raised. "Congratulations on your husband's new company."

That wasn't something she'd expected to hear.

"My husband's what now?" Her eyes expanded even more as her mouth fell opened. Definitely not the reaction Jack was hoping for, because he seemed a bit taken aback.

"Styles Corporation?"

"Which belongs to his dad and in San Francisco."

"Shit," Jack cursed under his breath which clearly didn't sound like a good thing. Never had Y/N doubted her husband until this point. She marched towards Jack, forgetting he was her boss as she slammed both hands on the desk top, eyes narrowed at him.

"What do you know that I don't, Jack?"

Jack swallowed hard. He leaned back a bit to keep a distance between them two. He didn't want to be the first person she heard this from, but this wasn't the right time to wonder why Harry hadn't.

"Devlin Styles was gonna sell the company to my family...But then Harry changed his mind, and wanted to keep it."

"But he didn't want to move to San Francisco. I kept telling him—"

"Y-Yeah. That's why he's relocating the company to London."

Y/N's jaw dropped as soon as she heard those words. It almost felt like an ice bucket splashed into her face. She was hearing this big news from her boss, and not her husband, the closest person to her. And now she was furious.

This was actually the first day since Y/N started working here that she left the office early. On the taxi ride home, she'd already come up with twenty different ways to kill her husband. What was he thinking? Keeping something like this from her?

Always be honest to each other my ass.

"Congratulations Mrs. CEO!"

"Fuck!" Y/N shouted out, causing Nam to jump in shock. A lady standing nearby quickly covered her child's ear then urged him into the lift. Y/N just ignored that look she was given and turned back to the doorman. "Did he tell you too?"

"Harry? No, Layla did." Nam flashed her a smile.

Okay, so Layla knows which means Niall also knows. He'd rather tell those two before me. How lucky am I?

"Are you okay?" Nam asked as he picked up the yellow cat at his feet and put him on the counter. Y/N recognized the creature immediately, he was Mason and Stephanie's pet. Great, now she had to share a catsitter with those obnoxious people. But wasn't Treasure supposed to be here as well? Y/N remembered leaving her with Nam this morning. Hurriedly, she looked around, searching for her white fur ball which Nam noticed, so he spoke, "Layla took her already. She and Niall are hanging out with Harry in your flat. But seriously girl, are you okay?"

Y/N rested her arm against the counter as she heaved a sigh. But right before she could open her mouth and vent about what had happened, Stephanie walked in. The evil blonde had this enormous grin on her face when she saw Y/N. Either Stephanie forgot to take her medicine, or this was only a trap.

"Hey, neighbor! I heard about Styles Co.!"

"Of course you did!" Y/N scoffed sarcastically. "Everyone did. Why hasn't this been on the news?"

"It has," Stephanie answered to the other girl's surprise. She thought Y/N might not believe her so she pulled out her phone to open the article. "Many business newspapers are already talking about this. See?"

Y/N pressed her lips together as she threw her arms in the air. She had absolutely nothing to say about this situation. Now that she knew the whole world had heard about this except for her, it felt like a slap in the face.

"Bye, Nam. Gotta go."

"Wait!" Stephanie seized Y/N's arm right when she turned to the lift. With an artificial grin, the blonde told her, "Let's forget all the misunderstandings we had in the past. We're neighbors after all. Maybe Tiger and Treasure can have a playdate this weekend!"

Y/N was already fed up with Harry, she didn't have time to deal with Stephanie's pretentious kindness. She shrugged her neighbor's hand off her arm and straight off denied the offer. "I don't think that's gonna happen, Steph. Treasure may like Tiger, but I don't like Tiger's owners. Sorry."

When Y/N marched towards the lift and heard Nam chuckle, she could imagine how humiliated Stephanie looked. That made her feel much better about having to deal with Harry later. Now she could only hope her husband had a good explanation for this.

"Harry Edward Styles!" She shouted from the moment she stepped into the hallway. Harry and their two friends probably heard it too. Because once the door flew opened, they were already staring at her in fear. Harry's face went pale as he caught her dead glare.

"You relocated a whole fucking enterprise, and became the CEO but your wife was the last to know?!"

"I was gonna tell you tonight," Harry confessed as he sat up straight. But Y/N's expression hadn't softened, not even a little bit.

Sitting right beside him, Niall retreated into his own arms and Layla pulled Treasure to her lap, slowly sinking into the couch. Neither one of them expected to be dragged into this mess. But unfortunately, Y/N didn't spare a single living soul.

"I give you one chance to be honest with me," she said, pointing to the other couple. "When did Harry tell you about this?"

"Harry didn't—"

"Right after you told us about your promotion," Layla spoke fast, and received looks of shock from both her fiancé and his best friend. "What? You idiots know I'm always gonna pick her."

"I'm proud of you," Y/N mumbled to her best friend and turned right back to Harry. "Well?"

He sucked in a deep breath before rising up from the couch, walking straight towards his wife. She turned away, taking a step back when he attempted to hold her. He couldn't charm his way out of this, not again.

"I'm sorry, baby. I never wanted you to find out from those online articles."

"No, I didn't," she said, raising both hands so he would back off. "Jack told me. I found out from my freaking boss, Harry!"

Y/N didn't expect this reaction from her husband who took a step back immediately. The look of regret he'd had earlier had been replaced by a grimace. With both hands on his hips, he said, "so that's why you're so upset."

"Of course that's why! I heard it from my boss when I could've heard it from you!" She cried out, but he shook his head no as if to deny her words.

"I don't think it's the only reason," he said. His voice was dangerously low. "You wouldn't have reacted this way if you'd heard it from Niall and Layla. But because it's Jack—"

"Are you kidding me?! What are you implying?"

"You were the one who told me to take over Styles Co. and now you're mad because I agreed to go for it," he raised his voice a bit louder now. That was how she knew he was just as pissed off about this. It was ridiculous. He had no right to be angry after hiding something like this from her. "Did he say something to you? Ask you to make me change my mind? I know his family is upset about the deal."

"No, Jack's not the problem here. You are." Y/N scoffed. She could faintly hear Layla say "oh no she didn't" in the background, still she ignored that and went on. "We're married. You cannot make such a big decision without me."

"So you don't want me to accept the offer then?"

"Don't twist my words." She stabbed a finger at him. "I would've dropped my job to go with you to San Francisco, but you didn't trust me enough to talk to me about it first!"

"We're not going to San Francisco anymore!" Harry clenched his hands into fists as he squeezed the air out of frustration. "I did this all for you, and I already apologized. Why are you so mad about it?"

"Because you apologize while pointing the gun at me, Harry. You're raising your voice at me too. That's not fucking sorry!"

Y/N rarely cursed. Whenever she did and couldn't stop, she must be mad as hell. Niall and Layla had now turned invisible in their eyes as they were too caught up in their argument. Neither one paid attention to Niall, who was now standing right next to them.

"Can't you see you're making a big deal out of nothing? You get to keep your job. We're getting a company of our own. I'm doing us both a favor here."

"That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about? Jack?"

"Don't bring Jack into this! He has nothing to do with—"

Click!

The couple froze in an instant when they heard that familiar sound. They turned to look at Niall and followed where his eyes were hinting at to find the biggest shock of the day. Their wrists were now linked together with...a pair of handcuffs.

"What the fuck, Niall?!" Harry cried out, attempting to grab his best friend. But Niall was quick to run across the room and Harry nearly fell head over heels when Y/N pulled him right back.

"Work things out and I'll let you go," Niall said with a big smile on his face. Meanwhile, on the couch, Layla was trying her best to contain her laughter.

"Where the fuck did you even get these handcuffs?!" Harry's reaction made Niall laugh.

"Treasure found them in your drawer."

"Good girl," Layla told the cat while stroking her head. The innocent little creature didn't understand what was going on between her parents. So she purred happily and seemed so proud of herself.

"I have dinner with the Colemans and my dad tonight!" Harry freaked out, gripping his own hair. Ironically, he was the one who had come up with this idea to have dinner with Jack's family. He thought it'd be a nice way apology for the broken deal. They hadn't signed any contract or violated any terms, but this was for the best if they were gonna do business together in the future. It was probably too late to call it off now.

While Harry was worried as hell, Y/N tossed her head back and burst out laughing. Apparently, Jack had forgot to tell her that as well.

"Why am I not surprised that I'm not invited?" She said sarcastically, making Harry scoff.

"I had to kiss my father's ass for you. Don't try to be smart here."

When he snarled at her, a part of him could see it wasn't the right thing to do. She wasn't the entire reason he was mad. It was everything. He'd been living under stress in the past week, trying to convince Devlin to relocate the firm. He didn't receive any help so he had to take care of the paperworks and figure out everything on his own. The least thing she could do for him was try to understand why he'd done it and kept it from her. But instead, she turned on him too.

And then came the thing with Jack.

Harry always knew she had a soft spot for Jack. And he only turned a blind eye to it because they were married now. But when she said Jack told her about Styles Co., the situation came to a head. She was supposed to be on his team. He made one mistake and she chose to blame him instead of work on this with him. So yes, Harry was mad, really mad.

"Where do you keep the key?" He turned to ask his wife, who seemed rather startled as she shook her head fast.

"What makes you think I have the key?"

"The last time we—" Harry stopped in the middle of his sentence as Layla and Niall both raised their eyebrows at him. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and turned back to Y/N, his face screwed up in concern. "So...you don't know where it is?"

"Jesus Christ," Y/N muttered under her breath. At this point, she was so done with freaking out. The last time they got stuck in a pair of handcuffs together, she actually went insane and expected only the worst. But now after five years living together, she wasn't even surprised that they would end up in this situation again, non-voluntarily.

"Wait, you guys don't know where the key is?"

"What the fuck, Niall? Is this a game to you?!" Harry raised his voice.

Layla was trying not to laugh as she didn't want to add fuel to the flames. Niall, however, puckered up his lips, his face darkened in guilt. He really should've considered this outcome the moment he came up with the idea.

"This went south a bit faster than I expected," Y/N mumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. "I guess I'm coming with you to that dinner."

"No, you aren't."

"Seriously, H? Now isn't the time to—"

"I don't want my dad to say mean things to you, alright?"

That statement left Y/N speechless. She licked her upper lip as her facial expression softened, like the look in his eyes when he stared at her. That was the moment she knew her Harry had returned. Who was she kidding though? He'd always been her Harry. He might've got mad and said something he didn't mean, but she hadn't been right either.

"I don't care. This is the least I can do for you." She pressed her lips into a smile then reached out to intertwine their fingers. They temporarily forgot about the big issue right under their noses, until Niall broke the silence with a loud 'aww'.

"But look on the bright side," he said. "If I had the key, I would release you guys already."

"Shut up, Niall!" The couple screamed at the same time, causing their friend to quickly run and hide in the kitchen. They would've killed him already, but they needed to get out of these handcuffs first.

"How much time do we have until the dinner with your dad?" Y/N asked her husband, staring at the clock on the wall.

"Uhm...half an hour, maybe less."

"Okay. We've got half an hour or less to look for the key."

