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anika-ann · 4 years

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Errare Humanum Est - Pt.14

God’s Will and Fate’s Jokes

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 2900

Summary: Steve is not the only man out of time to be found in New York, Manhattan. And he sure as hell isn’t the only one struggling with what he’s done and lost.

Warnings: mentions of violence, guns and death, swearing, a bit of a talk about religion

A/N: Ah, you want to know how the reunion will turn out? Understandable… So I’m gonna insert a Bucky chapter, with fragments of how he had been. I promise two little cameos from a Netflix TV series in exchange though, so hopefully I can be forgiven.

Story masterlist

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The wind was gradually getting chillier with New York City further diving into autumn. Bucky readjusted his leather jacket to shield himself from it, but it was just a force of a habit. He had been frozen – several times, as he remembered now – and cold didn’t bother him for a while now. This was barely ‘cold’. His boots shuffled on the pavement with each step, a noise that seemed to drown in the busy streets.

The evening was slowly drifting into a night time, but in Manhattan, the streets never really fell into silence, always pulsing with life, sometimes calmer, mostly rapid though.

Bucky shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighed, stopping in front of the rather tall building – then again, this was New York, tall meant something different here – , his destination.

His mind was preoccupied, for the millionth time lost in the past; for a change, not in his own.

The fact he had been unfrozen during the decades gave him an advantage of being able to keep up with modern times; and there was nothing that couldn’t be found on the Internet, especially when one knew where and how to look, maybe even peak where others couldn’t for the lack of access or ability.

Then again, Captain America’s life story wasn’t exactly a heavily guarded secret and Bucky couldn’t decide whether he couldn’t believe his eyes while reading, or whether he actually wasn’t surprised at all when learning what his former best friend had been up to after he (and the rest of the world, for that matter) thought Bucky was gone.

He had dived a plane which was about to level New York and other great cities of America to the ground. Everyone thought he died, but instead, he was trapped in ice; Bucky prayed Steve had been unconscious the whole time, not feeling the biting cold. Then, the proclaimed war hero was found and been woken up seventy years to the future, throwing himself into a fight as soon as it was needed.

And wasn’t it damn necessary – aliens attacked the Earth. Bucky now remembered seeing a lot of weird inexplicable shit. But still, this? What the hell.

The thing was, despite that, Steve’s life wasn’t all bad. He became a part of a band of superheroes and… the punk finally found his soulmate, the one he could never find before, because she hadn’t been born yet, which was insane enough on its own. However, he seemed happy.

Naturally, it had to nosedive after that; the woman of his heart and soul was dead.

Some nuthead – and to Bucky’s rage, a nuthead Bucky knew, he had been part of Hydra, which he now hoped didn’t exist anymore, because he read about Pierce being locked up along with others – had murdered her in the worst possible way right in front of Steve.

If Bucky ever considered becoming a murder machine again, after everything he knew he had done, it was upon that revelation. He wanted that man’s head. He wanted to tear him limb from limb. He was a villain, sure, that need was natural, but he had hurt Steve on top of that. No one hurt Steve and got away with it.

Apparently, the man didn’t, because he was blown up along with everyone in the building minus Steve.

Still. If Bucky ever questioned whether he still had a heart, he was sure upon that realization; he did have one and it bled for his best friend.

He wished he could be there for him, but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he could even show up after everything his hands had done, no matter who forced them. He didn’t know if he could mug up Steve’s life even worse.

It was weeks now since he had been freed and his feet led him to a church – the one church where people said goodbye to Steve’s soulmate. Bucky had read about it too, her funeral; a small service for her friends and family, but many others wished to express their condolences, say thank you to the poor soul who lost her life to theirs and their loved ones and they chose this church to do so.

Bucky had figured he could pay his respects as well.

What he didn’t count on was the roller-coaster of emotions hitting him when seeing her picture, her smile radiant and brighter than the candles illuminating her photograph.

She was pretty, there was no denial. The photo printed was from Avengers’ archives, he read as much – Bucky had no doubt that it was Steve who put that bright smile, lighting up her eyes, on her face. He believed Steve had found true happiness with her and it wasn’t just because she was his soulmate or because Bucky watched the video evidence as she faced her death and showed great bravery and kindness or because he saw Steve’s desperation in the very same footage.

Bucky simply knew; the woman seemed to truly love Steve and that was all Steve ever needed. A woman to love him unconditionally.

Life was cruel and fucked-up to take that away from him.

No, Bucky didn’t count on the rage and heartbreak chasing tears into his eyes. Neither did he expect someone to pull him out of his musing.

“Did you know her, son?” an amiable male voice caused him to wince and mentally yell at himself for a dumb lack of awareness of his surroundings. Had it been a Hydra agent, Bucky would have been dead.

He forced himself to calm his sprinting heart, the rush of adrenaline unnecessary when the only person disturbing him was an old priest with nearly bald head and a soft soothing tone of voice.

His breath shuddered.

“No, Father. I didn’t.” I knew her soulmate, Bucky could have added, but he couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself; everyone knew who her soulmate was and it would lead to uncomfortable questions. Instead, Bucky’s mind supplied him with an easy lie. “But she had her life ahead of her, all of it. She must have been happy with her soulmate if he made her smile like this.”

The shorter man nodded, removing a candle that burned out from the altar with her picture – Bucky hadn’t noticed before with many others still warming up the space with their tiny flickering flames.

“Indeed. And she surely made him equally happy,” the priest hummed, sorrow darkening his face. His eyes carried a hint of curiosity, watching Bucky inconspicuously. ”It’s a shame for such joy to be stolen by madmen. Her soulmate… I pray for him as much as I do for her soul. Broken heart heals much longer than broken bones.”

No shit. Especially when it comes to supersoldiers with enhanced healing.

“Not wrong there,” Bucky whispered, hesitantly reaching out to the small metal basket with candles and a thin piece of wood to borrow the flame from another.

Bucky didn’t believe in God for almost seventy years now. Still, when the wick caught fire, he sent a silent prayer for both Steve and his gal.

“Still, you seem troubled by more than that,” the priest whispered and made a kind offer. “You could confide me in. It is what I am here for. Perhaps it would ease your sorrow.”

I don’t think so. Neither will it ease the craving after tearing a dead man’s head off.

“I don’t think you could help, Father, no offence. I’ve never been a good Catholic and lately even less so. And you sure don’t want to hear what troubles me.”

Despite a gentle nod of understanding, he nudged Bucky once more. At the very same moment, the soldier could hear the heavy door of the church open a crack and a man walk in with a periodic taping of a thin stick.

“I only wish to help you. If something of what you possibly have done heavies you… I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. I’m not allowed.”

“I believe you, Father. But I’m not sure your own conscience would allow you to keep quiet in my case,” Bucky admitted honestly, shifting under the presence of another man despite the fact he wouldn’t be able to hear them. A periodic tapping the man carried with him was getting to Bucky’s nerve already.

He should leave. Another lost soul seeking the help of a church was a good excuse anyway.

“Trust me, son. Whatever your sins are, I’m certain I have heard worse.”

“No, Father. You haven’t,” Bucky muttered under his breath, aware of the stranger getting closer.

He turned to him, surprised to find a man of such built, carrying a walking stick for blind. His stance and body was one of a fighter, even when cladded in a cheap suit, red-tinted glasses preventing his real thoughts from displaying on his face. He appeared blind but not quite. To Bucky, he was giving an impression of pretence, at least partial.

He could only wonder why; however, he could do so on his way out.

“I’m pretty sure he did,” the newcomer joined their barely audible conversation without permission and a scowl twisted the Father’s face.

The fact that the not-so-blind? man could hear what Bucky was saying had everything in Bucky scream fight or flight.

“Matthew. What brings you here at this hour?”

The suited man shrugged light-heartedly; Bucky didn’t believe him for a second. “I thought I’d stop by. See how you’re doing.”

“Always with the jokes, Matthew. It’s not decent.”

It wasn’t. Except if Bucky was more comfortable at the moment, he would have snorted in amusement. This man was clearly comfortable in his own skin, but the skin was a charade too. Bucky didn’t want to stay to crack the mystery though.

“Forgive me, Father, then.”

“Did you come to confess?” the Father continued and Bucky recognized this was as good opportunity to leave as any, making space for the blind man to approach the priest more easily.

A brief smile passed over the Matthew’s lips. “No. Like I said, only wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The backing out of the soldier was less inconspicuous this time, caught by the priest.

“You don’t need to leave, son. Matthew is a dear friend.” And there’s more to him than it seems, Bucky was certain.

Were his the sins Father had mentioned? This man’s? Bucky wouldn’t be surprised considering the dangerous vibe he was radiating.

“I’m Matt,” the man offered swiftly and held out his hand for Bucky to shake.

Bucky was stupid enough to accept it and really, wasn’t he out of his game to make such an idiotic mistake. “…James.”

“Rather hot for gloves, isn’t it?”

Bucky fought the urge to punch this man for pointing it out and took a deep breath.

“My past injuries can… make people uncomfortable when seen.”

“I won’t see them,” the blind man challenged with the light tone to his voice again, his head tilting to side and Bucky could see the corners of his mouth twitch. It gave him the impression of the man wanting sent him a wolfish grin.

And that was the time to get the fuck out. What was Bucky thinking anyway, showing up in here?

“Matthew… perhaps it would be for the best if we leave James to his prayers and have a talk over a latté, if you’re interested at this hour?” the priest offered in a conciliatory manner, beckoning to the back for Bucky’s benefit – or for Matthew’s too?

How deeply ran the lie, the pretending? Bucky didn’t want to hang around to find out.

“Yes…” Matt hesitated, but nodded. “Perhaps. James.”

“Matt. Father.”

Bucky strode between the two lines of the pews, kind words reaching his sensitive ears.

“My invitation still stands, if you ever feel like talking. If you’re not comfortable confessing the traditional way… there’s always coffee. Same rules apply for me.”

Bucky nodded, definitely not planning on taking him upon the offer. “I appreciate the offer, Father. Goodnight.”

Since fate was a cranky bitch, a night full of horrors of the past had him wandering the streets before the sun even began to rise to the horizon.

The Father didn’t seem overly surprised that Bucky showed up again, at such ungodly hour no less.

“James. Latté?” he asked, unfazed almost.

Bucky wanted to question his decision. But he was an old man, older than the priest himself and he could believe his secret would be kept.

He nodded.

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Opening to someone about the horrors he had lived through and had been a source of was surreal. No, scratch that, it was fucking weird and telling that to a priest was twisted and seriously messed up.

Yet, once Bucky started, he couldn’t stop the verbal vomit, his hands in his hair, tears welling up in his eyes and the hoarseness of his voice that seemed to be impossible to disguise.

And the whole time he talked, the man sitting opposite to him – not touching his latté either – listened intently with compassionate and understanding eyes full of sorrow and offering kind words and his own insights of a person watching the event from a reasonable distance, far enough not to get tangled in the emotional turmoil.

It caused Bucky’s breathing to turn so difficult that he thought he might actually suffocate, but he didn’t. He might be close to choking on his own spit though at priest’s forgiving words several times, words of redemption, a chance on it only proven by a mysterious man building miracles by a flick of a hand.

“You were a victim, James. Just like anybody else,” the Father explained his point of view slowly and with patience battling the one of saints themselves. “These are not your errors to carry with you like a burden. Forgive yourself. And allow your friend the same thing. I’m sure he could benefit from having someone by his side in a time difficult like this.”

Bucky gulped, looking away as he felt awkward burn in his eyes again, a lump in his throat never disappearing.

“I can’t. At least not yet, I’m-“

The sudden change of atmosphere was palpable, the safe environment carefully created by the priest vanishing at instant as Bucky’s instinct screamed about someone else’s presence in the church – someone else’s besides the God’s servants. His senses tingled, hairs rising at the back of his neck.

“Someone’s coming.”

Father Lantom seemed once again rather unfazed, his gaze shifting to his watch.

“Well, it is after six a.m., James.”

“Father-“ the soldier warned him breathlessly, otherwise rising to his feet soundlessly, sneaking to the door, opening them for a crack to glance at the newcomer that made his heart beat out of his chest.

One peek and he swiftly pressed his back to the wall, his head hitting it with a soft thud, eyes falling shut. Even with eyes closed, he could still feel the priest’s worried gaze.

“James?”

Bucky took a deep breath, arguing with his frantic mind and heart to calm the fuck down.

It was alright. He just needed to get the Father to cause diversion and he would sneak out, making no sound. He excelled at disappearing.

“Go greet him, Father. Don’t tell him a word about having me here. Please.”

The desperate plea was enough to light up a flare of recognition in the priest’s eyes, no matter how hard it made him frown.

He sighed, sounding resigned.

“I cannot do that choice for you, James, even if I wished. I promise to keep quiet.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, beckoning to the other man to move.

The soldier stayed aligned with the wall, waiting for the right moment. It was killing him, freaking him out and yet luring him in, a mess of emotions, memories and possible scenarios of reunion playing out in his head, ranging from a fistfight to a hug even.

He needed to snap out of it.

He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Steven. What a nice surprise,” the priest greeted softly and Bucky barely contained the whine drawn to his lips. His hands curled up into fists and he bounced off of the wall, quickly assessing the most secure escape route. ”Do you require my assistance?”

“Not today, Father Lantom, but thank you.”

It was like a slap to Bucky’s face, a punch to his gut, hearing Steve’s voice; the melancholy in it and the burden he was never supposed to carry only making it worse.

For a second, Bucky wavered, faltering in his steps. His friend – former friend, still, his best friend – was right behind that door, needing someone and hurting and what was Bucky doing? Running away, like a coward?