"What if we still can't find it?" Niall questioned, poking his head through the kitchen door. The nervous couple looked at the metal cuffs linking their wrists together. They didn't want to say it, so Layla had to.

"Then Mr. Harry CEO Styles has to see his dad and the Colemans in his ugly band tee."

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.

.

Accidents happened all the time, and that was always a great excuse for something that didn't go as planned. However, showing up at a five-star restaurant in an old t-shirt while being handcuffed to your wife, just wasn't the case. Who would believe something like that could be 'an accident'?

"But it is!"

"Really, Harry? Really?" Devlin huffed as he glanced from left to right. He wanted to make sure nobody paid attention to his son's appearance. "You expect me to believe you rolled out of bed and fell into these handcuffs with your wife?"

"No, but—"

"Please sit down. If you cannot show up looking like a CEO, at least act like one."

Harry and Y/N shared a look when Devlin stormed back to his chair. Without another word, they joined the man at the table. Y/N noticed Harry's frown and leaned in to whisper to him, "at least he called me your wife, so yay?"

Her little grin left one on his face as well. Somehow she always managed to make the best of a terrible situation, but Harry knew this relief wasn't gonna last. He nodded slightly, yet said nothing as the waiter arrived with their menus. Neither one of them was hungry anyway, so they just let Devlin order whatever he wanted for them both. The waiter noted it all down, then shot Harry a judging stare before walking off.

"Even that waiter could tell what a mess you are."

Normally when Devlin said something like that Harry would apologize and ignore. But this was a different time now. He was trapped in a handcuff, as if it wasn't bad enough. He didn't have any energy left to act as his dad pleased.

"How can I take off this shirt with these handcuffs in the way?" He scoffed, resting his chin on his knuckles. "I'd prefer a better suggestion than having my own hand cut off. Thank you very much."

Devlin was taken aback by that response. It was actually the first time Harry had talked to him like that. And of course, he wasn't tolerant of such disrespectful attitude from his own son.

"You shouldn't have got yourself handcuffed in the first place!" He lashed out. "You're almost twenty five and you're about to lead a company. But here you are, looking like a college student with a rock band living in his mother's garage!"

"Please shut up."

This time, Devlin's eyes almost popped right out of his head. Y/N also turned to her husband with a wide-eyed look. She never would've expected him to say something like that. The Harry who had lived his entire life looking up to his father wasn't there anymore.

"For once." He lifted a finger, eyebrows creased as he looked straight into the man's eyes. "For fucking once, I just want you to be a normal dad."

That one sentence put Devlin to silence. He sat there in disbelief, mouth slightly opened. Still Harry neglected his father's expression as he carried on. "When we stepped in here in this situation, you didn't even ask how it happened. All you cared about was that I was here to embarrass you, and you couldn't stop talking down on me for it. To prove your fucking point. But guess what? I'm in charge of Styles Co. now. So if you cannot respect me as your son, you're gonna have to respect me as the CEO of your firm."

It wasn't until Harry had finished his last sentence that he realized what he'd just said. He was paralyzed, but so was Devlin. Judging from the look on his old man's face, Harry assumed whatever he'd blurted out must have worked. Y/N flashed him an encouraging smile, and now he felt more powerful than ever.

Five minutes later, Jack showed up. Both Harry and Y/N were relieved to find out he'd come alone. Apparently, Jack's father was in New York for an urgent meeting, and couldn't make it back tonight. If he'd come, he would've had a heart attack to see the future CEO of Styles Co. dressed like this to a fancy dinner. Not to mention the handcuffs. But thank God it was only Jack. This man had already been to their wedding. Nothing could shock him more.

"I've got the same Gun And Roses shirt at home. Yours looks great." He chuckled, pointing to Harry's black t-shirt. Devlin's reaction to that compliment was just priceless.

"I got it from a thrift store. Pretty sick, right?" Harry chuckled as Jack sat himself down. Now that he was here, the atmosphere had really lightened up. They (except for Devlin) shared a good laugh when Harry and Y/N explained the handcuffs. The couple made sure to leave out the reasons for their fight, not wanting Jack to feel like it was his fault.

Once the food had been served, they topic was switched to business. Y/N couldn't be more surprised by how her husband took charge of the conversation like a pro. He was usually a man of few words around Jack — someone he'd always considered his competition. Seeing him like this, so confidence, so sure of himself and what he wanted for his company, Y/N was over the moon. All she did for the rest of that evening, was sit there with her chin on her knuckles, and admire her husband with massive heart eyes.

As for Devlin, Harry's previous words kept replaying in his head. After sitting quietly throughout Jack and Harry's discussion, it occurred to him that he'd really underestimated his own son. He always knew Harry was smart, which was why he wanted to pass on the company to his boy. But what he seemed to forget was, Harry wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man. And now a boss. Maybe it was time for Devlin to take a step back and accept that his empire was in good hands. And maybe, it was also time he finally learnt how to be 'a normal dad'.

"Harry," he spoke after Jack had already left. Now they were standing right outside the restaurant, and it was raining a little bit. Harry and Y/N didn't have an umbrella so they had to cover themselves with Harry's jacket. They seemed to get quite impatient when Devlin began to stutter.

"Uhm, can you hurry up?" Harry áked, glancing skyward. "We kind of need to walk home."

"Well...I...uh..." The older man struggled to find the right words to phrase his thoughts. He was fidgeting with his car keys and Harry noticed right away. It was something he took after his father. The Styles men could never hide their true feelings, and they both found it hard to communicate how they felt. Harry had improved so much thanks to Y/N, but for someone like Devlin. He needed more time.

Without a warning, Harry wrapped his free arm around Devlin's shoulders, pulling the man into a hug.

"It's okay, dad," he said. "I forgive you."

Devlin was as stiff as a pole, but Harry refused to let go. So eventually, the older Styles had to adjust to the unfamiliar affection and lift an arm to pat Harry on the back.

"Hope to see you at work sometimes." Harry smiled as he pulled away and took his wife's hand. Y/N said nothing more than a goodbye to Devlin, but all it took was her soft beam to melt his almost stone cold heart. As Devlin watched the happy couple walk away, hand in hand, his chapped lips curved into a subtle grin. He couldn't deny it anymore. What he'd seen, had got to be true love.

.

.

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"What you did back there was so hot!"

"Yeah?" Harry's face lit up at his wife's compliment. They kept on walking with his jacket above their heads to cover themselves from the rain. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. One simple peck was enough to keep them both warm in this awful weather. "And what did I do exactly?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

"You showed up looking like a mess, but when you started speaking, you were a boss," she told him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You also put your dad in his place. God, you were so hot."

"When we've finished with the relocation process, you're gonna see boss Harry everyday, baby."

"I can't believe you just called yourself that."

"That's so hot, right?" He mocked her voice, making her dissolve into laughter while clinging onto him.

The rain was heavier now, but the couple were too full of joy to even care about their hair gradually getting soaked. They had grown used to the feeling of the cuffs and almost forgot they were there, until Harry moved his constraint hand to hug her waist, accidentally bending her wrist.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, love! You okay?"

"I'm fine." She hissed, glancing down at their little problem. "Ugh, I cannot wait to get out of these. Do you think Niall and Layla already found the key?"

"Yeah. It has to be in our bedroom somewhere. I mean, the last time we—"

"Stop!" She quickly covered his mouth as both of them started to giggle. He removed her hand quickly and raised an eyebrow. It was funny how fast her face turned red though they were the only two people there.

"I was gonna say the last time we got stuck in these handcuffs five years ago. What were you thinking about?"

"No, you weren't, liar!" She glared at him, smiling for she knew he knew exactly what he was talking about. "But yeah, that was a fun experience."

"Ha!"

"I was talking about five years ago!" She scoffed, smacking him on the arm.

"Jokes aside, I agree. That was one of the happiest days of my life," Harry broke the silence which only lasted for a few seconds. Y/N turned to him, eyes sparked with joy as she asked him if he was serious. She'd always thought he used to hate her then.

Nodding fast, Harry said, "believe it or not, I had like the biggest crush on you and I didn't know how to ask you out...without actually asking you out."

"So you intentionally handcuffed yourself to me?" Y/N dropped her jaw, pointing a finger to her face. She looked so freaked out that it was impossible for him not to laugh.

"No! That was an accident, I swear!" Harry guffawed. "But I've never regretted it. I'm gonna tell our kids I married their mother because I handcuffed her to myself."

"Honey, only one of us is allowed to be the bad parent. Don't compete with me," Y/N joked, laughing along with him.

As they kept on walking, the rain kept falling harder. At this point, Harry's jacket had become useless, but they were too carefree to mind water dripping down from their head to toes.

"Wanna hear the truth?" she asked, holding on to his arm by her side. Harry didn't even know what that truth was about, yet he nodded so fast his head might just fall off. Y/N flashed him a grin and went on, "you thought you needed the handcuff to spend time with me, but all you needed to do was ask."

"Really?"

"Yup. I also had a huge crush on you." She covered her face shyly, making his heart flutter and his mouth spread into the brightest beam.

"I was such an idiot," he said.

"I agree." Her response made both of them chuckle. Quickly, she added, "my point is that, our marriage is not different from these handcuffs."

"Wow, it's that bad for you?"

"I'm trying to be serious here." She snorted and he quickly apologized and told her to continue. "Where was I? Oh right, marriage and handcuffs. So, our marriage is also like these handcuffs, right?"

"Right." He nodded, pressing his lips together to hold back another joke, otherwise she'd kill him.

"Even though we're trapped together and cannot easily escape, it doesn't mean without this link I will walk away from you. Even if we weren't husband and wife, I'd still be there for you through it all. We're in this together, and no matter how bad the situation is, we're gonna work through it. Together." She raised both eyebrows at him. At this point, he finally saw where she was hinting at.

"I'm sorry, love," he told her with a guilty smile. "I thought if I'd told you the truth you'd leave your job for me. So I decided to persuade my dad to let me relocate the company. I was gonna tell you when everything was done, but...you heard it first from someone else. And...I'm really sorry."

"It's alright." She nodded slowly. "But never again, kay? From now on we make all decisions together."

"Definitely." Harry was so happy that they'd got everything figured out. But he was wrong to think she would let him off the hook that easily. It only took her a five second pause to bring up what he hope she'd forgot.

"Why were you so angry about me hearing it from Jack?" She arched a brow, sticking up her nose.

"B-Because his family wanted the company and—"

"Cut the crap, I know when you're lying," she said, pressing a finger to his cheek. "When you lie you bat your eyelashes a lot."

Harry didn't even notice until Y/N pointed it out. Now he wondered how long she'd kept that from him. Last week, he told her he'd already given Treasure a bath, did she know it was a lie too? Did she let him get away with it? Jesus, how many times have I been played? I didn't lie that much, did I?

"Harry!" Y/N snapped her fingers in front of his face to pull him back to Earth. Harry blew up his cheeks, now that it'd come to this, he had no choice but to tell her what he hated to admit to even himself.

"I don't know...I always feel like...like Jack is a better version of me..."

"What? That's silly, H!"

"It's just..." Harry groaned, tossing his head back. "He's older and more successful...and...ugh...you seem to like him a lot."

"I—"

He quickly pointed a finger to her nose, squinting his eyes right at her. "Don't lie and say there's not at least one second that you actually had feelings for him."

Y/N stayed silent, taking Harry's hand and pulling it away from her face. All of a sudden, Harry wished he'd never said anything at all. The last thing he wanted to hear was—

"You're right."

No, no, no...

"There might've been a few moments that I felt something there," she said, watching anxiety clouded his features. He thought his heart might break. But then she stopped walking and pulled him closer. The rain had lessened and was coming to a stop, so they didn't mind anymore. "You know why?"

He pouted, trying not to look at her as he mumbled, "because he's so—"

"He's so much like you, that's why." That answer had got Harry's full attention. His eyebrows snapped together and his mouth fell opened. Now he was just gawking her. "At first I was scared because I thought I was catching feelings for someone else, but when I found out the reason, I was actually happy. I realize I'm always gonna see a bit of you everywhere I go. That's how much I love you. And even though you and Jack have so much in common, he's still Jack. He's not my Harry. He'll never be my Harry."

Y/N watched the grin grow on Harry's lips as she ran her fingers through his wet locks, pulling his face down to kiss him slowly. The wind was cold against their skin but the fire within already kept them warm.

"You're right, we do have a lot in common," he spoke once they pulled away. "I mean, he did compliment my t-shirt."

Y/N couldn't help but cackle at how fast his mood had changed. "Wow, should I be worried you're growing too fond of my boss?"

"If you're not worried about me cheating on you with Niall, then you shouldn't be worried about anyone else." It came out as a joke, but Y/N was the only one laughing. The smile dimmed on Harry's face the second his best friend's name left his lips. Immediately, he took Y/N's hand and dragged her along, giving her no time to question for she must hurry up to catch up with him.

Harry had only two things on his mind now. First, they’d get out of these handcuffs. Then, he’d kill Niall.

.

.

.

"All credit goes to Treasure. She found the key under your bed, you kinky sluts," said Layla who unlocked the handcuffs and tossed them onto the couch. With two hands on her hips, she gave them both a smile and asked how the dinner went.

"It was great!" Y/N said even though she was standing in the middle of her living room, dripping with rainwater. "Jack's father couldn't come so only Ja—"

"Niall, you have five seconds."

The girls turned to Harry as they were both confused by his words. Niall, on the other hand, knew exactly what his best friend meant. He quickly hid behind Layla, trying his best to come up with a good argument to defend himself.

"Think about it! If I hadn't done this you two would—"

"Four...three..."

"Are you serious?"

"Two."

"What the fuck happened to one?!"

Niall screamed and ran as fast as he could while Harry chased him around the flat. Both of them nearly tripped over a table before they made it through the door. From here, Layla and Y/N could hear Niall screaming in the hallway, and also Mason shouting at them "do you know what time it is, you fucking psychos?!"

"Aren't you gonna do something?" Y/N asked her best friend who looked even calmer than she was.

"Nope." Layla popped the 'p' sound in an amusing way. "Niall's been with me long enough. He'll survive." Then she turned to Y/N, her nose wrinkled as she finally realized something. "Shit. I can't believe your manchild is gonna run his own company."

Y/N could've sworn her jaw hurt from smiling that big.

"Yup." She nodded proudly. "That's my manchild."

[bigskydreaming]

Thank you to everyone who donated and signal boosted. I have enough for my meds and rent today, and I’m off to go get my prescriptions refilled right now. Tbh, I’m not out of the woods yet and won’t be for awhile yet until I manage to stabilize a couple more sources of income. Since I have to work from home these days (I would get a job in retail or waiting tables or at Starbucks in a HEARTBEAT if I could, but I physically just can’t stay standing long enough to last a five hour shift - its not even a matter of the pain itself, but like....my posture when standing combined with my jaw issues makes my neck lock up the longer I’m just standing up, and I physically can’t move my neck until I use hot and cold compresses on the cramps)....

So like, at the moment I’m limited to stuff I can do sitting down or from my motel, which was fine for a long while, since I do cover designs for self-published authors and small publishing imprints....but within the last year, two of the publishing imprints I did the majority of my work for both closed up shop, and the online forum where most self-publishers have gathered for years and was a major source of my income was sold to a new owner who pretty much drove everyone away and to various private facebook groups instead.

I milked the fuck out of the $10K personal loan I took out back in June to pay for the surgery I was SUPPOSED to have in July before that doctor told me a week before the surgery ‘oh sorry, you were quoted the wrong price by my assistant, we actually need double that amount before we can proceed’ and I had to find a new doctor....like, the loan lasted me about four months, but that was as much as I could stretch it between rent, food, out of pocket co-pays for my appointments and paying for my insurance itself, which is pricy as hell.

I’m like....hours away from finishing up the stuff I need to launch a writing commissions thing for fic, and a patreon for my original stuff, lol, I’ve literally just been waiting on my ADHD meds to focus enough to do the freaking formatting stuff that I just can’t make heads or tails of when I’m off my meds, so since I’m going to go get that refill right now, I’m hoping to get at least one of those up today, and won’t be around much otherwise, until those are up. And like I said, I also design book covers and can do photomanipulations/fanart, so I’m open to jobs of that nature or art commissions, hit me up on chat or in my asks for more information there.

ALSO like....I really really appreciate everything people here have done for me over the past year and hate not being able to pay it forward for others in similar or worse positions, so just FYI....if any other writers have donation posts up and also could use ebook covers/cover designs for any of their work or to promo their own sources of revenue, please send them my way. I’ll happily do a cover for them free of charge - realistically, due to time and energy concerns, I think its best there to set up a list of first come first serve, so I can just do one at a time...but then I can always check with the next person who asked, to see if they still need one, and proceed from there.

Samples of my covers can be found at my site here:

http://bookablecovers.com/covers

PLEASE DO NOT USE THAT CONTACT FORM AT THE MOMENT, as like....I haven’t been able to afford to keep that site running, so while its still up, like...I don’t have access to its server currently and I won’t get emails sent from it, lol. Which. Yeah. LOL. Again, just contact me through here, and I’ll switch us over to email if that becomes easier.

And here’s my paypal again, just because why not, lol, and also I have a ko-fi page linked on my main blog page as well.

Thanks again, you’re all rockstars in my book. 

[rebeckathefloof]

Miss You~

Summary: He really wants you to come visit and he misses you a lot. You decide to surprise him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: None (Just a dash of Yoongi really missing you)

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2,5K

a/n: tumblr ruined my formatting :(( Sorry for the mess it left. Hope you enjoy!

Yoongs: Jagiiii~

When are you coming to visit again???

I miss you~

(Y/N): Yaaa

Yoongles, you know I can’t come visit

Our schedules clash and you have the cb to think about..

You know I miss you too...

Yoongs: Buuut Jagiiii~

You know it’s very chill right before our cb,

there isn’t really anything to do around here

and the maknaes are annoying

(Y/N): We’ll have to see

I might be able to ask for a small break

but I can’t promise anything

Ok?

Yoongs: As long as there

is a chance that you might come here~

OK, I have to go now, they want to go through

the choreo one last time today

Love you~

(Y/N): Love you too

Yoongi~

|Today    14:58|

(Y/N) P.O.V.

As I entered the upper levels of my work-building, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit my senses. There was a slight buzz from my coworkers as they zoomed around the floor, attending to their assigned tasks. At the end of the corridor was my boss’ office. I greeted his assistant at the reception like table. ‘’Is he in still?’’ My tired voice drawled out. She nodded a vague yes. I scoffed a bit at her out-of focus like state and headed towards the door and knocked before entering.

‘’Good afternoon Mr.Steele, Is there anything in particular left for me to do today?’’ My boss raised his head and shook it. ‘’There isn’t. Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?’’ I saw this as an opportunity, and nodded. ‘’There is actually, I wanted to ask if I could get a small 1 or 2 week break, so I can go and visit Yoongi? Also if you do want me to work a bit while away I can do that too. Since my job is literally writing and producing music it’ll be quite a relief to get a of change environment for a while.’’

I waited for the inevitable no coming from my boss, considering that he’s always had me on a tight leash if there ever was an artist in need of a writer and I needed to do face-to-face collaboration.

‘’I understand if i won’t be able to, considering that are plenty of artists that want to meet me face to face an-’’ Mr.Steele interrupted my rambling and cleared his throat. ‘’It’s fine (Y/N), go see Yoongi, come back when you need to, but you still have to write and submit it to me. Got it?’’ I nodded. ‘’Yes I understand, Is there anything else you want me to do while I’m gone?’’ He shook his head and mentioned for me to just leave his office and go home.

‘’Thank you again for letting me have this vacation!’’ He just sighed and gestured towards the door. ‘’Go get your man (Y/N)!’’ He laughed as I hurried out the door.

I opened the door to my one bedroom apartment and stepped in to let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. ‘Well… Time to pack AND book a plane ticket’ I scurried into my messy bedroom and hopped over the clothing piles on the floor. I took a quick look in my closet and sighed.

‘’When was the last time I fucking did laundry?’’ I quickly shook my head and collected a few clothing items and threw them into the hamper I had in the corner of my room. I sprinted down the stairs to the basement and greeted a few of the neighbors on my way down to the laundry room.

I almost bonked into the door when it almost closed on me, I looked up and saw a few of the older neighbors look at me and shake their head in disapproval. I straightened my back walked over to the only available washer. I chucked all the clothes into it and prepared it for a program.

I let out a sigh and leaned against the washer as it whizzed to life and started rumbling. I dug up my phone from the pocket and opened it, looking at the various notifications I’d received throughout the day. I looked at Yoongis contact and contemplated if I should send a heads up to him or something, but decided against it as I wanted it to be a surprise for him when I arrived. Instead I sent a text to Namjoon asking him if I could get some info on where Yoongi was during the time I arrived so I could go and surprise him wherever he was.

The washing machine beeped and signalled that the program was done, I opened it and threw all the clothes back into the hamper and fixed the washing machine so it was ready for the next person to use.

I slumped down on the couch and placed my laptop into my lap, searching up plane tickets for Seoul and looked at varying options settling on one of the pricier ones, clicking on check-out and paying for it I waited for an email to arrive, confirming my purchase and linking the receipt and all the other information I needed for my flight. I looked everything over and nodded to myself, closing it and putting it in the backpack with rest of my equipment. I felt and heard my stomach rumble reminding me that I had to have something to eat this very moment before I literally fall asleep on the couch.

I went into the kitchen to check for some leftovers noticing I barely had anything in the fridge, except for some Ice Tea and fruit yoghurt along with some leftover red-wine sauce. I sighed and looked into the cupboards and noted there was literally nothing at all. I picked my phone up from the table and tapped on the best take-out places number waiting for the staff to pick.

‘’ One number fifteen please, also I want the cashews and veggies on the side. Yes, Okay thank you’’ I ended the call and slumped back down on one of the plush kitchen chairs almost missing and landing on the floor.