“Are you alright?” the punk continued, expression concern for the not-exactly-older man and that was it. He caught a scent of something fishy right away.

Bucky’s mind yelled at him to get the hell out. His gaze returned to the door leading to a chamber and bathroom, hoping to find a small window. He crossed the distance in long quick steps.

“Yes, Steven, thank you. I simply have another troubled soul in the back room...”

Bucky slipped through the other door, finding what he wished for – an escape route. As he opened the window, taking care not to make the tiniest sound, Steve’s voice was slowly fading away.

“Don’t let me disturb you then, Father.”

By the time Father Lantom returned to the chamber, James Buchannan Barnes was gone. The priest only sighed in resignation; he more than half-expected it would come to that. He only hoped that the troubled soldier would find his way back eventually.

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Part 15

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So… am I? Forgiven? Please? I prooooomise the Steve/reader reunion will take place in the next chapter and it might actually be worth the wait ;)

Thank you for reading!

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diariesofaplutonian · 4 years

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Pluto in the 1st and 12th houses

Pluto in the 12th House natives have deep, rich inner lives, but often suffer privately from intense mental battles and struggles. These people are often intimately acquainted with the notion of suffering. They feel pain very heavily and if not careful, they can let it consume and ravage them. I’ve noticed a lot of these natives are intensely talented or artistic or creative, in fact, a lot of musicians have this placement; that being said, natives also seem to immensely struggle with severe depression for they are easily overcome with unfortunate life events and stresses/stressors. Sometimes, it may feel as though life has it out for them. They may grapple with despondency or chronic depression. These individuals can struggle to remain positive when it seems their faith is always tested, but these individuals are also gifted with extraordinary willpower and intense focus, discipline, and dedication. They have the power to make all their dreams come true; their superpower is their relentless ambition, and the responsibility they feel to the world to prove themselves: this is their number one obligation and promise to themselves. They hardly ever fail in this act: proving themselves. Many of them deeply struggle with insecurity and may have an inferiority complex or suffer from imposter syndrome when it comes to their beliefs in their talents or abilities. They battle against these fears, doubts, and anxieties when they consistently demonstrate how bold, how fearless, how determined, and how gifted they are. They do, however, often internalize their failures as proof of some kind of self-issue, some inadequacy, some inability to do good, some lack, proof of bad performance, etc. They need to realize that even when they feel subpar, the work they do is optimal, and the world can use their gifts, so they should embrace all the skills they have to offer. One of the downsides of this placement is that while these natives often fall in love with potential, they most often fail to see their own. They also need to stop doubting the possibility of an outcome and start finishing what they start to reap the efforts of what they produce, so even if they do manage to not live up to their own exceptionally high standards, they will know it is because it wasn’t the right project and not that they weren’t the right person for the job. Sometimes, they can truly be their own worst enemy; they need to stop letting their inner voice undermine their relationships and their lives. They build walls sky high around their heart because they don’t want to be let down, and if their defenses are up, they falsely believe their security can’t be threatened. Many carry deep wounds stemming from unhappy childhoods, wounds they have lodged deep inside of them. Many have never fully recovered from or properly addressed traumatic life experiences. May have an aversion to or distrust of not only modern medicine, doctors, and healing practices, but a distrust of hospitals, therapists, psych units, and counseling, as well. May have issues talking about their deep-rooted fears.

Very private, complex individuals. Vigilant because they’ve experienced harrowing episodes or encountered visions they should have never had to bear. May have been witness to shocking events they shouldn’t have seen. May often find themselves in the wrong place, wrong time scenario. Often seeks out danger. Parts of them are incredibly reckless, daredevil-like, driven, and sensation-seeking. Finds not comfort, but intense pleasure in thrill and high-risk activity. Constantly chasing a high—not necessarily drug-induced—and pushing the boundaries of themselves. Constantly defying self-limits. Often suffers from loneliness and feels exiled from the world or even rejected or unaccepted because they’re too weird or dark or unusual or frightening, in a way that they don’t follow the rules, or they’re the black sheep of some sorts, but more often than not, their isolation is self-imposed. Well-versed with their shadow side. Trust doesn’t come easy to them, but once they have it and it remains unbroken, you will have their loyalty for life. They also reward loyalty. Their friends/confidantes are their closest allies. Harbor many secrets. Has addictive habits. May have grief due to private dilemmas. Feels uncomfortable with but unafraid of death. Intense control issues—if not properly resolved, this can lead them to be very controlling. Intense love affairs. May have a hard-knock life, even if successful career-wise, with many ups and downs. May have difficulty regulating or controlling their emotions. May struggle to find inner peace. May question their purpose or belonging. May feel trapped or powerless in situations involving spiritual matters—i.e. God—or earthly/temporal matters, such as life or death. May feel tested and challenged by unpredictability but thrive off of it or need an element of unpredictability in their lives to feel useful, inspired, or creative. Creativity is often linked to deep pain, in these natives. It is often an emotional outlet for them. These natives feel uncomfortable when they feel seen by others. Incredibly resilient, brave individuals. They lack a strong self-concept. Identity is weathered by forces the natives cannot always see but are often held back by. Struggles with deep sadness and loss or grave emotional pain at times. Feels strongest when not experiencing the uncomfortable emotion of regret—this emotion is the most difficult for them to confront/contend with. They’d rather feel nothing at all. Natives may have a stark view of themselves or a black and white picture of the world. Their internal or external reality/world may be harsh to them or unlivable.

Pessimistic at times, prone to cynicism. Intensely probing, thoughtful, solemn, demonstrative, reserved. Much internal activity. Acutely sensitive to their environments—emotional/psychic and physical. Senses, intuits, and often feels other people’s emotions. Perceives others’ objectives or goals, and others’ thoughts of them. Has an instinctive grasp on human nature, especially of the shadows and the darkness and all else that is germane to the human condition. Suffers a lot in the world, sometimes by their own hand/as a result of their own doing (self-inflicted pain is often their coping mechanism). Needs better coping skills—healthy ones. May self-harm or turn to self-destructive behavior when in a rough spot. May be the victim of poverty during youth. May duel themselves. Often subject to high stress. May believe in the existence of supernatural entities, i.e. ghosts, aliens, demons, etc. Very active imagination, dark thoughts that they attempt to run away from. Seeks refuge in solitude. Silent by choice. Natural observer. Knows more than they seem to know. Omits on purpose. May have unusual proclivities, i.e. engage in activities considered taboo or NSFW. In touch with their “wild” side—the parts of themselves most people are uncomfortable with. Relishes in what makes people uncomfortable. Finds joy and incomparable beauty in that. Attempts to fill a void caused by a state of incompleteness. Strives to assuage that with superficial emotions, relationships or vices, but it only leaves them more desperate and more empty, feeling more deprived. Always analyzing themselves and others. Danger of too much self-analysis. May be prone to self-violence (real or metaphorical). Intrigued by distressing situations, moodiness and violence. Doesn’t like nosiness. Prone to internal self-conflict and fanatical obsessions. Strong sexual appetites. May feed into lies or deceit out of self-preservation. May disguise selfishness through seemingly selfless sacrifices/acts, which are used to gain the favor of someone so they can do their bidding. Can be forceful or coercive at times. Very fixed and untenable at times. Learns a lot about life through painful experiences and private ordeals or feelings of being in crisis or having suffered identity or existential or health crises. These obstacles only serve to make them stronger and build/solidify their character, however. Adversity feeds and replenishes their spirit and helps them sprout wings, though, it feels like swallowing poison. They may, however, experience bouts of mortal illness or encounter near fatality as a result of such ordeals and life tests/tragedies, which is a testament to their individual strength. Clings to a feeling of independence and armors themselves with it. The first to say “I can do it on my own”—needs, not wants to make it through life saying they did it without help. Needs to realize that everybody needs help sometimes and they can’t indeed do it all on their own. There’s no shame in needing help or needing to take a break sometimes. Emotional scars must be dealt with. May be malicious or spiteful/vindictive when angry, which can come back to them in the form of karma. May face/encounter many near-death experiences in their lifetime or remember past lifetimes of violence or violent death. May have vivid and possibly violent dreams or suffer from nightmares. May be haunted by the past in the form of past lovers, past unresolved traumas, past relationships/friendships, past actions, past bills, past secrets, etc. Their past is never unburied, it seems. It always comes back to bite them. Seduced or entranced by the notion of revenge, for some, others by the idea of creating something permanent, whether via their work or via they, themselves.

Pluto in the 1st House natives inspire intense feelings from others—positive or negative. Public reaction to them is nearly always extreme—they are either worshipped or conspired against, loathed and plotted against. They inspire very polarizing reactions from people. For as many people rooting for their downfall, or for as many haters as they have, they have admirers who believe they can do no wrong. They attract massive fanfare and devotion from those who do support them, who often support them for life in a ride-or-die fashion. These individuals tend to suffer many private betrayals and public backlashes or attacks on their character and reputation. They are often subject to nasty rumors and lies made up by those who hate them or want to see them “ruined” or “destroyed.” Most of it is not true, but these attempts at character assassination often successfully taint their image or sully the general public’s perception of them. They often have to win them back. May have to admit or show weaknesses or give the allusion of groveling in order to gain public support again. Often loses themselves and has to recover themselves. If not careful, they can destroy themselves, as they are very self-destructive people. May turn to drugs or negative coping mechanisms such as gambling or alcoholism or other recreational drug use when feeling defeated or down in life. Doesn’t really know how to address painful, negative emotions without being swallowed by them. Often ruin themselves trying to cope with the pain they feel internally that they can’t escape. Paranoid and untrusting, but for good reason. A lot of people close to them have shady intentions or are trying to use them or manipulate them or get close to them for deceptive motives. May be subject to blackmail by friends turned enemies, lovers turned enemies, and so on, more than actual perceived enemies/foes. Are often “ruined” by those closest to them, though, while these attempts may seem victorious, those with Pluto in the 1st house or Pluto conjunct Ascendant often triumph in the end because they rule comebacks. If anything, being “canceled” or reviled only motivates them. They will succeed at all costs, and no hate can prevent that. These natives possess a controlled image. Part of them wants to be known, more of them wants to be unknown, or at the very least, they wish to control what you do see of them. They are often obsessed with power, their own and that of others. Gaining power, losing power, reducing someone else’s power, etc. Feels most empowered when they are in control. Needs to feel like the boss or the one running the show/pulling the strings. Needs to feel like an authority figure.

Often is very close to a mentor or father-like figure that tends to be older and wiser, often in the field of business or coaching. May manufacture an enigmatic personality or genuinely have one but hide behind it for privacy or safety purposes. Fearful of being anyone’s puppet. Doesn’t want to give their power away. Fears being controlled by others and retaliates when they feel dictated to or controlled. Their relationships are often high-stakes, high drama, and emotionally demanding. May be addicted to toxic people—drama and chaos, especially of the emotional kind, and power struggles give them a rush, though, they may deny this and claim they hate drama and toxicity. Can be manipulated or abused in relationships, or they themselves can abuse their power, especially if they are abusing a substance or easily influenced at the time. Often in crisis. These natives tend to have deep, penetrating gazes and luminous eyes. For as much as they value privacy, when they do inevitably have a fall from grace, it is often painfully, visibly made public, quite to their embarrassment, and all their secrets are “exposed.” Most of them try to get ahead of potential scandals or involuntary public releases about them by self-disclosing embarrassing, scandalous information or personally divulging their secrets and “exposing” themselves so they get ahead of the story and don’t become the story, so they control the narrative. Control is really important to them—not just the illusion of it but the actual concept of being able to take action or determine the course of an event without being dictated by it. They often disappear and reappear in the public eye at will. These are not the type of people to go make an apology on the notes app when they do something the public doesn’t like. They will address their actions when they feel like it and if they feel like it and only if they do feel like it, always on their own terms. And they don’t apologize unless they mean it, so don’t expect to see them putting out disingenuous statements. They always have their guard up because they are weary of being hurt and they’re used to going through unsettling situations. Have dry humor and strong physical/sexual hungers/appetites/lusts; may be shady at times. Have dealt with a lot of trauma in their lives, for many early on, in their childhood. May succumb to their deepest, innermost fears if not careful. May suffer from intense paranoia—always suspicious of loved ones. Fear of being [double-]crossed or backstabbed. May have a difficult time forgiving or understanding people who turn their back on them. A sense of mystery surrounds them. Time does not heal their pain. Struggle feeling isolated and alone but needs lots of alone time and goes through periods where they shut themselves off from everybody and go ghost for a while, typically to recover from private battles, or draw back/recover strength from life. Acutely aware of their own mortality. Recovery to them looks like healing. They often call this—healing—surviving.