I patiently waited the 15 minutes they told me it’d take. As I heard the knock on the door I rose up from my comfortable position on the chair and went to open the door. ‘’Hello, Here is your order, One number 15 with the cashews and the veggies on the side. That’ll be 7 dollars.’’ I nodded and handed him the charge and took the food as I closed the door behind me.

Once again I sat down on the couch and opened the containers containing the most convenient and delicious food ever. I almost drooled a bit thinking about it as I dug in.

I leaned back as I finished ravishing the beautifully created meal that had been before me just seconds ago. I stretched my limbs and stood up to throw away the trash caused by the food. I drug my feet across the livingroom floor into my bedroom and threw myself on the bed setting an alarm for 5 am. I put my phone charger in and fell back against the sheets.

I scurried into the airport hall as I searched for the correct machine to get my boarding ticket from, I spotted the machine from the company I was flying with as I hurried over there and put in my information I got the tag for my luggage and the boarding ticket. I quickly went over to the correct check-in and security line.

Once I had checked in and went through the security, I was admitted in to the passenger lounge where I could get some food and drinks if I felt like it. I ordered a Pepsi and a sandwich since I hadn't gotten breakfast. I waited until they announced my order was ready, well only the sandwich since I already had gotten the Pepsi, I went over to the counter and picked up the tray with the grilled sandwich on it. The morning had gone by so fast I hadn’t had the time to really look around and take everything in, the smells, the sights and overall noisiness of the people bustling around in a hurry to get from one place to another. Places like this often got my anxiety going as it was a close space with a lot of people pushing around trying to get past you- The thought of it just made me shudder. Thankfully I had a way of avoiding this completely and get by just fine. That is the reason why I chose a early flight and woke up at 5 am.

Just as I finished eating my sandwich they announced that the plane to Seoul would start boarding soon and that you should make your way over if you hadn’t already. I quickly disposed of the trash and put the empty pepsi bottle into my backpack and rose up from the lounge seat to go over to the boarding terminals. I took out my ticket and passport to make it go by smoothly for both me and the staff.

I waited patiently in line as there were only a few people ahead of me, soon I was at the front of the line and I quickly handed over my ticket and passport, they nodded and told me to go ahead. I boarded the plane and went to find my seat. Hopefully I wished for a window seat and that there wouldn’t be anyone beside me. Thankfully one of my wishes came true. Window seat acquired! I quickly took out my laptop and the noise cancelling headphones from the backpack and went to stuff if into the overhead shelf. I scooted over to my seat at the window and dug out my phone and texting Namjoon that I had boarded the plane and it probably would take off soon. I put it into airplane mode before opening my laptop to do the same. Just as I put on my headphones I could hear families with their screaming demon children boarding the plane and I let out a exasperated sigh. This was going to be one long ass flight.

After hours and hours the plane had finally landed at Incheon, thankfully I hadn’t had any screaming or kicking children behind or infront of me, though I had this one guy who kept sniffling and coughing beside me, I was so close to asking the guy if he could hop over to the empty seat beside him since it had been empty but my awkwardness had taken the best of me and I just let it be. I shot a text to Namjoon telling him I just arrived and asking if he could send someone to pick me up, his answer came right away responding there was already someone waiting to pick you up in a black van.

After rounding up my stuff and getting of the plane I went to collect my luggage at the pickup. I noticed just how much busier Incheon was than the airport back at home. I listened to the people around me, picking up on a few korean words that Yoongi had taught me after we got together. I quickly shook it off and went off looking for the exit, where someone would come pick me up.

Exiting the airport I noticed someone standing next to a black van waving at me. I hurried over and confirmed if it was my ride which I got an affirmative from the driver. He took care of my suitcase which held my clothes and a few other things and loaded it into the trunk of the van and gestured for me to get in.

‘’Miss, We have arrived at the destination. The boys are in the practice room’’ I thanked the chauffeur and got my suitcase from the trunk and started towards the building where the boys were.

As I entered the building, staff acknowledged me and nodded.

I waited for the elevator to arrive as I sent a text to Namjoon asking if they were still practicing. He responded that they were on a 5 minute break before they had to go back to practice again. I thanked him and got in the elevator when it arrived.

Arriving at the floor the boys practice room was at I walked down the corridor hearing music blasting from the speakers inside. I slowly opened the door and peeked inside, looking at all of the boys and finally landing on the one.

I went over to the chairs placed behind them and sat down as I waited for the song to end. As soon as I thought it, the song ended. I started clapping to get Yoongis attention and that I did.

He turned around as he heard the clapping of hands, there before him stood the person he had been missing for months. ‘’You’re here! You actually made it!’’ He enveloped me in a tight hug as I wrapped my arms around him. One of the other boys snickered at his hyungs actions. ‘’That’s more emotion than I’ve ever seen him express in all the years I’ve known him’’ I chuckled and released my arms from around him.

‘’I thought we agreed on that we would tell each other when we were visiting?’’ I scratched my head a bit and retorted. ‘’What’s the point of telling, if I wanted it to be a surprise?’’ Yoongi snorted. ‘’Yeah? You wanted to surprise me? Do you think I was surprised Jagiiii~?’’ In the corner of my eye I could see the maknae cringe at his hyungs words.

‘’I think you were really surprised Yoongs… Maybe you could show me how surprised you were?’’ The suggestive tone in my voice made the others groan. ‘’GET A FUCKING ROOM YOU TWO!’’ Unsurprisingly it was Jeongguk who shouted it at us.

Yoongi dragged me out of the practice room and down the hall, where their studios were located. He quickly punched in the code on his lock and swung the door open, just to shove me in and slam the door closed behind us.

After one intense make-out session later, Yoongi and I laid on his couch holding each-other just taking in the others presence and basking in it. Yoongi held me as if he could lose me any second, missing the way his breath hitched a few times before holding me tighter and hiding his head in my neck.

Smelling his subtle cologne, it reminded me of the first time we met. It smelled of the orange he shared with me while we were working on one of the songs for their then upcoming album.

‘’Yoongi? Are you alright?’’ I stroked his back in an attempt to calm him down. ‘’I- It’s just that you’ve been gone for so long and I… I just- I have missed you for so long, you have no idea how many nights I dreamed about you being here, next to me, every morning, every night, always and I don’t want you to leave again... ‘’ I looked at him, resting my head on his chest, taking a deep breath.

‘’It could come true... ‘’ He looked me in the eyes looking after any sign of a joke. ‘’I’m not joking… I could move here and live with you…’’ He nodded fervently and flipped us over so I was underneath him. ‘’I’d like that’’

[onefunnelaway8-blog]

ONE FUNNEL AWAY CHALLENGE

One funnel away

The Just one Funnel Absent Challenge is actually a thirty (30) working day online video training sequence aimed at walking entrepreneurs as a result of developing and building their initially or following gross sales funnels. The teaching series is made up of movie guides (which can be produced every day),a workbook, no cost audio clips, and also a complimentary guidebook. This schooling collection is for on the net business enterprise entrepreneurs who want to construct the life they require.

one funnel away challenge

Firm At the rear of:

The One-Funnel Away Obstacle was created by income funnel qualified, Russell Brunson, founding father of ClickFunnels in September, 2018 and due on the enormous success pupils observed, he has because re-launched the collection better yet.

Russell is really a ideal offering author and founder of quite a few multi-million greenback organizations. He has offered a huge selection of many his books and it has been endorsed from the large promoting guys like Tony Robbins and Grand Cardone.

VERDICT:

With a scale of one to ten (one been the lowest), I’ll fee the A person Funnel Absent Challenge by using a nine. This series receives a brilliant higher score because of the value it provides and for the price at which you can get this value. So mainly, you can get a sequence of tailor-made movie training classes which will assist you commence and build your to start with or following sales funnel that generates earnings to your business enterprise while in the future 30 days.

Unlike other instruction sequence, the One-Funnel Away Obstacle is pretty actionable as a result making certain individuals really undergo these classes. In essence, it really is remarkably encouraged and completely worthy of the price.

Remember to note which the One-Funnel Absent Obstacle is at present in progress along with the upcoming start will begin within the twenty fifth of March, 2019. You can join it just before then. Registration closes three (3) days prior within the 22nd of March, 2019.

INTRODUCTION

Exactly what is the One-Funnel Away Challenge, what does it entail and the way helpful could it be?

The One particular Funnel Absent is usually a high quality 30-day on the internet challenge by product sales funnel pro, Russell Brunson that guides you and holds you by the hand as you endure the different levels of constructing, establishing and launching your extremely initially or your following on the internet rewarding revenue funnel. The coaching collection is full of benefit for both equally rookies who've by no means crafted any product sales funnel right before and also organization proprietors that have finished it prior to but desire to take it to the up coming amount. Brunson literally walks you through just about every and each step along the way.

The aim powering this teaching collection is not only to build a daily funnel but to make the daily life you have got generally desired to have. This aims at serving to you build that aspiration family you would like, the desire organization you'd like or that freedom you crave to possess. Russell’s One-Funnel Away Problem would get you from the hand when you start and attain these dreams (or ambitions).

Now, you may be wondering exactly what the One-Funnel Away Challenge may indicate to you in precise. Thing is; it will depend on YOU, who that you are and what you want. Think about it by doing this;

You may perhaps be in a job that sucks the hell from you and you dream each day about how you are going to escape this. For some of you, it might be that you just have now begun an internet based enterprise but points are merely not shifting the way they should to maneuver.

Your income is not rising, your customer base remains how it was months ago (despite the fact that you will need more), your consumers are merely not growing. Chances are you'll even already have a company however you wish to produce a new solution from scratch and provide it in existence but you’re undecided of how you can go about this.

At times you pressure your self to feel that no one will buy from you or your website traffic would not change into product sales, clientele and buyers.

Russell believes the answer to all these issues is just one Funnel Away! He is particular that the 1 issue you would like to solve your particular challenge can be a funnel. This concept brought about his flagship corporation, ClickFunnels.

Individually, I have employed product sales funnels to offer my services and products to my possible purchasers and I’m just one on the two Comma Club Customers Myself, meaning I created more than $1M in my own profits funnel.

Till right now, customers arrive by this medium even months just after putting with each other my funnel procedure. This protrudes that while using the right income funnel as part of your enterprise, you might simply just obtain that objective you’ve now dreamt of reaching. With the powerful profits funnel method, you might make a recurring every month earnings on your own month right after month for a long time, you could potentially escape that 9 to five job you despise a lot of, or else you could mature your existing enterprise and double your profits that's been trapped.

Now, this led to the development from the One-Funnel Absent Obstacle and in this evaluate, we're going to think about the functions, positive aspects, and pricing with the coaching sequence. Can it be really worth the penny or should you go about studying it all by you?

One-Funnel Absent Obstacle: Can it be Truly worth it?

What you GET After you Enroll:

After becoming a member of the funnel schooling obstacle, here is what you get. This is often 1 on the finest areas of this teaching sequence. Remaining to me, these are the points that established this obstacle aside from 100s of other troubles on the market.