Resolute, assertive individuals. Can contradict themselves at times. A web of contradictions emerge when specifically attempting to define who they are. Struggles to feel healthy emotions, easily overpowered by their own excess emotional energy. Can feel dead inside sometimes. Often secretly struggles with addiction, past trauma (including in some cases sexual or emotional or physical abuse, depending on other factors, as well), and suicidal ideation. Frequently possesses a low mood or bleak outlook on life. Struggles to keep positive. Finds enlightenment in the most unexpected, unusual places. Often finds God or the spiritual equivalent after some tragedy—doesn’t have to be a near-death experience—or after hitting rock bottom, however they define it—this may be losing the love of their life, being fired from their job, being publicly ousted or held accountable for some moral breach, being sued, being accused of alleged wrongdoing, true or false, etc. They nearly have to lose everything—or what is most important to them—to come to some great epiphany or startling realization and make drastic changes in their life. Sometimes, they may wait until it’s too late. Difficult to decipher. Subject to varying moods, sulking, and general somber periods. Some natives may have a morbid fascination (curiosity) with their own death, or on the opposite side, a healthy fear of it. May struggle to have/develop/facilitate a healthy relationship, not only with others, but with themselves. Good judge of character, but can be blinded by infatuation or blind trust at times. When they fall, they fall hard. Very intuitive and sensitive, perceptive individuals. Self-transformation often comes at the cost of something they want, including their selves. Sometimes, it’s as though parts of them have to die in order for more of them to live. Often very powerful, secretive individuals who come to amass much power in life, but can just as easily lose it. Overwhelmingly strong survival instinct. A need to conquer, to be the best, and to win. Dominant personalities. Difficult to know, not difficult to love. Tend to have many secret admirers and enemies, and are feverishly wanted or desired by those who can’t or shouldn’t have, want, or want to have them. Besides having a magnetic gaze, these natives often have an intriguing, possibly even sexual aura that either strongly repels or attracts others. After a breakup, can be demonized or made the villain by past vengeful partners, especially if there were sordid affairs or the native was unfaithful.

#astrology #zodiac #pluto #pluto in the houses #1st house #12th house #astro notes #astrology notes #astrology observations #my post #personal #text #n #me #my words #mine #how i feel #pluto conjunct ascendant #aspects

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particularemu · 4 years

Text

Photographic | A Hwang Hyunjin Fic

Word Count: 7898

Type: Smut

Warnings: Not really anything.

Author’s Note: Why is this so fucking long? OOF.

This took me a whole-ass month to finish. I hope y’all like this shy Jinnie smut.

Ding!

“Damnit!” You cursed as your phone alarm went off, signaling that your model would be here in around 30 minutes — that is, if he wasn’t early.

Please please please, don’t be the guy who feels the need to show up super early to everything!

The room was already heated to a warm temperature. The gods had blessed you with an overly prepared studio — complete with a pair of shorts and a thin T-shirt for you to change into because 75 degrees Fahrenheit is just not a good temperature for a photographer to work well in, dressed in a hoodie and heavy ass sweatpants.

Why in the hell did you decide to dress like a homeless person during the biggest shoot of your life? The world may never know.

You quickly threw off your heavy clothes and changed into your shorts and T-shirt, frantically rubbing your cucumber scented deodorant under your armpits to hide the fact that you didn’t make it to the shower yesterday. After tossing your clothes into the nearest closet and spritzing yourself with perfume for good measure, you decided you were at least presentable.

How embarrassing would it be to have your beautiful model turn up his nose at your smell?

Very!

Unfortunately, you learned that from experience. You couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of that jerk, scrunching up his nose before turning and walking out of the studio claiming that you were nasty.

Well he had a point. It wasn’t your fault your shower was broken for two weeks. There wasn’t enough perfume and deodorant to cover the fact that you hadn’t showered in ages.

Now that’s a scenario you’d rather not re-live.

You ran through the checklist in your head. Earlier that morning, you went to the store and picked up some refreshments. There was a cracker tray with ham and turkey, a water jug in the refreshment area, and you managed to get some fruits and veggies.

Fuck! You had to plate the fruit and veggies.

You pulled out a crystal plate — one your mother gave you after you bought your studio — and arranged some grapes, cut celery, carrots, and orange slices in a pretty pattern, hoping it’ll help you look as professional as you’re supposed to be.

Who knew a super professional photographer wouldn’t have their shit together?

You always wanted your models to feel super comfortable during the shoot, so you always provided a little refreshment area, fully equipped with a luxury looking couch that you found for $100 at a little antique store, water, food, and a soft robe you’d have specially made for them.

Speaking of which… Where’s Hyunjin’s robe?

You frantically searched around your studio, hoping it would randomly appear in the closet. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. You searched every closet, room, and piece of furniture, only to find it hung in the dressing room — you know… where it was supposed to be.

Fucking hell you were a mess.

Ding Dong!

Your heart started beating a mile a minute when you heard the doorbell. It’s not that you were nervous for the shoot. No you’ve been doing this far too long to be nervous over seeing a naked man. You just felt under-prepared.

Okay, now’s not the time to panic. We have to take this step by step. First step: let the model into the studio.

The morning was so hectic, you were hoping you had everything in place for the shoot. The last thing you wanted to do was make the poor boy uneasy before his first nude photoshoot.

You opened the door, smiling when you saw the beautiful man across the threshold.

“Hello, I’m Hwang Hyunjin.” He bowed to you, a bright smile on his face. “I’m excited to be working with you.”

You couldn’t help but stare at the boy in wonder. He truly was beautiful — not that you didn’t know that! After all, you did look at his file which included some bare faced headshots.

You couldn’t help but admire how well he dressed. The boy was clad in black skinny jeans, a red button up shirt, and a leather jacket. He had a green scarf wrapped around his neck, nose pressing into the soft material to protect him from the cold.

Wait… It definitely isn’t normal to stare at someone while they stand in the snow. He stood awkwardly for a bit before shooting you a dazzling smile, bringing you back to earth in time to realize how weird you were acting.

“I’m sorry, please come in!” You stepped to the side, gesturing for him to come inside.

The tall boy stepped into the studio, eyes widening as he scanned the impressive building. He wasn’t used to working with photographers with such big budgets. Hyunjin was still pretty new in the modeling business, so he mainly worked with photographers trying to get their start with photos in public parks and in the streets. His worst experience was modeling for a beginner photographer who forced him to model in the mud for 4 hours without a break.

Hyunjin cringed as he remembered that shoot. It was one he’d rather not have on his resume.

“Wow. It’s nice and warm in here.” Hyunjin pulled the scarf down from his nose, slipping his jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

“Yes! It’s nice compared to the freezing cold outside. Let me know if you need the temperature changed at all during the shoot. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.” You smiled at him, gesturing towards a table. “I have a few things I need to go over with you before we start.”

Hyunjin nodded and sat in a chair at the end of the table. He couldn’t help but wonder what you had planned for this shoot. Sure, he had a vague idea of what he’d be doing, but he wasn’t sure if you planned for a sensual, sexy shoot, or perhaps something else. The only information he got when he applied for the job was that he’d be doing a nude shoot with the best photographer in the city — well… in his opinion.

“So, from what I recall, you applied for this photoshoot, so you know exactly what the details are, but just in case you are uncomfortable with anything, I’d like to go over the details again.” You slid a packet across the table, showing him a few paragraphs.

“Basically, I want to project the message that men don’t have to be buff and masculine all the time. I want to show a softer, more vulnerable side of men.”

Hyunjin nodded, eyes focused on you as you explained the details for him. He couldn’t help but admire you as you spoke so passionately about your work. It was clear photography was the path you were meant to be on. Hyunjin had to admire that — he still wasn’t quite sure if modeling was the career he wanted to stick with. After all… his looks would only last so many years. What happens when he gets older? When his looks fade? Then he’d be nothing.

Hyunjin mentally kicked himself. He should be listening to you, not focusing on his adult angst.

You explained the details of the shoot as you mentally devoured the boy in your mind. The way he fiddled with his fingers as his brown eyes shifted to look at the paperwork made your heart pang against your chest. He makes the most simple tasks look so beautiful.

You couldn’t help but feel extremely attracted to the guy. How could you not? He was young, beautiful, respectful, and he appeared to have a great personality.

Yep… you were head over heels for the boy and he’s only been in your studio for all of five minutes.

“I’m going to need you to sign these forms. I know the company gave you some to sign, but I need to protect my own ass. All these are saying is that you consent to being nude and you consent to me taking your pictures. I’m not going to have you sign the release forms until after we take pictures. Then you can decide whether or not you want them released to the public.” You explained. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look the forms over.”

Wait, he didn’t have to sign the release form? Hyunjin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’s only been in this business a couple years, but he’s never heard of photographers skipping the release forms until after the shoot. What would happen if the models refused to sign? Then the whole shoot would be for nothing.

This was a breath of fresh air, considering the fact that new models usually don’t have a say in anything.

“Do you have many models refuse to sign the release form?” Hyunjin questioned, eyes skimming the text of the forms in front of him.

“Believe it or not, I’ve had a couple refuse to sign them. When we get newbies, sometimes they look at the pictures and they feel like they shouldn’t have gone through with a nude shoot, and I don’t know… I just don’t want anyone to feel like they’re roped in to having their naked body circulating around the internet.” You picked up your phone, hoping some random Instagram scrolling would distract you from your nerves.

Hyunjin pulled a pen out of the pencil cup and signed the forms. “That’s nice of you. Most photographers wouldn’t care that much.”

“Well consent is key.” You smiled at him. “I know what it’s like to have that taken away so I don’t want anyone to go through that.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at your words. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh nothing like that!” You waved your hands in front of you, instantly regretting your choice of words. “No, I had my pictures stolen once.” You laughed nervously. “A partner I was working with took all the credit. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“It still must have sucked.” Hyunjin smiled. “Kudos to you for keeping a cool head.”

“Oh I didn’t at the time.” You chuckled. “I was so upset because I was so new. Those landscape pictures were going to help me make it in the big leagues.” You sighed as you remembered the events that unfolded. “But, I managed to make it big with nude photographs, so I guess it all worked out in the end.”

Hyunjin smiled and signed the space on the last page before putting the pen back in the cup. “All the forms are signed.”

“Perfect. Let’s get you over here in the makeup chair, and I’ll do your makeup for the shoot.” You pointed over to a light-up beauty mirror, the countertop filled with makeup products you planned to use on Hyunjin.

“You do your own makeup?” Hyunjin was a bit surprised. Usually photographers hired makeup artists for the models.

“When it’s simple stuff I do it myself.” You chuckled as Hyunjin sat in the chair. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you look like Pennywise.”

Hyunjin laughed. “I didn’t think you’d do bad. I’m just surprised.”

You smiled and started putting some light makeup on Hyunjin. You skipped the foundation, hoping to keep the mole under his right eye visible. Besides, his skin was perfect enough that he didn’t need foundation. Hyunjin’s eyes closed as you applied some natural looking eyeshadow, enhancing his beautiful brown eyes. Last but not least, you applied a lip stain to the inner part of his plump lips, blending it out so his lips looked freshly kissed.

Hyunjin opened his eyes, smiling at the natural look you put on him. As much as he loved getting fully glammed out for certain photoshoots, he felt more like himself when his skin was left bare.

You stepped back, admiring your work before telling Hyunjin, “I’m ready when you are. I have a robe in the dressing room over there.” You gestured towards the small room. “You can wear that between shots if you’d like, or you can go au natural. I don’t really care. I’ve seen lots of naked people.”

You couldn’t help but cringe at your choice of words. Yep, that’s definitely what you want to tell a guy you’re into. Tell him you’ve seen a ton of naked people. That’ll help him fall in love with you.

“Y’know. Because I take pictures of naked people. Not because I’m a slut.”

Nice cover.

Hyunjin laughed at your awkwardness and headed to the dressing room, closing the velvet curtain so he could undress in privacy. He couldn’t help but gawk at the dressing room you provided. The room was pretty big, complete with a fancy looking chair, a rack with hangers, and a soft looking robe with his name embroidered into the fabric.

Hyunjin ran his thumb over the red letters, feeling his heart beat in his chest. He had to admit, he was really nervous for this shoot. Of course he knew that he’d be naked for this photoshoot and he wasn’t exactly insecure about his body, but his admiration for you was making him a bit nervous.

Truth is — he liked you way too much. Your strong and daring personality sent his heart fluttering in his chest. Being naked in front of you seemed daunting.

But he had to go through with it. Hyunjin unbuckled his belt, sliding the smooth leather out of his belt buckles before hanging it neatly on the clothes rack. He quickly stepped out of his pants and boxers. Hyunjin pulled his shirt over his head, hanging everything up neatly so nothing would wrinkle, leaving him bare before the mirror.

He glanced at his body in the mirror, suddenly wondering if you’d think he was good enough. Sure you had the opportunity to look at his face, but his digitals included a shirt. Maybe he wasn’t muscular enough for you? Would you find him sexy the way he was?

Hyunjin shook his head, a light blush coating his cheeks. What does it matter if you find him sexy? This was a WORKING relationship, not a romantic one. It’s not like he’s trying to seduce you at a bar, he’s posing naked for you so you could take photos of him.

Hyunjin grabbed the robe off the hanger, sliding it over his shoulders before deciding that — no, he probably didn’t need to wear that thing. After all, he’d just be getting naked in front of you.

But would it be weird to walk out naked? Knock it off! She’s probably seen several naked people who were confident in their naked-ness. He just needed to walk out there, and own his body. Maybe then you’ll find him sexy?

While Hyunjin was undressing, you found yourself in a deep mental argument with yourself.

Why on earth was this boy making you so nervous?

Sure he’s beautiful, but you’ve seen lots of beautiful people before. You’ve never been this attracted to the other beautiful people, but oh no…

No! You can’t do that. You’re about to do a nude photoshoot with the poor thing, you can’t be romantically interested in the beautiful boy.

It was completely clear that Hyunjin wasn’t 100% comfortable doing this nude photoshoot, so you can’t freak him out even more by telling him he’s the most beautiful human being to walk this earth. He’d probably think you were a freak!

“Um… I’m done.” Hyunjin’s soft voice shook you out of your thoughts.

Dear God.

Hyunjin was beautiful with clothes on, but without… UGH.

Hyunjin had such flawless milky skin. You could see little beauty marks down his body, making you want nothing more than to trace your fingers along each and every mark. He wasn’t super muscular, but he wasn’t a beanpole either.

Hyunjin was the definition of beautiful.

“I uh… figured I’d wear this between shots, since we’re starting I didn’t really feel the need to put it on.” Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed a bit, giving away his nerves and sending your emotions into overdrive.

If you haven’t fallen for the boy already, you certainly have now.

“That’s fine!” You couldn’t help but stare at Hyunjin’s body, admiring everything from subtle dips in his abdomen to his perfectly rounded shoulders.

Not only was his skin beautiful, you had an excellent view of… other things. The boy was completely hairless below the neck. He must have gotten waxed or something before the shoot. You couldn’t help but glance down, noticing that his dick was quite an impressive size when it wasn’t erect. Your mind wandered, wondering what it’d look like when it was standing tall.

Quit staring! You’re freaking out the poor boy.

You grabbed your camera, hoping the cold metal in your hands would distract you from your growing attraction to Hyunjin.

“Okay, I’m going to have you lay on the bed.” You pointed to the mattress sitting near a window in your studio. “Lay on your back and bend your left leg at the knee.”

Hyunjin did as you asked, positioning himself on the soft blankets. “Like this?”

You stood back, admiring the boy’s positioning for a minute. It was a good first try, but you needed him to relax. Hyunjin’s limbs were so stiff, he just looked uncomfortable as he rested upon the blankets. You had to find a way to get him to relax.

“You look a bit stiff. Try to relax.” You spoke softly, hoping your low voice would calm him a bit. You dimmed the lights so you would achieve a darker set of photos to compliment his milky skin.

Hyunjin took a deep breath, hoping to calm his body enough to get decent pictures for you. He tried to think about calming things — the sounds of the ocean, his bed at home, your hands running along his body as he rocked into you.

Wait what?

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as if it were possible for you to hear what he was thinking. God he needed to get you out of his head, otherwise he could be sporting an erection soon. Think about anything but you… Okay, night walks, K-Dramas, your lips against his.

Fuck.

Hyunjin was in trouble.

“Hey, I told you to relax not stiffen up even more.” You giggled.

Hyunjin laughed a bit before his body relaxed slightly. That’ll be good enough for now. You figured he’d loosen up the more you got into the shoot.

“Perfect. Now bring your right hand to your forehead.” You brought the heel of your hand to the edge of your right brow, showing him how you’d like his hand to be positioned.

How on earth did you make that look so elegant? For a second, Hyunjin questioned how he was even a model. He put his hand awkwardly on his forehead, wondering how you made that look so effortless and natural. “Like this?”

“Not quite.” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of a different way to explain it to him. “Bend all of your fingers, except your index finger. That one should be most of the way up.”

Hyunjin’s brows creased as he tried to comprehend what you were saying. “I’m sorry I don’t understand.” His face reddened with embarrassment.

“Can I touch you?” Perhaps this would be easier if you could just position the boy.

Fuck. If you started touching him, who knows what would happen. He was really hoping his dick would behave. Although it made him nervous, Hyunjin nodded anyway. He wanted to help you take good pictures.

You smiled and placed his hand the way you preferred, making sure to angle his long fingers so they looked more elegant. Once you got his hands in place, you tilted his chin with your index finger, smiling when his bright eyes met yours.

After checking his position in the camera, you decided that he looked perfect. “Okay, that looks better.” You whispered before positioning your body next to the bed. “Are you ready to start?”

Hyunjin nodded, looking forward to seeing you at work.

You snapped various pictures of Hyunjin as he adjusted his position ever-so-slightly to give you his best angles. The boy sure knew how to model.

Hyunjin still looked a bit stiff though. You figured making small talk might help the boy feel more comfortable in the studio.

“So, how long have you been in the modeling industry?” You asked, snapping a couple more pictures as his gaze shifted to you.

“About 2 years now. I started when I turned 18, but I’ve never done anything like this.” Hyunjin’s eyes shifted away from the camera, cheeks flushing slightly.

That’d be a perfect shot!

Snap!

“That’s cool. What made you want to take this job?” You couldn’t help but wonder. He clearly wasn’t comfortable being nude in front of the camera, but he still seemed excited about the shoot.

“I’ve always admired your work.” He blushed a bit. “When I first got into modeling, I wanted to do a photoshoot with you, but my company told me you only did nude shoots.”

When he first started, Hyunjin thought he’d never do nude photoshoots, but then he stumbled upon your portfolio. You managed to make the human body look so elegant, so beautiful, without making the photos look like nude selfies you’d send to your long distance girlfriend.

After witnessing your talent and seeing a job open up, he just had to take it.

“That’s a lie.” You scoffed. “I don’t just take pictures of naked men.”

Hyunjin giggled a bit at your outburst. “What do you enjoy taking pictures of?”

You lowered the camera, thinking about it for a bit. “I enjoy taking pictures of people. I think the human body is beautiful. I guess that’s how I got roped into doing nude photoshoots. But it’s not all I do.”

You paused the conversation, telling him to adjust his position. “Turn and face me.”

Hyunjin did as you asked, turning his body to the side, brown eyes wondering what you’d have him do next. His hair fell in his face just right, staying out of his face enough to showcase the mole under his right eye, the look of wonder on his face nearly making you swoon.

Fuck he’s beautiful.

In that very moment, Hyunjin captured exactly what you wanted. His innocent eyes looked soft and gentle. He looked like the ultimate boyfriend material.

“What do I —”

“Don’t fucking move or I will end you.” You snapped.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, face burying in the blankets as he tried to compose himself. He turned his head to the side with a bright smile and —

SNAP!

That was the money shot. You wanted that shit framed in your bedroom. Or maybe not your bedroom. That would give you too much masturbation material.

Speaking of…

Hyunjin’s mere existence was turning you on, his naked body sending your emotions into overdrive as you tried to decipher what exactly you loved about the boy. Hyunjin’s cute little head tilt helped you realize that — wow, everything about Hyunjin turned you on. He was so cute and innocent and soft and that made you want to devour him.

Perhaps a quick bathroom session would take your mind off him long enough to finish the shoot? Or maybe...

No — you can’t ask the models to fuck you.

Unfortunately, your sex drive was at an all time high. It’s been a while since you’ve been dicked down.

You mentally kicked yourself. You are a photographer. Take the damn pictures.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to get a few sexier pictures of Hyunjin. “Ok, I need more intensity in your eyes.” You directed, looking forward to seeing what Hyunjin had to offer.

The boy closed his eyes, holding them shut for a couple seconds. You were a bit worried you offended him until he opened his eyes and JESUS. The sexy gleam in his eyes made you want to toss the camera on the table, strip down, and fuck him right there.

You snapped a few pictures of Hyunjin, shifting around the bed as his eyes followed the lens. “Go ahead and move your body.” You directed. “I want to see what’s comfortable for you.”

Hyunjin blushed a bit. He had never done anything like this before, so he wasn’t familiar with typical poses men should do during nude photoshoots. He opted for simple poses, laying on the bed, shooting sensual glances at the lens as you snapped pictures. He adjusted his position a few times, giving you various poses. Hyunjin played with his hands, positioning them across his body so it appeared as though he was feeling himself up.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched the boy adjust his positioning. Damn he was good at this. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” You smirked, snapping another picture.

Hyunjin chuckled before asking “Is this okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” You replied, snapping a few more pictures. “These are turning out great.”

Yes! Hyunjin mentally high-fived himself. You seemed impressed with his work, and he was excited to see what the photos looked like when you were done.

You snapped a few more excellent shots of Hyunjin before deciding to change the lighting to be a bit more sensual — as if that was going to help your problem.

You couldn’t help but notice your damp underwear, your arousal becoming more and more difficult to hide the longer you stared at Hyunjin’s body.

“Why don’t you take a break. I have to switch the lighting a bit.” You gestured towards the refreshments. “Feel free to wear your robe, so you don’t have to flash your goods around me 24/7. There’s also a plate with veggies and grapes and there’s a water jug…” You trailed off, feeling nervous, as if Hyunjin could tell what was going on in your panties. “But you have eyes, so you probably didn’t need me to rant about what’s there.”

Hyunjin laughed and slipped the robe over his shoulders. “Flash my goods?”

“Yeah. You look good, therefore, your nakedness equals your goods.” Your face flushed.

Why did you have to shoot your mouth?

Hyunjin chuckled and pulled the robe closed, tying the fabric together with the belt. As comfortable as he felt being nude under your gaze, being covered up was a nice break from having his dick out in front of you.

Hyunjin headed over to the refreshments, eyes scanning the various fruits and vegetables before he opted to snack on grapes.

“So.” Hyunjin popped a grape in his mouth, “What got you into photography?”

“I took a photography class in high school and I guess it just stuck. I used to take a ton of pictures of the kids playing sports. I volunteered to take pictures at every school event.” you smiled, unscrewing the bulbs in your lights and setting them on the table.

“That’s nice.” Hyunjin chuckled. “I wonder what it’s like being on the other end.”

Hyunjin always wanted to try photography, but he never invested in a camera. Sure he used his phone camera to take selfies, but he’s always wanted to try taking photos of another person. He wanted to capture the human body the way you did.

“It’s amazing. Do you want to try?” You gestured towards your camera, trying to convince him to test it out.

Hyunjin waved his hands in front of him. “Oh no! I don’t want to break it.” The last thing he wanted to do was break his favorite photographer’s camera.

“If you break it, I have 2 others in the cupboard charging.” You chuckled. “Come on, why don’t you give it a shot?” You thrust the camera into Hyunjin’s hands, giggling when he held onto it for dear life.

“You don’t have to worry so much.” You smiled softly.

“I don’t want to break it. This must be hundreds of dollars.” His knuckles were white as he clung to the camera, as if loosening his grip would cause the camera to disintegrate in his hands.

You couldn't help but laugh at the number he threw out. “Try thousands.”

Yep. That camera with the lens cost you a whopping 7 grand. But the camera took beautiful pictures which made the cost absolutely worth it.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened even more, if that was possible. He was holding one whole paycheck in his hands. Still… he was holding an incredible piece of equipment and he felt like he had to try it out.

Hyunjin glanced around, hoping to find a pretty flower to take a picture of, but he couldn’t figure out what to photograph. “What do I take a picture of? The studio?” He chuckled.

You paused what you were doing, turning around to shoot him a smile. “Take a picture of me.” You giggled when he flushed bright red, brown eyes avoiding your gaze as his brain processed what you were saying.

“I wouldn’t do you justice.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

It was your turn to flush red. Was that his way of calling you pretty? That’s kind of sweet.

“I don’t know how to pose you or anything.” Hyunjin smiled nervously.

Oh the poor thing. He didn’t realize that you knew how to pose yourself. You were a photographer after all. “Aww. Sweetheart. It’s okay I can take care of that myself.”

Suddenly an idea popped into your head. If you were going to get laid today, you had to be creative. So why not have Hyunjin take some Boudoir shots of you? It was the perfect chance to seduce him with your curves!

You reached over your head, pulling your T-shirt off, showing off the lacy bra hidden beneath the thin fabric. Hyunjin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched you unbutton your shorts, pulling the denim down your legs to show the matching pair of panties.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin stuttered, cheeks flushing red when his eyes raked over your body.

“Well.” You paused, wiggling your hips a bit as you stepped out of your shorts. “I figured, it’s only fair for you to take a few Boudoir shots of me, since I’ve seen you naked.”

Hyunjin’s tongue darted over his lower lip as his eyes ran over the dip of your hips. He longed to hold your hips in his hands while doing unspeakable things to you. But no — now’s not the time to be thinking of such things. He’s got a photoshoot to finish.

“You don’t have to. I don’t mind taking pictures of you… clothed…” He trailed off.

“It’s fine. I want to.” You draped yourself sensually over the bed, making sure to point your toes so you looked more elegant. “Now point and shoot.”

Hyunjin swallowed, before finding a spot beside the bed. How did you get such good pictures of other people? It was obvious that you didn’t just “point and shoot.” You played around with angles.

Hyunjin moved to the side of the bed, resting beside your head and angling the camera down to the foot of the bed. He captured a beautiful shot of your body — one that captured each and every curve you had to offer.

You smiled at him and shifted your body to look more innocent, widening your eyes as you looked into the lens.

Hyunjin snapped a few more pictures, before he noticed the blood rushing straight to his groin. Oh no… He was far too turned on to continue the photoshoot.

Panic bubbled in Hyunjin’s chest as he tried to think of ways to get rid of the raging boner underneath the robe. Sure, he could try and think of things like basketball or the news, but that wouldn’t get rid of his problem when his eyes were fixed on your breasts like a teenager hyped up on hormones.

No — he had to jerk this one out.

Hyunjin sat the camera on the table before attempting to scurry off to the bathroom.

“Do you want help with that?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks. Truth is, you noticed the raging boner underneath the robe long before he did.

What? Hyunjin looked down, cheeks turning bright red when he saw that the outline of his dick was very visible underneath the robe.

“I’m sorry. I’ll excuse myself.” Hyunjin’s voice shook as he turned to leave.

“Wait.” You called after him.

Hyunjin turned to look at you, guilt and shame evident in his eyes as he attempted to cover himself.

“I think it’s hot that you’re turned on my looking at me.” You confessed, stepping closer to the boy. “And if you’re okay with it, I’d love to be with you tonight.”

You normally wouldn’t have had the courage to say such things to a man, but you had a feeling about this one. You had this feeling that you and Hyunjin could be something special, but first, you’d have to put yourself out there.

Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of red. It felt like his head was spinning. Your confession made his heart bang against his ribcage so hard, he thought it would burst through. He wondered if you could hear his heart as it echoed in his ears.

He didn’t know why, but this felt right. “I’d like that too.” He confessed.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked, hoping he’d say yes.