On register, Russell would ship these to your doorstep. He calls it the One-Funnel Away Challenge Kit.

one. The 30-Days 550-Page Hardcover-Book: Prior to this education obstacle, Russell asked about 30 of his ClickFunnels prospects who may have gained around a hundreds of thousands pounds in profits (from their ClickFunnels profits funnels) how they might start off if they ended up to start again from scratch. No targeted traffic, no e-mail record, no impact, no popularity, just their promoting working experience. They’re actually rookies setting up from almost nothing in addition to their wide marketing expertise.

These funnel specialists laid down their finest procedures and the way they might put into practice them in 30 times whenever they had been to start out over again. They laid down everything they would do from day 1 to working day thirty. Each of your thirty authorities he emailed replied having a 30 day assault approach.

They spelled out anything perfectly, even a complete beginner would have an understanding of.

Every one of these expertise was compiled to the The 30 Times 550 Web site Hardcover E-book for you. If we've been been straightforward, this alone is value over the $100 you shell out to join the 1 Funnel Away Obstacle. Think $97!

2. A Actual physical Copy from the One-Funnel Absent Obstacle Workbook: Most on the web issues nowadays give on-line workbooks. Most barely or hardly ever even supply any bodily point to assist people for the duration of the obstacle.

Most instances, you might be sent the duplicate of your worksheet or workbook by using e mail then you definitely print it if you want. Russell does it distinctive!

When you sign up for the Just one Funnel Away Challenge, you have a free of charge 30 Days 550 Web page Hardcover e book delivered to the residence deal with that can help keep you up together with the each day responsibilities and assignment.

This training problem workbook arrives having a checklist of various day-to-day duties that you choose to need to finish everyday, in excess of plenty of writing and jotting room for putting down important factors and ideas you could get during the system in the problem, each day video coaching one-way links and some other resourceful inbound links which might be beneficial.

3. An Mp3 Participant with One-Funnel Absent Obstacle Live Recordings: A further awesome point you get in the One Funnel Absent Challenge kit can be an mp3 participant with dwell recordings from the stay periods from the past A single Funnel Absent Obstacle.

By way of example, when you register for the coming One Funnel Away Obstacle, you obtain a little mp3 player with the initial Just one Funnel Away Challenge recordings. This is certainly valued at $247.00!

Using this type of machine, you may pay attention to those education periods with your automobile, on the fitness center, if you are traveling or even in your bed prior to deciding to rest. This helps make the training less difficult to observe especially for the people functioning nine to five work opportunities. Basically, you may effortlessly multi-task and hear to classes speedier.

Entirely, you get about 50 instruction lesson recordings and about forty (40) several hours of training lessons.

four. 30 Days of Video-Missions from Russell Brunson: This is essentially the foremost material or price you will get from signing up for the One particular Funnel Absent Obstacle. Upon registering, you'll get a full 30 working day online video missions from Russell himself. These are definitely lessons and guides which will get you because of the hand and enable you to commence and create your first or upcoming profits funnel in 30 days.

If you have tried to start off an internet based business then you would know the way difficult it may be to start out a company, make the right merchandise as well as get men and women to truly invest in. It will take an entire whole lot of your time and strength.

A sales funnel can be a sequence of levels that a business designs which a customer (or possible purchaser) passes by means of to become a shopper. For instance, when a visitor lands on the squeeze web site (or landing site), he or she is then available an incentive to sign up to you e-mail lists exactly where they get tailor-made email content material qualified to having them acquire your merchandise.

The recently subscribed visitor will get specific e-mail articles that concentrates on setting up trust and romance wanted in advance of even promoting any product or solutions. The gross sales funnel program is there for just a pretty long time even ahead of the online market place was born.

Building a product sales funnel for your personal on line enterprise is often authentic difficulty specially when you really do not know where by to start. The trouble of creating individual landing pages, purchase webpages, thank you webpages, up-sell internet pages then connecting them all alongside one another is usually overwhelming. Most situations, entrepreneurs and business people end up supplying up.

Here is the detail;

Without the need of a web based profits funnel for your on the web business enterprise, you are able to not actually create a stable, passive income. You would probably not have the capacity to develop an internet based company that replaces your 9 to 5 task or give you the freedom you need. The reality about most on-line organization proprietors is that they wish to establish a steady regular profits without the need to trade all their time for it. Some on the web company homeowners come up with a good chunk of cash but are usually not truly pleased or free of charge because they trade their time for cash.

A revenue funnel is exactly what can clear up this problem. It requires out the trouble of having to trade your time and effort for dollars and genuinely create a passive revenue stream without having to strain by yourself.

Russell comprehended this and made a decision to start his corporation, ClickFunnels. A Saas business that helps small business proprietors sell extra without the need to trade time. Generally, it helps you create marketing revenue funnels from the simplest strategies possible. This tool has actually been proven to generally be the best revenue funnel creator in the world as entrepreneurs have used it to build sales funnels that have produced a lot of dollars each day.

In reality, 1 of Russell’s funnels crank out a minimum of $500,000 each individual thirty day period.

This idea at the rear of the Just one Funnel Away Obstacle is just to indicate small business homeowners that ClickFunnels can really enable them to grow their firms to the things they dream of it. With ClickFunnels, you may create a company and escape the 9 to 5 occupation trouble for good.

Russell’s movie lessons educate you ways to get started on from very little and establish a funnel that may mature your organization exponentially. These movie lessons will manual you through the methods you require to just take to go from $0 to 1000s of pounds in gross sales applying only one product sales funnel.

These classes tend not to only educate you but in addition provide you with just how you can do it in just 30 days. Pretty terrific is not it? You furthermore mght find out how ClickFunnels functions and the way for getting started off making use of the software.

5. 30 Days of Coaching from Stephen Larsen and Julie Stoian: For each and every on the internet instruction session marketers be part of, you can find generally a necessity for coaching sessions where by students get to talk to personalized thoughts and acquire responses from knowledgeable men and women. The One Funnel Absent Challenge is no distinct.

Russell has picked two (2) income funnel industry experts, Stephen Larsen and Julie Stoian for this. I really had Julie Stoian on my podcast not long ago and she shared an awesome strategy on ways to essentially provide your courses before you even develop them.

Pupils reach check with queries and get them answered by knowledgeable gurus. This fashion, studying is less complicated and overwhelm is minimized.

Here's the tutor breakdown;

Russell Brunson would be the mastermind powering the Just one Funnel Absent Problem and also the strategist. Russell will tutor you with day-to-day teaching videos that will help you create the right product sales funnel in your on the internet company. He'll put down the main groundwork there is to developing a product sales funnel, the basic principles of getting going and the way to scale your funnels.

Julie Stoian could be the transformer and would enable you to switch your thirty working day thoughts into a actual funnel that is constructed. Mainly, she’s an authority at turning mere small business thoughts from your desire stage into truth that really generates money. Aspect take note: I did have Julie Stoian as a visitor on my podcast and he or she practically rocked it.

Ultimately, Stephen Larsen could be the executioner and will mentor you day by day on stay group calls. Primarily, he receives all your questions answered and in addition offers an additional hand to those people who may possibly will need it.

Stephen is just one which makes certain learners execute their duties, assignments and actually establish their gross sales funnels.

THE Program BREAKDOWN:

Here’s a simple breakdown overview on the training course classes you get any time you sign-up and join the One particular Funnel Absent Obstacle.

7 days one: Pre-Training (State of mind)

Week 2: The Hook, Tale along with the Offer

Week 3: Create the Funnel

7 days 4: Targeted visitors and Efficient Advertising

Week 1: THE Frame of mind

The main week on the One Funnel Away Challenge mainly concentrates on having your mindset suitable. Before you decide to can actually make a internet marketing product sales funnel that could adjust your lifetime, you will need to have your frame of mind proper very first. While using the completely wrong mentality, there exists practically very little 1 can perform to achieve his goals and aims in everyday life.

Russell helps you correct your belief, obtain your way of thinking proper, discover your worst fears plus your strengths. The only strategy to escape from that 9 to five occupation will be to get all these suitable.

Think of it for a pre-training attitude that is definitely intended to acquire you suitable with the big deal. To get ready you for that big offer, Russell focuses on igniting some thing in you. He focuses on inspiring you and acquire the flames burning to have the ability to conquer whatever task or problem you could experience from the future thirty times.

These mainly assist you learn and believe in you in addition to have confidence in that you can achieve anything you established to to obtain. Can it be escaping the nine to 5 headache? This concentrates on acquiring you the mindset needed to strike this focus on within the following 30 times.

7 days 2: THE HOOK, Tale plus the Provide

To get a organization to really get folks to pay you in your products and solutions or providers you may need the hook, story and state of mind. This is often what sets your online business aside and truly receives individuals to have confidence in your merchandise or solutions.

There's a favorite stating that men and women buy the tale not the attributes. This part of the A single Funnel Away Challenge concentrates on location you up for this.

The hook is just that which you publish, say or communicate in your concentrate on audience to acquire them really psyched or pumped up regarding your company and also your solutions (or providers). The hook is always the main step within your income copy concept. It is actually a method that not just company homeowners leverage but in addition speakers, trainers or instructors.

The tale would be the meaty part of the duplicate. You require to find a novel and fascinating tale that appeals specially on your goal viewers or potential consumer. Russell Brunson is learn at this as every of his tale receives me.

His stories are often on point plus they usually capture and captivate his audience which gets them over excited to obtain his solutions or be part of his applications. Russell is often a learn at this!

At last, the Give is the place you truly current your products or services. The supply is what men and women pay for.

The supply is your item (or solutions) plus your products really should address a selected issue that your target viewers faces. Discover a unique angle that the competitiveness is lacking out and hit your goal viewers with it. The supply is totally useless and not using a great hook along with a charming story.

Like I discussed, Russell is really a learn at this and will stroll you thru ways to turn into a professional at it far too.

7 days three: Build THE FUNNEL

This module demonstrates you accurately ways to start off and develop your precise funnel. At this time, you bring out your thought into actuality. You deliver it out into an precise funnel that could begin making revenue instantly.

This module exhibits you the way ClickFunnels is effective and accurately how to get began utilizing the software.

Russell exhibits you around the shoulder video clips from the ClickFunnels software program and that means you can practically see how you can make squeeze pages, landing internet pages, thank you webpages as well as your upsell webpages easily. The ClickFunnels computer software was constructed for simplicity and relieve not simply for that business enterprise house owners and also the shoppers.

ClickFunnels aims at earning your consumer at ease and his obtaining encounter pleasurable and straightforward. In this way, your shoppers would often need to come back for additional.

With this particular software program application, company proprietors could setup substantial converting product sales funnels for their products and services inside of couple of minutes. In actual fact, I have viewed one of Russell’s video clips wherever two persons constructed a complete income funnel making use of the ClickFunnels in below an hour.

The A single Funnel Away Obstacle reveals you the way it is possible to do that in your enterprise far too.