“You can do more than kiss me.” His voice switched from being incredibly sweet and innocent, to being deep and sensual.

FUCK.

Okay — you weren’t expecting that.

You simply nodded before walking up to him, tentative hands running along his chest before sliding up to wrap around his neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked. “We have only known each other for a couple hours.”

He was right. It felt like you’ve known each other far longer. But it was clear he wanted this as much as you did.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” Your arms tightened around his neck, sighing happily when his hands rested on your hips.

“Let me know if you want to stop.”

As if?

You nodded before saying “Fuck me.”

Hyunjin moved forward, instantly taking control as he closed the distance between you, one hand moving to caress your cheek while the other rested on your hip. His soft lips pressed gently against yours and oh — his lips felt just as good as you imagined they would.

Your hands slid down his chest, parting the fabric of his robe so you could feel more of his velvety smooth skin against your fingertips. You wanted to feel him pressed against you, so bad that your body naturally rocked closer to his.

Hyunjin ran his tongue along your bottom lip, humming in approval when you easily parted your lips for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. His tongue ran along yours coaxing a moan from you.

Your soft moans sent the blood rushing to Hyunjin’s cock, making him want to tear your lingerie off and slide into you. But no — he’d wait to do that. He was going to take his time with you and appreciate every dip and curve your body had to offer.

Hyunjin’s hands ran along your back before his fingertips danced around the clasp of your bra. He parted from your lips, pressing soft kisses down your jawline as his fingers unclipped the garment. The flimsy fabric fell off your body easily, making you moan as Hyunjin tossed your bra in a random direction.

“Since I’ve been naked this whole time, I think it’s fair that you undress first.” Hyunjin’s velvety voice mixed with the playful gleam in his eye sent a wave of arousal through you, panties becoming wetter the more your eyes rested upon his heated gaze.

“I won’t complain as long as you hurry up when I’m done.” You giggled as you slowly pulled your underwear down your legs, smiling when Hyunjin’s tongue ran along his lower lip, biting the soft flesh gently.

He was eye-fucking you, and that was exactly where you wanted him.

Hyunjin closed his eyes, leaning his head back for a second before turning his gaze to your naked body. “Can I touch you?” He asked softly.

That’s funny. As if he hadn’t been touching you this whole time.

“Of course.” You smiled, bending your index finger in a ‘come hither’ motion.

Hyunjin closed the distance between you two, instantly falling to his knees before pulling your left knee over his shoulder. He pulled your body closer to his, the need to taste you on his tongue taking over his senses.

“Let me…” He trailed off as he panted, hot breath ghosting over your thigh. “I want to make you feel good.”

Wow. It’s not every day your dream boy practically begs to eat you out. How could you say no to that?

You nodded and shifted your body so you were closer to his face, giving him an excellent view of your soaked folds.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but lick his lips as he stared upon your glistening core. He wanted to know what you tasted like, but first… he wanted to have some fun with you.

Hyunjin’s lips pressed feathery kisses along your thighs, tongue darting out every now and again to taste your skin. He noticed the way your hips shifted closer to his face when he sucked a spot on your thigh, turning the skin purple before he moved on to dance around where you wanted him to touch most.

“Hyunjin please.” you moaned, shifting your hips closer to his face once more.

And like that, his tongue was buried in your folds, instantly making your knees go weak. You moaned loudly, fighting to stay standing as the boy slurped loudly, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

Your hands darted to his ebony locks, fingers tightening in his hair when he sucked your clit between his teeth, nibbling on the bud gently. The overwhelming pleasure would have sent you falling to the ground if it weren’t for Hyunjin’s hands keeping you steady.

“Fuck Hyunjin.” You moaned. “It’s so good.” One of your hands shifted to caress his cheek. “You’re so good.” You cried out as his eyes met yours, tongue rolling around your clit once more.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned loudly, legs shaking as standing became too difficult for you to do.

Hyunjin separated from your core with a pop. He quickly thrust your other knee over his shoulder, hands supporting your back as he lowered you onto the hardwood floor.

You gasped — partially because of the cold floor against your heated skin, partially because Hyunjin dove back into your folds, enclosing his lips around your clit and sucking harshly. It didn’t take long for Hyunjin to make you cum, the constant attention to your clit giving you the biggest orgasm you’ve had in your life. Your toes curled, back arching off the cold wooden floor as you hit your high, the overwhelming pleasure making your thighs shake around his head.

Your chest rose and fell with each breath as you panted on the ground. Your brows creased when you saw the robe still covering his perfect body. “I believe I told you to take that off.”

Hyunjin laughed, a bright smile taking over his features. “So bossy.” He slid the robe off his shoulders leaving his body bare to your eyes.

He looked just as beautiful as before, but even more so with a hard cock. Your mouth watered at the sight. You wanted — no needed — to have him in your mouth. You crawled over to him, gently taking his cock into your hands, pulling the foreskin as you pumped his length a couple times.

Hyunjin threw his head back, moaning at the much-needed friction. Although he was enjoying the feeling of you jacking him off, he really wanted to be inside you. “Please.” Hyunjin moaned, “I want to be inside you.”

“And you will be. But right now I want to suck your dick.” You silenced him by taking his cock as far down your throat as you could, tucking your thumb under your fingers to suppress your gag reflex.

The boy let out a loud, strangled moan as you sucked more of his length down your throat, nose almost pressing into his pubic bone. Damn that was hot. He’s never had a girl take him that far before. The feeling of your throat closing around him nearly made him cum instantly.

You were convinced there was nothing hotter than hearing Hyunjin’s moans while you deepthroat his cock. His quiet gasps and soft “oh my god” made you want to suck him dry. You pulled back, jerking him off a bit before sucking the tip back into your mouth.

Hyunjin bit his lip, a loud moan echoing through the room as you ran your tongue along the underside, tracing each vein with every pass of your tongue.

“Please.” He moaned. “Please let me.”

You pulled away, having way too much fun teasing the poor boy. “Let you what?” Your hand pumped him a couple more times making his body twitch.

“Let me fuck you.” He moaned at your touch. “I want to be inside you.”

“Why?” You questioned. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you think I’m bad at sucking dick.”

“That’s not it at all.” He quickly reassured you. “I just really want to be inside you.” He paused. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his neediness. “Ok, but let’s go to the bed so we aren’t fucking on the floor like animals.”

Hyunjin laughed and lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist, lips quickly connecting with yours as he walked the two of you over to the bed in the studio.

You broke the kiss mumbling a quick, “fuck that was hot,” before connecting your lips once more.

At that very moment, Hyunjin couldn’t help himself. He quickly slid into you, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your walls tightened around him. “You feel so good.” His head nuzzled into your neck, the intimate position making your heart flutter as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Hyunjin set a slow pace, lips pressing against yours softly so he could make the moment last. You looked into his eyes at the same time he looked into yours and — oh this was starting to look like one of those romance movies. The way his hips rocked against yours, the way one of his hands caressed your cheek — you were positive that you were in love with him.

How could you be in love with a man you just met?

You couldn’t seem to find the answer as Hyunjin rocked his hips faster, dragging his lower body against yours so he would rub against your clit. You couldn’t help the moans escaping your lips, his name at the tip of your tongue as if your mind was purely filled with Hyunjin.

That wasn’t far from the truth. You waited so long to have him inside you and here you are, body pressed against his, tongue sliding against his as he thrusted deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m close.” you moaned, hands wrapping around his lower back.

“Me too.” Hyunjin grunted, eyes squeezing shut as he moved faster, hips stuttering as he tried to bring you closer to your high. He tried so hard to hold out — to get you to cum with him, but he couldn’t chance releasing inside you without knowing whether or not you were on the pill.

Hyunjin quickly pulled out, deep moans escaping his lips as he stroked himself through his orgasm. He came on your stomach, exhaustion hitting him almost immediately as he came down from his high.

You hummed in approval, stroking his thigh as he basked in the afterglow, though you were a bit disappointed in your now-fading orgasm. Oh well, at least you got to cum with his amazing tongue.

Hyunjin noticed your fading orgasm, and he was quick to act, adjusting his position so he could devour your folds. His fingers drove into your core, curling upward so he would hit your g-spot with each thrust. The surprising pleasure almost immediately made you cum, hands fisting the sheets, looking for something to help bring you down to earth.

One last suck and you were gone, crying out his name and a string of curse words as you came for the second time that night.

Hyunjin licked his lips as he sat up, admiring your still-panting frame. God you looked beautiful like this — eyes drifting shut as exhaustion hit you, chest rising and falling with each breath, his cum coating your stomach — you looked divine.

Speaking of cum…

Hyunjin stood up and walked over to the refreshment area, grabbing a handful of paper towels before heading back to the bed. He wiped the cum off your stomach, giggling when you twitched at his touch.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You panted, curling up under the blankets.

“Of course I did.” Hyunjin smiled. He never wanted to leave a girl hanging. Especially you.

“Are you going to stay the night?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes.

Although you wanted to fuck the boy, you also wanted the soft cuddle time that you assumed would come after. You wanted to hold him close until you both drifted off to sleep. You wanted to take him to breakfast in the morning and go on dates and kiss him daily and — oh shit… you wanted a relationship with him.

Your heart dropped as you waited for an answer. You shouldn’t have done this. Now you’re overly attached to the boy and you’ll have to deal with the rejection that comes after, what was supposed to be, a one-night stand.

“That depends.” Hyunjin answered, pausing a second as he pretended to think it through.

Of course he was planning to stay the night. He just had the best sex he’s ever had in his life. He wasn’t planning on letting you go. “Will you still love me in the morning?”

“Who said I love you now?” You flushed, smacking his arm lightly.

“Alright then I’ll go.” Hyunjin sat up and swung his feet off the edge of the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. Perhaps this really was just a fling to you?

You panicked, seeing your potential relationship being washed down the drain at your own stupidity. “No please don’t go.” You embraced him from behind. “I will. I want to get to know you better. I want to take you out and kiss you every morning and do couple shit. Just don’t leave me.” You tightened your arms around his torso. “I promise I’ll love you in the morning. As long as you’ll still love me?”

You instantly regretted your words as Hyunjin’s body went stiff. Maybe he was kidding? Perhaps it was a figure of speech? Maybe he didn’t feel the same.

“Nevermind.” You laid back in bed, turning your back to the boy as you tried to stop the frantic beating of your heart and the painful fear of rejection in your head.

You felt Hyunjin’s arms wrap around you before feeling him pull your body flush against his.

“Of course I’ll love you in the morning.”

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uwunnie · 4 years

Text

Hello, everyone.

To recap: There are new fans, and old fans as well as recently turned fans, who truly believe you have to choose Monsta X or Wonho otherwise you’re not a “real” fan. It has reached a point where toxic idiocy is spewed all over Twitter — not really that surprising, but still very annoying — and it has now reached Tumblr; the one place I felt was pretty neutral.

Initially, I wasn’t going to say anything because I felt like it’d only add to the drama. However, as time passes, I see the fandom heading into a direction that is very...well, doomed. Of course, this is merely my opinion and I don’t really expect anyone to hold it to a high regard because I am not God, nor do I believe I am a God-like figure. However, I do think I can still state my opinion upon the matter and try to shed some knowledge that may be utilized positively.

Before I begin, I’m going to try and insert a ‘Read More,’ but should I not be able to make it to a laptop in time before my patience completely disappears, I will tw it as a “long post.” If you dislike long posts and don’t have them filtered, though, and this pops up on your dash and annoys you — I apologize, kinda.

Anyways, let’s go.

—

I don’t really know what happened. Or well, I do, unfortunately.

In the beginning, Monbebes stuck together. We all came together and showed our support as a united body of like-minded individuals who shared their love and support for Monsta X — whether they were seven or individual.

Things went well. Petitions were signed. Billboards were funded. Zoo’s were created.

But at some point, Monbebes began idolizing other Monbebes — and I don’t mean looking up to sensible fans, but ones who are problematic.

Allow to me to repeat this to avoid misunderstandings: It’s okay to look up to fans who are NOT problematic. It really is — be friends with them, aspire to be more like them, I don’t care; do you so long as it’s positive.

But....but....to choose problematic fans to look up to? To choose ones who are known to fetishize a culture? To choose ones who are known, and praised, to fetishize sexualities? To choose ones who provide false hope in exchange for clout while simultaneously invading REAL people’s lives?

Yeah, that’s where everything went wrong.

The wrong people built platforms and their voices were, inevitably, elevated. Everyone began dividing and forming cliques in the name of “unity.” Everyone began losing sight of the big picture — the big picture being a positive resolution.

People stated they wanted a positive outcome, but only if it was on their terms.

Greed. Greed. Greed.

Selfishness replaced selflessness.

Various Monbebes began inserting themselves into the narrative as if it was their own personal emotions that mattered more than Monsta X’s — and that’s not to devalue anyone’s feelings, but I mean...it’s the boys who were directly affected by what happened.

Wonho was the one who had to receive backlash for past events that don’t equate his worth.

Shownu’s voice was silenced despite being a victim to sexually implicit lies and harassment.

Minhyuk sacrificed his own emotions and began keeping hardships to himself.

Kihyun was forced into voicing over his friend’s song lyrics, and is also continually made fun of despite him speaking out and asking fans to not refer to him as “small” and “tiny.”

Hyungwon received, and continues to bear, backlash because certain fans think he’s a liar and also like to criticize him for being “lazy” as if the dude doesn’t work his ass off every day.

Jooheon’s mental health issues were pushed under the rug by many people within the fandom and as soon as he returned, various fans demanded he work more — try harder, be louder and more energetic.

Changkyun’s emotions were disregarded — many fans stating he has an “attitude problem” and seems cold despite the dude literally trying to make everyone around him happy and also sticking up for Monbebes.

Monsta X, regardless of the number, were all continuously pushed past their limits; treated as machines and play-things rather than human beings.

And this is only what has been shown to us. Think about everything that’s transpired that we haven’t seen.

—

I understand that those months were hard, I really do. I was right there with everyone not getting any sleep and trying to balance school, work, projects, etc. I understand it was very emotionally upsetting and I am not devaluing anyone’s feelings because I know it was hard.

But a line has to be drawn.

There has to be a realization that it is Monsta X who has endured the worst of the entire situation. It is not fair to say that the fans had it worse when MX’s actual jobs, lives, health, and futures were all tampered with, endangered, and victimized.

And to top it off — as positive of a resolution that could be made in the situation has been met and people continue to complain.

I understand it may not be ideal — everyone wanted them to come together as seven again and I know how disheartening it is that that isn’t an option right now, but...they’re still here.

Wonho get’s to continue with his career. He can still interact and talk to us. He can do what he wants — I mean, the dude literally has a whole Instagram account to himself when it took a year or two, maybe more, just for SSE to give MX personal cell phones.

The six active members get to continue as well. They released an album that is more than likely going to be nominated for a golden disc award and they’re all, seemingly, recovering. They’ve been able to vacation and from the looks of it, the company is going a little easier on them with their schedules — in a way.

In other words: All seven of them are content.

And for the fandom, we still get to see them. We get to listen to their voices and see their faces. We get to interact with them and watch new shows, etc.

They’re still here — and honestly? It’s a miracle.

Do you know how hard it is for a people to continue considering what transpired? How unusual it is for an artist to be able to overcome legal battles that usually deem unfavorable in the position he was in?

I’ve been in the Kpop fandom for nearly 12 or 13 years now and this is the first time I’ve ever seen legal cases turn out okay for an idol.

History was made and a positive resolution was met, but yet — hardly anyone wants to celebrate.

Instead, a big chunk of the fandom now wants to dive into more drama — separate Monbebes and Wenees from each other and build more cliques.

Say stupid shit like “you’re not a real fan if you only support Monsta X” and “you’re not a real fan if you only support Wonho.”

“Wenees are superior.”

“Monbebes are superior.”

“Wenees love Wonho!”

“Monbebes love Monsta X, and Monsta X only!”

“Let’s listen to boycottbebes!”

“Let’s listen to problematic tarotbebes!”

“Let’s listen to akgaes!”

Just...shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up.

—

I hate to break it to everyone who believes the quotes above, but we are all the same.

Monbebes are Wenees, and Wenees are Monbebes.

There is no competition.

There is no Monsta X without Hoseok, and there is no Hoseok without Monsta X.

—

You cannot hate the root and only love the flower just like you cannot hate the flower and be fascinated by its roots. In the same regard, a leaf cannot hate another upon the stem because to do so would be the leaf despising itself.

—

TL;DR: Stop the fan wars before you ruin damn near six years of love and (relatively abundant) peace.

#i have said my peace #tw: long post

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sweetjekyll · 3 years

Text

Writerly contemplation tag!

tagged by the lovely @j-pping; thank you for the tag!

this might end up being long so I’ll add a read more cut ☺️

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

I guess the most challenging part of writing this year was tuning out the real world. I’ve always used reading and writing as a form of coping and escapism from all the things that were troubling me. Unfortunately there were times when simply reading and writing weren’t helping me and I took so many breaks, postponed so many WIPs I was excited about... I ended up beating myself down for not being able to keep up with an expectation I had for myself and my writing. Considering 2020 was hell for everyone, I came to terms with myself that it cannot be always my fault, I can’t blame myself for not being able to do things I set my mind to do, sometimes there are obstacles that take time for you to cross.

I’m just going to quickly mention stressful anons and hopefully get a point across for all fan fictions writers. WE ARE NOT ROBOTS. WE ARE HUMAN. All of us write for many personal reasons, mine are that I just love writing things which I wish to read! Simple as that. What I wish for some rude people to understand is that the least you could do for us creators is be thankful and be kind to us, give feedback and constructive criticism, share our work. I don’t understand why you are scared of the reblog button. When I go through my notes and take a look at some blogs, they are empty. No one is paying us to contribute creatively to the fandom, you are enjoying our content for free while we put hard work and our free time into it, so why should we “hurry up”, “update faster” and “write more/this/that”? Please, remember that we are people too, and the toxicity some people spread on anonymous asks is just incredibly baffling and hurtful to me. If you, as a reader, believe that my request is nonsense and my words are too harsh, then perhaps you should reconsider how you’re viewing content creators before disagreeing without a valid reason.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

The happiness that came from writing something which I enjoyed reading as well! I have been a writer for years on another platform until I had to take a long hiatus because of writer’s block and depression. For how cheesy this may sound, the most enjoyable and rewarding part of writing is in fact writing something that makes me happy even if I’m torturing my characters and traumatizing them. There is truly no point for me to write things that I don’t feel I am enjoying. As I have said other times before on the blog, I would much rather post something that makes me happy, than post something just to get notes from silent readers.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

Given the fact that I have not written a lot because of my constant mental health breaks (yes 2020 had me on rollercoaster mental breakdowns more often than usual), I have to say that Damaged is what really kept me entertained with myself and perhaps sane. It has been way too long since I’ve taken on something so creative as building an entire universe from just a dream, but it’s what reminded me why I love writing so much, it reignited my passion. With this story I really wanted to challenge myself to write something unique, something I’ve never done before with any other work... And I admit it’s quite difficult; the easiest part was taking inspiration from EXO’s lore, but the hardest was incorporating it in a universe and storyline completely different to the original concept. It’s something I’m set on finishing as a complete multi-chapter story no matter how long it takes.

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

To be completely honest, I learned that I can push myself out of my comfort zone when writing, because every piece is a fictional world of its own, every character can be more than a copy and paste personality. What do I truly learn about myself if I don’t explore things I have not thought about before? I learned that I should not be afraid to write of things that I don’t know or fully understand, specifically about things that I didn’t post but tried for just for fun. It is a good way of finding out whether a certain subjects interests me or doesn’t. I love doing lots of research and gather information for the stories I’m writing, you get to learn about stuff you usually would never think about.

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

Well, I don’t really have anything to compare my writing to except my older fan fictions for movies and tv shows. I guess I have changed quite a lot since 2018; my writing style has become more fluid, at least I think it has. I’m also able to write longer chapters without feeling as if I am dragging it out for the sake of the word count, yet now I have to literally stop myself from just writing too much! It pleases me, to be honest. I remember struggling to sometimes put ideas into words and balance narrative, dialogue and descriptions.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

This can go back to Damaged, honestly! It’s something that I haven’t finished writing and it will be a long story. It’s the fan fiction which has gotten me out of a 2-year-long writer’s block with such strength, I feel truly attached to it. As I mentioned in one of my first answers for 2020, this is the WIP I want to focus on the most and be proud of it.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

I mentioned this is my first 2021 post after I took a short break, but one of my resolutions for this year is to work on self acceptance when it comes to my projects. (I’ll copy and paste what I wrote there so I don’t repeat myself with other words) One of my resolutions for 2021 is to write more, to not be afraid of beginning something and even if I end up setting the story aside, at least I will have gotten it out on (digital) paper. I punish myself way too much when I’m not able to finish something, and that is truly one of the worst things a content creators can go through, in my opinion. I have many drafted works that may or may never be published and I wish to appreciate them more instead of dwelling on the fact of what they could have been.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

I wish for more love and recognition of the amazing and talented writers that share their content with everyone on tumblr. We are a community, or at least we are supposed to be. I would absolutely love to see more readers actively interacting with writers, share ideas, share art inspired by what you read! As readers, you can contribute as well by sharing moodboards, song recommendations and/or playlists! You are more than welcome to join us in the community as writers too!

As for myself, I have mentioned this towards last year but I still want to compile a list of all the writers I am currently following and read their works. I haven’t been in a good mindset to do that for a long time and I wish to get to know them. I’m a pretty shy person who struggles to start up a conversation, so I hope I get to make some friends on tumblr this year!

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

I would like to make a list of aus and experiment with them for either one shots or some short series! I have so many creative ideas and thoughts but I always forget to take a note or maybe I’m doing something else and I end up getting caught up in a stream of consciousness, until I lose the initial spark. Also mentioned plenty of times, I would love to write for other groups, like nct, but for now I’ll focus on exo.

✨✨✨

anyway, that was it for my writerly contemplation tag!

I’m tagging a few fellow writers, but feel free to ignore for any reason! sorry if I forgot someone but feel free to do this even if I didn’t tag you!! @pororodks @velvetsehun @yeoldontknow @yeagerluvr @soos-goddess @shaalk @mooneylooney1 @dewbebe

#tag games #writerly contemplation #happy new year btw!!!

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anotherkpopvictim · 3 years

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Into a New World (Through the Gate) - BTS OT7 Fantasy Story Chapter 1

(Pic Source - Jaiho? (I found this on a pinterest but I don’t think it was this person’s) ((Edit is by me tho))

A/N: Hi, so, this is a multi-chaptered story that I’ve had swirling around in my head for a while. I’m not sure how many chapters it’s going to be, and I’m not sure how often I’ll update (especially because I have a few other stories I need to update first) but I will finish this story one way or another.

Happy Birthday, our Hobi <3

Relationship: BTS X BTS

Rating: T (for now)

Words: 2928

Hurt/comfort, fluff, fantasy

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Chapter 1: The Banishing

Worldbuilding Notes on Fairies:

The origin of how fairies came to be is rather unknown. Their attributes and used honorifics suggest they are of Korean descent.

Fairies can be creatures of trickery. Though not inherently evil, fairies possess the ability to manipulate easily if they so please (not all use this ability, though). While they can also sometimes use aura reading to detect whether someone is lying or not, a fairy’s downfall is that they themselves cannot lie. Despite this, they are talented at twisting words and finding loopholes in different situations.

A Fairy’s magic ability is similar to that of witches, but it is easier for them to learn as they are born with a close connection to magic itself, while witches spend years and years learning to connect with magic. Fairies are often good spies as they have their smaller form that can easily hide. Fairies are born with a given color - the color of their hair and eyes. These colors represent common personality traits (though not always 100% accurate from person to person, and not all fairies have all the traits the colors represent). A mix of two or more colors just means that the person has personality traits of multiple colors (i.e. a very dark blue would have traits of both blue and black).

(Link to the basis of color symbolism I’m using - https://www.color-meanings.com/)

Colors and their meanings:

(This part is optional to read, but I will be using this as a basis for fairy personalities in the story)

Red - The color of passion and energy. Red draws attention like no other color and radiates a strong and powerful energy that motivates us to take action. It is also linked to sexuality and stimulates deep and intimate passion.

Orange - The color of enthusiasm and emotion. Orange exudes warmth and joy and is considered a fun color that provides emotional strength. It is optimistic and uplifting, adds spontaneity and positivity to life, and encourages social communication and creativity. It is a youthful and energetic color.

Yellow - The color of happiness and optimism. Yellow is a cheerful and energetic color that brings fun and joy to the world. It makes learning easier as it affects the logical part of the brain, stimulating mentality and perception. It inspires thought and curiosity and boosts enthusiasm and confidence.

Green - The color of harmony and health. Green is a generous, relaxing color that revitalizes our body and mind. It balances our emotions and leaves us feeling safe and secure. It also gives us hope, with promises of growth and prosperity, and it provides a little bit of luck to help us along the way.

Blue - The color of trust and loyalty. Blue has a calming and relaxing effect on our psyche, that gives us peace and makes us feel confident and secure. It dislikes confrontation and too much attention, but it is an honest, reliable, and responsible color and you can always count on its support.

Purple - The color of spirituality and imagination. Purple inspires us to divulge our innermost thoughts, which enlightens us with the wisdom of who we are and encourages spiritual growth. It is often associated with royalty and luxury, and its mystery and magic sparks creative fantasies.

Pink - The color of love and compassion. Pink is kind and comforting, full of sympathy and compassion, and makes us feel accepted. Its friendly, playful spirit calms and nurtures us, bringing joy and warmth into our lives. Pink is also a feminine and intuitive color that is bursting with pure romance.

White - The color of purity and innocence. White is a true balance of all colors and is associated with cleanliness, simplicity, and perfection. It loves to make others feel good and provides hope and clarity by refreshing and purifying the mind. It also promotes open-mindedness and self-reflection.

Black - The color of power and sophistication. Black is an incredibly strong and intimidating color that exudes authority and makes us feel secure and protected. Often seen at formal and prestigious events, this mysterious marvel arouses and seduces our senses with its elegance and sexiness.

Gray - The color of compromise and control. Gray is neutral, conservative, and unemotional. It is practically solid as a rock, making it incredibly stable, reliable, and calming. It has a peaceful, relaxing and soothing presence. Gray avoids attention but offers mature, insightful advice to anyone who asks.

Brown - The color of stability and reliability. Brown is dependable and comforting. A great counselor and friend full of wisdom. You can count on its help if you need an honest opinion, support, and protection. It stabilizes us, helps us stay grounded, and inspires us to appreciate the simple things in life.

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Hoseok listened to his older brother babble on to the other five high council members, trying to manifest the courage to speak up to him about what had been weighing him down since the last meeting.