Week 4: Traffic AND Successful Advertising

To put it simply, with no visitors and powerful marketing, every advertising and marketing profits funnel is ineffective in spite of how wonderful it is. Marketing and traffic would be the fuel of each gross sales funnel, squeeze or landing website page. Just about every on line enterprise needs ample traffic to endure, thrive and become in a position to grow.

There may be no business enterprise devoid of folks coming to it. Without visitors not one person would know your goods exists not to converse of purchasing them.

With this chapter, Russell concentrates on showing the top traffic technology procedures you could potentially use to generate 1000s of world-wide-web visitors into your gross sales funnels. These strategies consist of social media marketing, search engines like yahoo and paid out ads. As an example, Russell pays attention to facebook advertisements because he believes it is actually a person from the only tips on how to push folks for your product sales funnel immediately.

Using an expenditure of the number of bucks, you might push 1000s of people in your squeeze web site in which you sell to them and have back again your ROI (return on expense). Search at it this way;

You develop a $50 item and establish an efficient income funnel for it. You then invest $200 into facebook advertisements. This could drive 1000s of people for your income funnel and with only four income, you'd probably get better back again your facebook advertisements investment decision.

Value

To join the A single Funnel Absent Challenge, it fees only $100. With $100, you can get the many characteristics, trainings, bonuses and coaching classes there exists in this schooling series. It can be completely value every single penny. In fact, this system is valued at $3,126 however, you get all these for just $100 right now.

For that cost, I are unable to advocate this software additional. $100 to develop the aspiration enterprise you have got constantly wanted or maybe 100 bucks to flee the 9 to 5 stress.

Last Verdict

In conclusion, the One Funnel Away Problem is valuable expense you'd make. The material, bonuses and teachings you can get are top notch and they are much value a lot more than a $100 investment decision. No matter what business you're in: large ticket nearer, start-up, or currently at 7 figures, you will get a tone of price from this problem.

I remarkably advocate that you simply sign-up for that coming A person Funnel Away Obstacle currently and get ready to make the company you and your loved ones have earned.

[emospritelet]

For Dark Heart, prompting #99: “This was fun— Lets do it again sometime!” and also #150: “What on earth are you wearing?” (Sending two in case someone's already sent one of them. You can choose whichever strikes your fancy.)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23]

AO3 link

Belle had felt bad for snapping at Gold over things that weren’t really his fault, especially when there were other, far more appropriate reasons to snap at him, and she resolved to try to be civil with him when she returned to the house that evening.  For his part, he greeted her calmly, if a little cautiously, and she swept Gideon up into her arms for a hug while he made a start on the dinner.

“I’m doing herb-crusted salmon,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her as he took a roasting tin from the cupboard.  “Fine beans, potatoes and a white wine and cream sauce.  Is that okay?”

“Sounds delicious,” she said, and after he turned away she added.  “I - I haven’t eaten this well in maybe two years.”

Gold turned back with a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” he said.

She didn’t know what to say to that, having already said she would move out when her father came out of hospital, but the tension between them had eased, and so she sent him a brief smile.  He poured her a glass of wine, and she carried it out to sit on the back porch with Gideon in her arms, bouncing him on her knee as he played with a colourful plastic rattle.  She took a sip of her wine, and her phone buzzed in her pocket.  Belle put down her glass, fishing it out and smiling as she saw who was calling.

“Hey.”  Emma’s voice crackled a little.  “Thought I’d give you a chance to find your feet.  How’s your dad?”

“He’s a little better,” said Belle.  “In hospital for longer than I thought, though.  He comes out Friday.”

“And Gideon?” she asked.  “How’s he dealing with the change of scene?”

“Water off a duck’s back,” said Belle dryly.  “You know how he is.  Everyone’s been fussing over him, so he’s in his element.”

Emma chuckled a little, but then fell silent.

“What about you?” asked Belle, wanting to avoid the inevitable question she could sense floating around in Emma’s mind.  “Did Henry get that part in the play?”

“Oh, it wasn’t an acting part he wanted,” said Emma.  “He’s on the writing team.  Chief dramatist, he likes to call himself.  Little guy’s gonna be a screenwriter or something, Neal says.”

“Well, he has the imagination for it,” said Belle.

“Uh-huh.  Speaking of drama, are you gonna tell me what else happened in the past week?”

Belle sighed, hugging Gideon a little closer.

“Well, he knows,” she said dryly.

“How’d that go?”

Belle shook her head.

“Badly.  I mean - things are better now, but he was furious.”

“Well, you knew that would be a possibility,” said Emma frankly.  “We talked about it.  Extensively.”

“I know, I know.”  Belle rubbed at her eye with the heel of her hand.  “I shouldn’t have put things off for as long as I did.  Neal was right, I - I should have told him sooner.”

“Hey, you were scared!” protested Emma.  “And from what you told us, you had good reason!  Guy was an asswipe!”

“Yeah,” said Belle, her tone wry.  “He absolutely was.”

“But you said it’s getting better?”

“Yeah.”  Belle kissed Gideon’s head, breathing in his scent.  “He’s been - he’s really trying.  He’s taking care of Gideon while I work the shop - seriously, he’s so good with him!  He’s a natural!”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“You had sex with him, didn’t you?” said Emma accusingly, and Belle blushed.

“What?” she protested.  “I - I never said that!”

“Well, now I know you had sex with him,” snickered Emma, and Belle groaned.

“Look, it was an accident, okay?” she sighed.  “We yelled a lot, and emotions got the better of us.  Can you just keep it to yourself?”

“Your secret’s safe with me, babe,” she said.  “Neal says hi, by the way.  And not to do anything he wouldn’t.  Guess we’re a little late for that.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” said Belle dryly, as Emma cackled.

The sound of a rhythmic tapping and Gold’s uneven tread approached, and she looked around as he appeared on the porch with his own glass of wine in his hand.

“Look, I gotta go,” she said.  “I’ll call you, okay?”

“Sure thing.  Try not to bang your babydaddy too hard.”

Belle rolled her eyes, amused, and swiped at the phone to hang up.  Gold lowered himself into the chair beside her, taking a sip of wine.

“How was your day?” he asked carefully, and she shrugged.

“Quieter than I would have liked, but I broke even,” she said.  “You?”

“A couple of small loans and someone buying a piece of jewellery, that’s all,” he said dismissively.  “I - uh - I spoke to Dove, by the way.  He says the house will be ready to move into on Thursday.  Cleaning the basement took longer than he thought.”

“Oh, that actually works out well,” she said.  “Dad comes out Friday.  I spoke to Dr Whale.”

Gideon wriggled in her arms, grumbling, and she let him slip to the floor, holding onto one of his hands as he found his balance.  He glanced around, lower lip protruding, then wandered over and slapped his hands on Gold’s knees, burbling at him.

“You want a tour of the garden?” asked Gold, and set down his wine glass.

Belle watched as he got the cane underneath himself and pushed to his feet, picking up Gideon in the crook of an arm and carrying him down the wooden steps to the garden.  Gold set him down, taking his hand and walking slowly along the neat strip of grass between the flower beds.  He was talking to Gideon as they went, telling him the names of the flowers in a low, gentle voice, and Gideon stopped to sniff one, beaming up at Gold and getting a soft-eyed smile in return.  Belle leaned back in her chair, an unfamiliar feeling of contentment flowing over her.  He clearly wanted to make things work with their son.  Perhaps it would be okay.  Perhaps they could be friends.

Tuesday morning dawned with a blue and hazy sky, the air already warm and filled with the chirps of birds and the lazy drone of insects.  Gold found himself drinking his morning coffee with only Gideon for company, and had just about finished feeding his son breakfast when Belle hurried downstairs looking stressed, a bundle of clothes in her arms and her hair a wonderfully tangled mess.

“I can’t believe I overslept!” she fretted.  “You should have woken me!”

“You have plenty of time,” he said calmly.  “What would you like to eat?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”  She cast her eyes about, chewing her lip.  “You mind if I do some laundry?”

“Of course not,” he said.  “You didn’t need to ask.  Out of clean things?”

“I - I lost track of the days,” she said vaguely.  “Didn’t realise I’d gone through everything I packed until this morning.  Gideon still has some clean stuff, though.”

“Everything you need is under the sink.”

She stuffed the armful of clothing into the washing machine, adding liquid and softener before turning it on.

“I know it won’t be done before I go to work…” she began, looking harassed.

“I can take it out and hang it up to dry,” he said calmly.  “Sit down, let me make you some breakfast.”

“In a minute…”  She swept her hair out of her eyes.  “I can’t believe I didn’t think about bloody laundry!”

“Why don’t you just go and get Gideon ready?” he suggested.  “I’ll make you eggs on toast, and I can deal with the laundry while you’re at work.  I won’t spontaneously combust if I have to handle your underwear.”

She shot him a flat look at that, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and bent to sweep Gideon up in her arms.

“Let’s get you ready, young man,” she said firmly, and he belched, throwing up partly-digested porridge over her shirt.  Belle groaned, raising her eyes to the ceiling as Gideon started to cry.

“I don’t believe this…”

“His timing is impeccable,” observed Gold, and she sighed, stomping out of the room and up the stairs, the sound of Gideon’s wailing floating back down.

Gold grinned to himself, getting up to wipe down Gideon’s chair and wash the breakfast dishes.  His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.  Gone eight o’clock.  It wouldn’t matter if he was a little late opening the shop.  He could stick around until Belle’s laundry was done, catch up on a little paperwork, check his emails.  The paternity test results were due to arrive that day, and nerves were digging at him, whispering snide words in his mind.  He had slept poorly, knowing the test results wouldn’t be out until office hours, but unable to rest despite that, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait all day.

He had not mentioned his visit to Dr Hopper to Belle, largely because he was still trying to process what the doctor had said for himself.  While he had finally admitted that he needed outside help if they were to build a good relationship, he was by no means certain that he was capable of doing what Dr Hopper suggested.  He intended to try, though.  Just as soon as it was confirmed that Gideon was his.

The sound of feet on the stairs made him look around, and Belle swept into the kitchen with Gideon in her arms, both of them changed into clean things.  Gold blinked, his mouth falling open.  She was wearing a blue silk shirt, tied in a knot at her waist with the sleeves rolled up.  The colour brought out her eyes, the deep pink of her lips and the pale perfection of her skin, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked, and she glanced over, bouncing Gideon in her arms.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said apologetically.  “I had literally nothing else to wear.”

“I…  Of course not, no,” he managed.  “Raid my wardrobe as much as you please.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, kissing Gideon’s head, and flicked her eyes across to meet his.

“You sure you’re okay to have him this morning?” she asked.  “I’ll go visit Dad this afternoon, take Gideon to see him.”

“Fine with me,” he said.  “Why don’t we have lunch at the diner?”

Belle’s smile widened.

“I’d like that.”

Lunch at Granny's had been pleasant, Belle opting for the chicken Caesar salad instead of her usual burger.  The day was hot, and she walked into the coolness of the hospital’s air-conditioned corridors with a sigh of relief.  Her father was sitting up, drinking a cup of tea, and his eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“What on earth are you wearing?” he grumbled, and Belle looked down.