Minseok, his brother, was not a bad person. However, he also wasn’t necessarily a good person either. As the crowned King of the Fairy Kingdom of Aurora, he wasn’t the worst candidate in their long history, not by a long shot. Hoseok had watched him exile a butler after he brought him an indigo-colored robe instead of a dark purple one by accident, but had also seen him send fresh-baked loaves of bread to the orphanage nearby as a treat for the children. He was a man capable of coming up with creative solutions but sometimes allowed his power and authority to cloud his judgment.

An enigma, his brother most certainly was.

This was why Hoseok was so nervous to bring up the topic on his mind. He wasn’t sure how Minseok was going to react, though no one ever really knew. Nevertheless, he needed to give it a try, for the good of their people.

“King Minseok,” Hoseok addressed, standing up from his seat when a lull came in the conversation. He bowed politely towards his brother. “There is a concern of mine that I needed to bring up, brother.”

The older man with a head full of shocking dark purple hair and eyes the same color looked at him curiously. “Yes, Hoseok-ah. What is the matter, brother?”

Hoseok gulped against the lump forming in his throat and forced himself to speak. His brother was being kind right now, but he knew the man could turn on a dime. “The army, brother. They have been urging us for some time now to give the soldiers more time before sending them to war.”

Minseok raised an eyebrow, “We have an alliance with the jinns, a promise to fight with them against the demons.”

“I know, my King,” Hoseok replied. “But our soldiers are being slaughtered on the battlefield. If we could change the laws in place and give them a few more months of training to build up their skills-”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should spend more money and time on our soldiers when the war they are fighting isn’t to be a long one?” The King asked, interrupting Hoseok’s words.

It was predicted that the jinns were going to win the war with the demons, though it was a slow process. “We’ve lost thousands of our citizens, Minseok-hyung.” Hoseok urged. “Lives were lost when they could have lived if only they had more skills and endurance. The captains have been coming to us since they realized the pattern months ago.”

Minseok furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. “We already give so many resources to the military, we don’t have anything to spare.”

“We’ll find some, we’ll find a way-”

“ENOUGH!” Minseok boomed, standing up from the throne and slamming his hands down on the table. “The way the laws are written right now give our soldiers plenty of time to refine their skills before they are sent off to fight. More soldiers come back than don’t and that’s more than we could ask for. I will not spend another second on this unimportant topic when there are other issues to be resolved.”

“But, hyung,” Hoseok pleaded. He knew he should just shut up, but the worried words of the captains wouldn’t leave his mind. “Perhaps you could just allow some of the captains to tell you their worries personally. I really think that we need to-”

Minseok’s dark purple hair began to lift around his golden crown, glowing and sparking with magic. That was when Hoseok knew it was over for him.

“Hoseok-ssi, you know better than to talk back to your King!” his brother hissed.

“Hyung, my King, I’m sorry-”

“You’re banished!”

Hoseok nearly choked. “W-What?”

“I’m banishing you from Aurora. How dare you rebel against the King!” Minseok raged, motioning for guards to grab onto Hoseok.

Hoseok could see the anger in his brother’s eyes, the betrayal, and knew that there was no changing the crazed, overdramatic sentence given to him.

“Minseok,” Hoseok looked at his brother with one final plea, “Please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

Minseok snarled, his bright purple hair starting to glow and move as his power began to build up inside of him. “You’ve betrayed the crown. You’ve betrayed me. There is no place in Aurora for you any longer.”

Hoseok bent his head, knowing that his brother had truly made his decision and nothing he could say would change his mind. His own shocking orange hair lay flat against his head, no spark of power anywhere to be found - a sure sign of any fairy’s defeat.

The five councilmen who were occupying the table with the two brothers sat in silence, eyes sympathetic as they watched Hoseok being escorted out of the room.

There were ten guards that led them towards the Gate that was situated just outside the castle walls, two of them holding onto Hoseok’s arms like he was going to even try to get away. He knew better than that.

A misty, swirling wall of fog lay just behind the golden bars of the Gate. Hoseok could only watch with a defeated look in his eyes as his brother opened the right door of the Gate and then turned to look at him.

“Jung Hoseok, you are hereby banished from Aurora under my authority, King Minseok of the Fairy Kingdom. Shall you ever choose to return, you will be greeted with death.” Minseok snarled out his brother’s sentence with such malice it made Hoseok cringe. Then the King turned to the two guards holding Hoseok’s arms and ordered, “Throw him through the Gate.”

Hoseok, whose heart was racing with fear in his chest, didn’t fight the two men at all. As he was forced forward, he shut his eyes tightly and braced himself. He merely accepted his fate as he was pushed harshly into the swirling fog.

Now, Hoseok had never traveled worlds before, so he hadn’t ever experienced what it was like to go through a Gate before.

At first, it felt as if he was falling at a great speed, the breath snatched from his lungs. Then, he suddenly felt himself slow down before dropping onto some sort of hard surface.

Laying on the ground, Hoseok was reluctant to open his eyes. He knew that he must be on Earth now, as Earth was the center of the worlds, but he didn’t know exactly where. He couldn’t hear much besides the ruffling of some leaves in the breeze and birds chirping happily. The temperature was slightly cooler than he was used to, and his attire of matching silk shorts and a shirt certainly didn’t do anything to keep him warm.

Taking in a brave breath, Hoseok opened his eyes and took in the scene before him. He was in a forest lush with tall, green trees. Pretty blue flowers bloomed in patches on the ground, bringing Hoseok a bit of relief. Surely the place couldn’t be too bad if there were beautiful flowers blooming, right?

From Hoseok’s limited knowledge of Earth, he knew that it was the center of the realms and welcomed those of all supernatural backgrounds. While most supernatural beings had their own realm to call home, there were a few that didn’t. Vampires, shapeshifters, and witches lived primarily on Earth. Creatures like jinns, goblins, demons, and yes, fairies, all had their own realm.

Gates only existed between Earth and these worlds, but they were plentiful all across the Earth. Most Gates were situated in Gate Stations (just like a train station) but there were some that were simply situated in the middle of nowhere.

Of course, it appeared that Minseok had to make things even more difficult for his brother by sending him somewhere obscure. Hoseok hadn’t had the chance to see exactly where he was sending him to. A childish move on the older man’s part.

“Well, gosh marbles!” Hoseok shouted into the trees as he stood up and dusted himself off. “What am I going to do now?”

Where was he to go? What was he to do? The Fairy Kingdom was all he had known his whole life.

“E-Excuse me?”

Hoseok yelped with a start at the sudden voice, his head whipping around to find the source. He caught sight of a young-looking man peeking out from behind one of the trees to his left. He had big, curious doe eyes and didn’t appear to be much of a threat, but Hoseok knew from experience not to let his guard down.

“W-Who are you?” he asked, kicking himself when he stuttered.

The young man came out from behind the tree, revealing his all-black ensemble; jeans, a leather jacket, and some army boots. Hoseok remembered reading that fashion was quite different on Earth, but he was still surprised. “I’m Jungkook. Who are you?”

(JKs look) (except no beanie)

“Hoseok,” he replied cautiously.

“Did you just come through the Gate?” Jungkook asked, head tilting towards said Gate right behind Hoseok.

“Yes.”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully. “No one’s come through that Gate in years.”

“Oh...” Hoseok said intelligently. “Um, could you perhaps tell me where I am?”

“Well, I would assume you at least know that you’re on Earth, but more specifically, you’re just outside of Seoul, South Korea.”

“South Korea...” Hoseok repeated, wracking his brain for anything he knew about this place. He knew that he’d heard of it, but he wasn’t sure where from.

“You’re a fairy, right?” Jungkook asked, rather excitedly. “Many fairies seem to have Korean in their blood. So technically, you’re in your ancient homeland!”

Ah, Hoseok thought, that makes sense. Fairies were rather sheltered about things outside of their own Kingdom, so while Hoseok had heard that they were possibly descendants of Earth’s South Korea, he didn’t know much about it at all.

Hoseok blinked at the smiling young man before him, whose grin and scrunched-up nose made him look uncannily like a rabbit, not to mention his adorable front teeth.

“Ah, sorry!” Jungkook turned a little sheepish. “Ever since my Jimin-hyung came, I’ve really wanted to meet another fairy so badly!”

Hoseok didn’t have time to register that apparently, South Koreans used the same honorifics as fairies, as the more important part of the young man’s statement caught Hoseok’s attention. “You know another fairy?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook nodded his head dutifully, his shaggy dark brown hair bobbing up and down with it. “Jiminie’s color is pink. And he lives with us.”

“Us?”

“Me and my hyungs! There are six of us. We live just a couple miles away from here.” Jungkook answered with a fond smile.

“A pack, huh?” Hoseok gave the young man a once-over when he realized he had no idea what creature Jungkook was. “Are you...human?”

Jungkook shook his head before opening his mouth and pointing at some very tiny but pointy incisors that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I’m a vampire, like my Yoongi-hyung. I was obviously a human, though, before he saved me.” Jungkook’s smile faded a bit as he seemed to get lost in a memory.

“A little vamp, I see,” Hoseok replied, feeling like he needed to lighten the mood. “How old are you?”

“I’ve been a vampire for seven years, and I was twenty-three when I was turned.” A pretty young vampire then. Hoseok had read about vampires who lived to be thousands of years old.

“Well,” Hoseok began with a gentle smile, “I’m one hundred thirty-eight, so I guess that makes me your hyung.”

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I don’t like being a hyung.”

Hoseok chuckled at the younger’s adorableness before he remembered where he was and what had conspired for him to be here.

Jungkook must have noticed his expression sadden because he gave a little gasp. “Hoseok-hyung, do you need somewhere to stay? I’m sure my hyungs wouldn’t mind housing you for now.”

Hoseok honestly questioned the young man. Who in their right mind invited a total stranger into their home? Jungkook the baby vampire, apparently. Hoseok doubted that he had any nefarious ulterior motives for inviting him, as fairies were fairly good at reading others and he didn’t sense anything from him, but it was strange nonetheless.

However, Hoseok really didn’t have anywhere to go or any money to get a place to stay. He’d been thrown out of the only world he’s ever known and didn’t know what he was supposed to do. And he was tired, just plain tired from the eventful day.

So, he gave the only answer he really could.

“I would love a place to stay, Jungkook-ah.”

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A/N: So...what did you think?

I’ve never written anything in the fantasy genre but I’ve been loving so many fantasy fics lately that I just had to take a try at it. I don’t know much about the specifics of the different supernatural creatures in legends and such, so these will mostly be of my own making, but with some common traits you probably know.

Please do not expect me to update this for a while, as I need to update a few other stories first, but I will not abandon this fic.

I tried to make it clear that Hoseok’s brother, Minseok, has an unstable mentality, and thus feeling like his brother betrayed him over something rather ridiculous and banishing him seemed reasonable to him.

Please leave comments and likes as they fuel my motivation to write exponentially <3 And if you have any suggestions now or in future chapters for what you would like to see, I would love the ideas and will try to work them into the story (though I don’t have much solidly planned just yet anyways).

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So far we know:

Seokjin - ?

Yoongi - Vampire

Hoseok - Fairy (138)

Namjoon - ?

Jimin - Fairy

Taehyung - ?

Jungkook - Vampire (30)

(I think you’ll meet the others in the next chapter!)

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olicitysecretsanta · 4 years

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Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess.

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow.

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List.

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze.

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm.

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her.

Huli jing.

His anonymous hacker ally.

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean.

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word.

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island.

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note.

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all.

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked.

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support.

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support.

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?”

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him.

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before.

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes.

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible.

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence.

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him.

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false.

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s.

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure.

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit.

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him.

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help.

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?”

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently.

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.”

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.”

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond.

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped.

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them.

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret.

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.”

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him. He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb.

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing.

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response.

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was.

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not.

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes.

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that.

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected.

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists.

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife.

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced.

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought. She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation.

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious, strategic manner that he was unused to in other people.

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing.

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak.

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer.

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her.

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.”

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed.

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind.

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder.

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place.

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him.

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her. He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability.

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too.

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water.

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick.

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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1dfangirls35 · 4 years

Text

Voir Dire- N.H

A fake dating AU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love.

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

thirteen

There are certain phone calls you don't want to receive in your life. For some, it's the dreaded voice of a telemarketer asking you to buy their product. For others, it's the 2 am phone call from their ex who is plastered at the bar. For Niall, it was the angry voice of Mike, his agent, asking who on earth the girl was he was papped with the night before.

"Wait what?" Niall asked, his mind trying to comprehend the endless attack of words coming at him from the other side of the phone. He's not sure he's ever heard this kind of anger leave his agent's mouth before.

"The girl. Who is she Niall?"

Niall was silent for a moment. Who was Kelsey? Who should he say she is? Would it be better to come clean? Explain that this was a girl that he was developing feelings for and that this relationship was far more real than anything the PR team could have written up? Or should he write Kelsey off as a nobody and hope that the team puts it to rest?

"She's..."

"She's not your girlfriend, Niall," Mike interrupted before Niall had a chance to say otherwise. "Michaels wants to meet with you. 1pm. If I were you I'd come bearing an apologetic face and some sort of solution to this PR nightmare." And with that, the phone call ended.

Niall slammed his phone down on his crisp white bedspread with a thud. Then he sat down, setting his head in his hands. This was the worst case scenario. This was exactly the situation that he had been trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Kelsey asked, entering the room from her shower with a towel wrapped around her torso and her wet hair forming a small puddle on the floor. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen a face like this on Niall before, this look of fear. Almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

Niall pondered whether or not he should bring Kelsey into this. It wasn't her fault that they were caught by a camera or that they'd even been in that situation in the first place. If he leaves her out of it, he can be in and out of a meeting with Alan Michaels at Capitol without her being any the wiser. Taking that route keeps Kelsey from having to worry, or worse feeling guilty for going out to dinner in the first place.