“Oh - it’s laundry day,” she said, feeling a little self-conscious.  “Gideon threw up on me, so I borrowed one of Alex’s shirts.”

“Getting kind of domestic, aren’t you?” he said sourly.  “Why are you still at his house, anyway?”

“Because yours was a shithole, that’s why,” she said tartly.  “It’ll be clean by the time you get out of here, and I’ll be moving in, too.

“I don’t want him slithering back into your life.”

“It’s just a shirt, Dad.”

He grunted at that, and Belle sighed to herself, picking Gideon up out of the stroller and sitting down with him on her lap.  He was sleepy after his lunch, head lolling against her, and she kissed his forehead gently as he slipped into a doze.

“Are we still on for Friday?” she asked, and Moe nodded.

“Dr Whale had me up and about today,” he said.  “Weak as a bloody kitten, I am.”

“Well, he said to expect that,” said Belle.  “You’ll get better.”

He grunted again, as though he doubted it.

“How are things at the shop?”

“A little slow the past couple of days,” she admitted.  “Not sure everyone knows we’re open again.  I thought I might make an announcement at Granny’s, or something.”

“There are a couple of weddings this month, if I remember rightly,” he said.

“Yeah, I saw the orders,” she said.  “I’ve asked the supplier for extra peonies, and I just hope I can make the arrangements to your standard.”

“Phone me with that video app thing you’ve got and I can talk you through it,” he said, and she nodded, relieved.

“I’m gonna have to shorten the opening hours when I’m looking after you,” she added.  “Any more word on how long that’s likely to be?”

“Couple of weeks, Whale said.”  Moe finished his tea.  “I guess you’re wanting to get back to Boston, huh?”

Belle hesitated.

“Of course.”

“Nothing to keep you in this town once I’m back to rights, is there?”

“Sounds like you want to get rid of me,” she teased, and his mouth flattened.

“I think you did the right thing when you left,” he said.  “There’s no future for you here.  You or the kid.”

“You’ll come and see us though, right?” she asked.  “And - and Alex says he wants to bring Gideon here, on alternate weekends.  He’ll want to see his grandpa as he gets older.”

“What, you think that man’ll let me have a relationship with my grandson?”  Moe sounded bitter.  “Probably spend all his time trying to poison his mind against me.”

Belle frowned.

“He wouldn’t do that,” she said sharply.  “And of course you’ll have a relationship with Gideon!  I haven’t worked out any of the details of how we’re gonna do this, but we’ve been waiting for the test results to come back before we decided anything.”

Moe’s eyes widened.

“He made you get a bloody paternity test?  Of all the bloody nerve!”

“It’s necessary if we want to formalise anything,” she said.  “Stop getting insulted on my behalf!”

Moe looked away with a scowl, and Belle rolled her eyes.  Getting the two men in her life to even be civil to one another was going to be an uphill struggle.

Gold had felt his anxiety grow as the day wore on, increasing with every minute that there was no email letting him know the result of the test.  His laptop was open on the workbench, and he checked it every time it made the noise that signalled a new message, hands shaking in anticipation before the inevitable disappointment at finding another spam email.  By the time three o’clock came, he was on the verge of calling the company he had sent the sample to, and started the restoration of an antique lantern to try to take his mind off things.

The computer beeped again, and Gold looked up, swiping with his finger at the touchpad and telling himself not to get his hopes up.  His heart thumped when he saw the sender of the email, and he licked his lips, opening up the message.  He read it over three times before sitting back, letting out the breath he had been holding with a sigh of relief.  Not that he had doubted it, not really, but this proved it.  Gideon was his son.  A smile played across his face, and he felt a surge of emotion go through him.  He would get to be a father, get to do everything he had missed out on with Bae.  He would get to see his son grow up, be a meaningful part of his life.  And he would have a good relationship with his mother.  He was determined to make that work.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out, his smile widening as he saw Ella’s name pop up.  His thumb swiped at the screen to answer.

“You always did have good timing,” he said.

“Alexander.”  Ella’s drawling voice oozed out of the phone.  “How are you, darling?”

“I was about to call you,” he said.  “The test result.  It’s positive.”

“Well then, I imagine congratulations are in order,” she said, and he smiled.

“I’ll need you to make a start on what we discussed,” he added.

“I’ve already drafted the deed of trust,” she said.  “I’ll email it over and you can have a look.  I suggest coming in to finalise the rest, if you’re able to get down to Boston.”

“I need to speak to Belle, first,” he said.  “I think it’s best I let her know what I’m proposing for our son.”

“You think she’ll object?  She’d be a fool to.”

“No, I don’t think that,” he said.  “I just - I don’t want her to feel that I’ve gone behind her back and not consulted her, that’s all.”

“Hmm.  Very well.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I looked into your Belle French, by the way,” she said.  “Very interesting indeed.”

Gold sat down on the stool, his heart thumping.

“Tell me.”

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 5

I dropped my fork. “I’m sorry, I must have heard that wrong, because it sounded like you just asked me to become your employee.” Luke’s brow lifted.

“No, you heard it absolutely correctly. I did ask you to come work for me. For Prosper. Initially as Tom’s social media manager, and when that’s squared away, as Prosper’s social media director.” So many things I wanted to include in my reply instantaneously flooded my brain, but, as usual, it was miles ahead of my mouth and lord knew what would come out if I spoke. I decided taking another bite of my cannoli while they fell back in sync was the best course of action. Chewing slowly, I looked back and forth from Tom to Luke, then swallowed. I chose my words carefully, hoping to not be offensive.  

“Luke, I’m incredibly appreciative, but normally my role is to provide plans for social media managers and directors, which they in turn implement while working one-on-one with their clients. Direct client management isn’t really something I’ve done in a number of years, and I’m not sure it’s something I’m interested in, or even capable of doing again.” He fished some papers out of his bag and pushed them across the table.

“Anne Rice says you’re capable.” I snatched them up, holding in my hand a copy of my resume as well as an email from Anne, singing my praises. It appeared to have been sent earlier in the day. I laughed softly. Client testimonials were usually all anyone cared about, but I kept my resume posted on my website just in case. I didn’t think anyone had ever even looked at it, never mind taken the time to contact my former employers.

“Nice detective work, Luke. I’m impressed. But not only was that more than ten years ago, Anne doesn’t count. She has to say nice things…she’s a friend of the family.” He looked puzzled. “My parents owned a home right down the street from her in the Garden District of New Orleans. When she got wind of my new business venture she volunteered to be my guinea pig.”

Tom leaned forward, scrutinizing me skeptically. “You’re from New Orleans?” I nodded and slipped into an exaggerated southern drawl.

“Born and raised. Even rode on some Mardi Gras floats.” I shrugged and switched back to my regular dialect. “I never had a strong accent, and I’ve lived in New York nearly as long as I did in New Orleans, so it’s faded almost completely.”

Luke pointed his index finger at me. “You should know that not only did she reply to my email immediately, she gave me her number so we could speak. We talked for a good twenty minutes, and she told me she credits you with all of her social media success, including the idea for ‘People of the Page’.  She said you were the only one who managed to help her not only understand, but embrace the technology that allowed her to form deeper connections with her legion of fans. And, she wishes she could have held on to you forever, but she didn’t want to keep you from your dream.” He paused for a moment. I made no comment. “According to your resume, you’re also proficient in website design, graphic design and photography, which are additional assets you’d bring to the company. I’m assuming you do your own site?”

“Correct.” I opened my laptop, started Firefox, pulled up Prosper’s website and grimaced. “Who does yours? It’s…it’s…how do I do put this nicely?” I raised my eyes skyward in thought. “Nope, I can’t. It’s awful. You’re redirecting people to your social media instead of having an actual site. It’s all lowercase, and the italic version of your font is hard to read. There’s a generic, single email as a means of contact. I don’t see a phone number. And that black background…I just can’t even.”

Luke began rubbing his temples. “Admittedly, we’re lacking in that area at the moment.” I snorted. “Maude, this is exactly why I need you. As far as PR goes, I’m exceptionally motivated and skilled.” Tom coughed. Luke shot him a chastising look. “Quiet, you. I lighted out on my own because I know I have something unique to offer…genuine bespoke, personal publicity. What I didn’t account for is the amount of time and effort the social media aspect of it would require. Events, interviews, red carpets, networking, I can handle all of those things with very minimal assistance.” He frowned.

“Unfortunately, I’ve found that all too often I put social media on the back burner because I can’t keep up with it, and as a result I feel like I’m not delivering what I promised to my clients. A few months back I determined it was time to seek outside help, but not a single applicant met my expectations. You, however, exceed my expectations.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Luke, I always appreciate an ego boost, but let’s keep in mind that I didn’t apply for anything.” I put an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. “I did agree to an initial consultation, and since you attended my seminar you know where things are supposed to go from there. Translation – not here.” I leaned back in the chair and linked my hands behind my head. “But, this is where we’ve ended up, and I would be remiss if I didn’t entertain your offer, however briefly. So, what the hell. Lay down the details. Especially the ones pertaining to compensation and benefits.”

************************************************ I stood staring out at the horizon as the waves hit my shins, wiggling my toes in the wet sand underneath the water. Finally, beach. Warm, breezy, sunny, quiet, beautiful beach.

After learning that Tom had no prior knowledge of Luke’s plan to hire someone as his social media manager, I excused myself so they could speak in private for as long they deemed necessary. That’s what I told them, anyway. In truth, I really just needed to get the hell out of there so I could attempt to process all this insanity… which I knew wasn’t even remotely possible until I was alone. Part of me hoped that ‘as long as they deemed necessary’ turned into several hours. Or days.

Luke had proposed an initial annual salary of one hundred thousand dollars while I was working with Tom, increasing to one hundred and twenty-five thousand upon assuming the role of Social Media Director of Prosper. I’d be issued a corporate credit card and expense account, and the company would cover all travel expenses. I currently grossed around forty thousand more than that a year on my own, but being stuck covering all my own travel costs made it a negligible difference. When I factored in the lack of income stability that goes hand-in-hand with self-employment, I’d probably come out ahead financially if I opted to accept the position.

When I pressed him to define my duties and responsibilities, he’d shaken his head and imparted that I was the expert, not him, and therefore I should implement whatever strategies I would have included if I had drawn up a proposal. Though I’d technically be an employee, he preferred that I handle everything on my own and retain complete creative control for the duration of my time as Tom’s personal social media manager. We’d step back and re-evaluate things when I was ready to take the directorial helm.

My spot near the water was becoming popular, with several children running amok carting floats, balls and a slew of other things ankle biters enjoy that destroy peace and solitude for the rest of us. I was walking to the opposite side of the property from Luke’s room where it was less crowded when the gravity of my situation overwhelmed me completely and began to literally pull me down. I sank to my knees on the sand, then tried to shift to a sitting positon as gracefully as possible and without flashing everyone on the beach. Again.

I rested my ass on the back of my calves, listed to one side using my arm as a support, lifted my hips a little, extended both legs at the same time, then pushed myself upright. Not pretty, I’m sure, but I had managed to keep my legs closed. I crossed them at the ankle just to be safe and began to mull over my options. “Okay, Maude. Crunch time. Don’t fuck this up.”

When I first started out, I loved every minute of my ‘job’ and had a burning desire to share my knowledge. Maude Gallagher, LLC was everything I had aspired to do and be. I ate, slept and breathed it like oxygen. I never stopped working, always a phone call or an email away from jumping on a plane. But over the past few years, it seemed that my interest in my own company was steadily waning. While I constantly updated my lectures, the material remained essentially the same and what I used to find fun had become work. Every proposal I presented to a client was unique, but at its core it was identical to all the rest. I still put forth 100%, and my ‘phoning it in’ was akin to someone else’s ‘gave it my all’, but something inside me had changed. What was once my life had become just a job, and that prompted me to consider that I might have missed out on actually living along the way. I kept on truckin’, as they say, because the money was so damn good and the idea of having a boss was horrifying after so many years of answering to no one but myself.

Now here I was, sitting on a beach in Kaua’i, wearing a dress and trying to ignore the sand working its way between my thighs, faced with the daunting task of deciding what the fuck I wanted to do with my life…keep running in place, monotonous but comfortably familiar? Or race off in a new direction, intriguing but entirely foreign?

My proposal for Luke would have advised him to have a website created, marketing materials designed, the existing social media accounts revamped and new platforms established with all of them monitored intensely. I also thought it best that Tom have his own photographer/videographer who’d travel with him to shoot on set, at events and in ‘normal’ situations when deemed permissible. He would have had to hire three or more individuals to meet these specifications, but if I signed on he’d only need me. When I thought of all the types of work involved, how it would be different every single day, that I could be creative again…there was no way I could deny that it sounded pretty fucking spectacular. But something was holding me back, making me hesitate instead of screaming ‘yes, I’ll take it!’…and that something was Tom. Though we’d just met a few short hours ago and I didn’t know him at all, I felt…well, I had no idea what it was, only that is was THERE and that it scared the living shit out of me.

************************************************ I was picking up handfuls of sand and watching it sift through my fingers over and over again when I noticed the long shadow to my left, growing ever closer. Khaki cargo pants followed. I looked up…and up…and up. The sun was almost directly behind us, bathing him in an ethereal glow. So, so beautiful. I licked my lips and wished he’d lose the T-shirt already. He squatted beside me, elbows on his knees.

“Hi.” The corner of his mouth curled in a half smile.

“Hey.” I wiped the remaining bits of sand on my dress. He gestured towards the ground.

“May I?” I nodded. He sat, crossing his legs Indian style, which I wouldn’t have believed possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. “Luke and I just finished chatting.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for coming to let me know.” I started to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“I…erm…there are a few things I’d like to say before you go back to see him. If you don’t mind hearing me out, that is.” I shook my head.

“Nope. I don’t mind at all.” He ran his hands through his hair and met my gaze.

“Thank you, Maude.” He swallowed. It crossed my mind that he appeared nervous, but I dismissed it because I didn’t want to consider what that meant. I frowned, turning to look towards the ocean. I heard him inhale deeply.

“First, I want to apologize for losing control of my emotions and acting like a tit. My comment about social media being a waste of time and effort and doing nothing but spreading hate was uncalled for, and I in no way meant to devalue you or your work. All of the feelings I entombed broke loose and I’m so very sorry you had to bear witness to my little crackup.” I turned to look at him and patted his knee.

“No worries. Everybody loses their shit to some degree at one point or another.” He pointed at me, brow raised. “Yes, even me. But really, this was nothing. I once had a client scream ‘this mother fucking social media bullshit has ruined my fucking career and my cunt of a wife fucking left me and now I’m going to have to pay her a fuck ton of alimony and it’s all your fault, you stupid fucking fat piece of shit’ in my face.” Tom’s mouth was closed so tightly his lips were a tiny, thin line. “He was so inept that he accidentally posted a photo of his girlfriend sucking his cock across all his accounts instead of sending it directly to her phone. Best part was that he took the shot in the mirror so his face was clearly visible.”

He put his hand on mine. “Tell me who it was and I’ll happily beat the living shit out of him.”

“Thanks, but not necessary. I handled it. By slapping him three times. And telling him that if I ever heard even a whisper of him saying another derogatory thing about me I’d hunt him down, rip his nuts off with my bare hands and feed them to him for dinner.”

Tom’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You did no such thing.” I laughed.

“Oh, but I did. And then I fired his sorry ass. And then his band fired his sorry ass. Last I heard he was broke and filing for bankruptcy. Karma, Thomas. She is indeed a wicked bitch.” Before I knew what was happening he leaned in and enveloped me in an embrace. Time came to a grinding halt and I was frozen in place. He rubbed my back for a moment and released me before I even had a chance to hug him back. He remained close, his face only inches from mine.

“Maude, you are an amazing woman. And absolutely beautiful.” I blinked. It was the only thing I was physically capable of doing. I considered telling him that being called fat was a common occurrence for me, though it did happen less now that I was a size 14 instead of a 24…and that it really never got under my skin. Because, fuck that. I had never been lacking in the self-esteem department no matter what the scale said. Or my mother said. I had just come to the conclusion that I’d save that particular tidbit for you know, never, when I felt something under my chin. It was Tom’s hand.

“Shit, sorry, I got lost there for a bit. Woolgathering.” He smirked as he slid his fingers and thumb along my jaw and slowly backed away. He put his hand over his heart.

“Second on my list of things to say… I’m afraid I have a confession to make.” I made a get on with it motion with my right hand. “Earlier, at Talk Story, my requesting you specifically to assist me may not have been entirely a happenstance of fate.” I raised an eyebrow.

“When I walked in, the desk was completely deserted so I wandered off to see if I could locate someone to help me. After coming out of a side room I glanced back at the desk, saw the lovely girls in their Loki shirts, realized they were all staff members, and admittedly panicked a bit. Not because they were fans, but because I had very little time and I knew they’d want a few moments with me and I just couldn’t squeeze it in. I’d worn the ugly shirt and cap so people would be less apt to recognize me for that very reason.”

I poked him in the chest. “You know you have to go back there, don’t you? That adorable girl Alani will die of heartbreak knowing that you were in the store and she didn’t get to meet you.” He grinned.

“I absolutely will. And I’ll ask for her by name. But, on with my confession. So, there I was, caught like the proverbial deer in headlights. And then I saw…you. You had two books in one hand, and a several spread out on a table. I heard your phone alarm go off, and I saw your lips move but couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. I watched you gather them up as if they were precious treasures, and I sneakily followed you as you returned them gently to their proper places. I saw someone with a very obvious love for books, who happened to be a gorgeous woman, a ray of light shining through the early morning fog.  It seemed logical that you were an employee, or perhaps the owner, but…here’s the confession part… I honestly didn’t care whether you were or not. I just had to meet you, and my book reservation was the perfect cover story in the event my logic was flawed. I hesitated when I was finally directly behind you, and when you turned around I almost lost my nerve, but when you looked into my eyes I knew it was now or never. ” He took a deep breath, and I noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. I reached out and took one in mine.

“I thought you may have recognized me, and was waiting for you to out me. I really was. Instead, you marched up to that desk, got my book and brought it to me even though you didn’t actually work there. You paid for the damn thing. And when you called me Indy, the fact that you not only picked up the reference but played along…” He shook his head and put his free hand on top of mine, sandwiching it between both of his.

“Which brings me to the third thing on my list of things to say. And it’s the last. On the street, when I said I wanted to find out who you were, and that I had never wanted to discover anything else quite so badly? I meant that, Maude. All the way down to the depths of my very soul.” I was speechless. Completely, utterly without words. He leaned in to meet my gaze.

“I don’t understand why, or how, or what the fuck it is exactly that I’m feeling…but what I AM certain of is that I’ve never felt it before and it’s glorious and incredible and terrifying all at once. And whether you decide to take the job or not, I still want to KNOW you, Maude. I NEED to know you.”

I smirked devilishly, hoping to add some levity to the situation so I wouldn’t totally freak the fuck out.

“Like, biblically?”

He threw back his head, laughing so loudly people down the beach turned to look our way. I started giggling, which turned into guffawing, and then the snorting started. He laughed even harder and soon enough we were both weeping and holding our sides, trying to catch our breath. I was wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand when he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, Maude. Biblically. As often as humanly possible, preferably.” He pulled back so he could see my face, trying to analyze my expression to determine what I was thinking. I smiled softly.

“I want to know you too, Tom. In every way imaginable.” He grinned, then stood, offering me a hand up. I took it. “Let’s go see a man about a job, shall we?”

************************************************ Luke was overjoyed at my acceptance of his offer and after we all had a quick dinner he broke out the bottle of champagne he’d ordered. He placed a glass in front of me and began to pour. I held up my hand in protest.

“No thank you…none for me, please.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you have any tea lying around? I’d love a cup if you do.” He went off to see what was in the kitchenette. Tom was pacing around outside, phone up to his ear, his free hand gesturing wildly. He’d just gotten word that Michael Keaton and J. K. Simmons had pulled out of Skull Island. I saw him tap the end call button and he walked back into the room just as Luke came in to tell me he hadn’t had any luck finding me some tea. He set the phone on the table.

“Well, it looks like the shoot’s been postponed until early 2016.” Luke shrugged.

“It happens, Tom. I wasn’t thrilled with either of them being cast, to be honest.” Tom sighed, then grinned at me.

“On the bright side, this gives us lots of time to get things up and running on the social media front.” I yawned. We still had a ton of details to work out as far as how we were going to proceed, but I was exhausted and needed some time alone to get in the zone for my two long days of seminars. Which would be my last, at least for a while. Knowing that felt…delightful, as much as it pained me to admit it.

“Gentlemen, I hate to be a party pooper, but I have two insane days coming up and need some rest so I don’t muck things up too badly.” They both awwweeed but I got up from my chair anyway, slinging my bag over my shoulder and picking up my shoes. “We’re still on for the museum’s hula class at five on Wednesday?”  

They nodded, and Tom rose from his chair, grinning like a fool. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. May I walk you to your room?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you must.”

He took my elbow and walked me to the door. “Oh, I must.”

I waved at Luke. “Goodnight, Luke…and thank you. If you need something, call.”

“Goodnight, Maude. And thank you. This is a game changer for Prosper, and I appreciate you being on board. I couldn’t make it happen otherwise.” He closed the door behind us.

Tom stopped out in the hallway. “Where is your room, exactly?” I headed for the stairs. We walked in silence, just basking in each others presence. I stopped in front of my room, found my keycard in my bag and opened the door. He pointed to the number.

“Oh, 203…you’re right above Luke.” I just stood there and watched his face, waiting for it to dawn on him. When it finally did, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, finally spluttering “Right above. Luke. Your room. Is.”

It was my turn to grin like a fool. “Yes, yes it is. If you take another run in the morning you may want to look up periodically. You never know, I just might forget to close the balcony doors again.”