But then a different thought crosses his mind. Maybe this wasn't a problem at all. Maybe this was an opportunity. Maybe this was just what they needed to have a shot at a real relationship, the kind that didn't involve baseball caps and restaurant back rooms and sneaking around as not to be spotted.

"It appears that our outing last night was not quite as stealthy as we had hoped," Niall admitted, eyeing Kelsey carefully to gauge her reaction.

Kelsey felt her stomach drop. Last night had been perfect. It had been the first time that she truly felt like what she and Niall had wasn't just some hidden behind-the-scenes love affair. It felt like a normal date. The things a normal couple would do. And now, the thing that Niall had feared the most had come true.

This was all her fault, if she hadn't pushed Niall. If she hadn't been so insecure about the standing of their relationship they never would have been put in this situation.

"Don't you dare start thinking this is your fault," Niall seemingly read Kelsey's mind. He comes over where she is standing, grabbing her hands and squeezing them between his.

"I..." Kelsey began to argue back but then realized that was exactly what she was thinking. "Well, What are you going to do?"

"I think that maybe..." Niall paused, hardly believing he was about to say the words aloud. "I think maybe we tell them about us."

"What?" Kelsey exclaimed. "Are you crazy?!" She couldn't believe that Niall was even considering the idea, especially with how he'd described the label's representatives so far.

"Maybe a little bit," Niall laughed nervously. "But if you think about it, what did they hire Krystal for in the first place? They hired her to show that I was in love. That my new album wasn't all heartbreak and loneliness. So what difference does it make if I'm in a relationship with a hired actress or someone that I'm actually interested in? In fact, I would argue that if we used our relationship instead, it would be more authentic and better for the image in the long run."

"I think you are overlooking one minor detail Niall," Kelsey said, taking a seat on the bed. She didn't want to get her hopes up. Sure, she'd love to be seen out in public with Niall, but she had a feeling it would be far more complicated than that. "If you start dating me, you are going to have to dump Krystal."

"And?" Niall asked, his voice growing excited as he began to further think about how this was actually the perfect solution. "People in Hollywood break up all the time. It's nothing new."

"I just think its going to be more complicated then you think Ni."

"So you don't want me to go through with it? You want me to keep up this act with Krystal and keep sneaking around? I thought you wanted a real relationship?" Niall replied with confusion.

"Of course I want a real relationship, Niall," Kelsey said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit beside her. "I would love to be able to do what we wanted without worrying about someone spotting us." She squeezed Niall's hand, letting him know that there was nothing she wanted more in the world. "But I just don't want you to jump into this decision. This is your career we're talking about."

"I've already made my decision, Kels. Mike told me to come bearing a solution and this is it. You are my solution." He reached a hand up and brushed Kelsey's cheek. "Just trust me on this, everything is going to be okay."

Kelsey nodded her head in agreement. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that this meeting wasn't going to go as planned.

***************************

The Capitol Records building is just as fancy as you would expect the office of a premier icon of the music industry. Modern décor, framed albums and autographed photos. The ambience would be intimidating to someone entering for something as casual as a tour, let alone a someone entering for a meeting with executives.

Kelsey felt her heart racing as she entered the elevator. Niall must have sensed her nervousness, because he grabbed her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze as the elevator makes its ascent. She wondered what they would do when they saw her with him. Would they yell at her? Demand that she leave the building immediately? Or would they shake her hand and ask her about herself, to see that maybe she was in fact, the perfect person for Niall Horan to be dating in the midst of his album promotion?

As they get off they elevator, they were greeted by a stoic looking red head with her hair slicked back in a ponytail so tight it looked like it was squeezing her head. "Have a seat right there, Mr. Michaels will be right with you."

They took a seat on a slick, black leather loveseat. Kelsey could tell Niall was nervous by the way that he was chewing at his fingertips. Mr. Michaels is large, bald man with a freshly ironed suit and red tie that only adds to his intimidating aura. Kelsey can't help but think that he looks somewhat familiar, but she can' t place. Maybe he'd been a patron at The Manhattan or perhaps she'd simply passed him on the street.

"Mr. Horan," he grumbled, offering out his hand which Niall quickly stood and shook. He looked towards Kelsey, shooting her a mischievous smile. "And Miss Benton, what a pleasant surprise."

Niall looked over at Kelsey with a confused glance. "Didn't think I'd have done my research so quickly Mr. Horan? I'm offended," Mr. Michaels chuckled. He adjusted his tie before taking a step back towards his office. "Well I believe we have some business to attend to, shall we?"

Niall stood and Kelsey stood up following him. Mr. Michaels took a seat behind a large glass desk as Kelsey and Niall sat in two hard metal chairs in front of him. Mr. Michaels clasped his hands in front of him before clearing his throat loudly. "So let me guess, both of you are here today because you'd like your relationship to take the place of the one that we've hired Miss Hoffman for?"

Niall gulped. The stare Mr. Michaels was giving him wasn't one that reflected him thinking this was a brilliant idea by any means. He tried to mentally remind himself of all the points he had come up with on the drive over. All the reasons he could convince Michaels and the rest of the PR team that this was all a benefit to his album sales, and not a detriment. But in this moment, he couldn't seem to come up with any of them. Instead he muttered a shaky, "That would be correct, sir."

"A question for you Miss Benton," Mr. Michaels declared rather than asked. Kelsey nodded her head slowly. "What do you know about dating a celebrity?" His eyes latch onto Kelsey's and she felt her already pounding heart increase in speed.

"I mean, I know there is always the risk of being caught by the paparazzi's. And that there are a lot of performances and appearances," she glanced over at Niall hoping for some reassurance. He offered her the slightest of smiles. "And I know that you have to grow a thick skin, because their are always going to be people: fans, media, stars, critiquing your every move." Kelsey wanted to add on that she thought she could handle it. That she realized that bringing her relationship with Niall out to the public would come with these new challenges, but that she was prepared to face them, but before she can begin to speak, Mr. Michaels has shifted his gaze towards Niall.

"And you, Mr. Horan. I'd like to hear just what you must think the benefits of dating this girl instead of Miss Hoffman are to you and your team here at Capitol. They must be good ones, hmm," Mr. Michaels raised his eyebrows. "Considering you brought Miss Benton here to our meeting today when it wasn't part of our request."

Niall looked over at Kelsey, then back at Mr. Michaels, his beady gray eyes piercing into his soul. If the goal was to make Niall feel like he had made an incredibly stupid decision then it had most definitely been accomplished, because the longer that Niall sat in this chair enduring the stare of a man who for held his music career in his hands, the smaller he felt.

"I just thought," his voice cracked. He cleared his voice, taking a deep breath and trying to command ever ounce of confidence that remained in his body. "I thought that if the whole goal of me being in a relationship this promotion cycle was that you could portray me as a guy that wasn't heartbroken, wouldn't it be more authentic if I actually was with someone who I'm developing feelings for. You of all people should know my fanbase, they aren't just naïve little girls who believe everything in front of their eyes. They investigate things, they can sense things aren't quite right. Hell, sometimes I think they know me better than I know myself!"

He glanced over at Kelsey who was giving him a reassuring smile. "The point is, I think they can sense that something isn't quite there with my relationship with Krystal. And I think this pap shot is exactly the kind of opportunity to come clean about the whole thing and just tell the truth. And then let me be in an authentic relationship. One with this amazing, smart, beautiful girl sitting next to me."

If Mr. Michaels is moved or convinced by Niall's answer, he didn't show it. Instead, his face remained blank, as he scratched his hairless head with his fingers. "And what of Miss Hoffman then, Mr. Horan?"

"I'm sure you have plenty of ways to frame the end of relationship. I mean, some stars getting a divorce nearly every other day in the newspaper."

Mr. Michaels leaned forward in his chair, picking up a black pen and rolling it between his fingers. "Let me play for a just a second...devil's advocate."

He took a long drawn out pause. Niall shifted nervously in his seat. Kelsey found herself picking at a hangnail on the edge of her thumbnail.

Mr. Michaels continued. "What happens when people hear that Niall has broken up with Krystal and is now with some other girl? They might think that you are a player, or a heartbreaker. Or maybe that you were cheating the whole time you were with Krystal." He set the pen in his hands down on the countertop once again, staring Niall down in a way that made Niall feel like he was a specimen in a lab. "Or say we go with your suggestion, Mr. Horan. We tell your fans that Krystal was just for the publicity and that in the meantime you have met someone else. Then what will they think of you. Their idol is a liar, he'll do anything to promote his music... blah blah blah, blah blah."

"Do you see why you've put the team in quite the predicament here?" Mr. Michaels leaned forward once again, closing the distance between them. "One that simply isn't solved just by 'telling the truth'. People outside the industry don't realize that there is no true honesty in the entertainment industry. It's all about perception. Public perception. Media perception. Changing that perception to fulfill your needs and goals."

Mr. Michaels stood from behind his desk, and Niall and Kelsey exchanged a confused glance. Niall wasn't sure if this meant that the team would consider his suggestion, or if Mr. Michaels had already made his decision.

"Miss Benton, if you will have a seat back in the lobby, I believe Mr. Horan and I have a bit more to discuss," Mr. Michaels gestured towards the door as Kelsey stood up slowly. "It was a pleasure to see you again. Really was a shame the job didn't work out. But I think we made a pretty good choice with Miss Hoffman don't you think?"

That's when Kelsey finally made the connection. This man was the man sitting behind the coffee table with a stack of papers higher than any Kelsey had ever seen. The one that had asked her the strangest interview questions of her life. But that had been for a PR job Becca had told Kelsey might give her a leg up for entertainment law later in life. The job description had been vague, will little explanation of responsibilities or requirements. But that hadn't been for Krystal's job...had it?

Kelsey caught a glance of Niall's face as she exited Mr. Michaels' office. His face was formed in a scowl. He stared at her in a way that he never had before. This stare was a mix of anger, hurt and shock all in one. Kelsey wanted to stop right there and explain. Explain that she hadn't even known that the job she had applied for was to be Niall's fake girlfriend. Explain that she wouldn't have ever taken if it once she found out that was what it was. But instead she's ushered out of the office by Mr. Michaels' assistant, taking a seat on the hard black leather chair and having to let her mind wander about just what was being said in that office right now.

When Kelsey leaves the room, Niall sat for a moment stunned. The world seemed like it was moving in slow motion. At first he thought he had misheard, because how could Kelsey have applied for Krystal's job and not told him. Especially after all they'd talked about it. But the look on her face when she left the room wasn't one of shock or defensiveness. It was more of recognition, and the thought that Kelsey might have been keeping this secret from Niall was terrifying to him.

But Niall doesn't have time to linger on the thought of being betrayed, as Mr. Michaels begins to lecture once again."Mr. Horan, we expect that you will put an end to this...to this little charade of yours. When you are out of promotional season you are free to date whomever you wish, but if you'll remember our contract..."

So that was it. Niall would get no discussion. No consideration of a new plan. In fact, he was sure now that Mr. Michaels had made his decision the moment Niall and Kelsey stepped into his office.

"Unless you don't want your album released?" Mr. Michaels added, his voice threatening.

Niall nodded. "Of course I want the album released, I understand."

Mr. Michaels pulled out a large manila folder. He opened it, revealing a photo of Kelsey and Niall, hand and hand, walking down the Los Angeles streets. "If you are asked about these photos, she's a good friend. Nothing more. We think we've done enough that they should stay out of the press for now, but you know how things can be. But if pictures like this were to surface again, well, that could be catastrophic."

Niall knew that Mr. Michaels wasn't talking about catastrophic for Capitol Records. Mr. Michaels was hinting at catastrophic for Niall's album, his music career.

"Understood, sir," Niall said standing from his chair and begrudgingly giving Mr. Michaels a handshake.

"End it, Niall." Mr. Michaels commanded, once more before Niall walks out the door.

Niall didn't say anything to Kelsey as he exited the office. He simply makes his way towards the elevator, Kelsey clattering behind him. Tension hangs in the elevator as they make their way back down, and Kelsey knew an explosion was coming.

They slide into the car awaiting them outside the building in silence and when the driver asks if they are going back to Niall's place or Kelsey's. She responded "Mine first," without missing a beat.

"When I got that phone call do know what the first thing that ran through my mind was?" Niall broke the silence, his voice laced with frustration. "It wasn't the thought that I might get dropped from my label or that I wouldn't get to make music again. The first thing that came to my mind Kelsey was that they might try to get rid of you." Niall's voice continued to raise in volume, his face reddening by the second. "Do you even realize how much it scares me that I didn't for a second think that maybe I should end this. That I would literally risk my standing with the label then lose you?!"

"And then," he continued, barely even looking at Kelsey. "And then I find out that you could have been her. All this time when I told you how I just couldn't understand what kind of person would volunteer for a job like that. Well, apparently that type of person is you." His last words sting Kelsey as they leave his mouth.

"Niall, it's not like that I can explain..." Kelsey tried to protest. She needed Niall to understand that this wasn't something that she had kept from him willingly. If she had known that the job was the one Krystal had she would have told him from the beginning.

"Explain what Kelsey? How you aren't the person I thought you were." Niall yelled, crossing his arms in front of him. The look on his face is a look of disgust, his eyes fiery. And Kelsey isn't sure that she can say anything that will change is mind.

"I..." Kelsey began.

"When I said no more secrets that didn't just apply to me. I thought it would apply to you to!" Niall interrupted.

"Listen to me Niall," Kelsey's voice came out for more like a yell than she intended. "I didn't know that I was applying for that job. They never told me when I interviewed. I wasn't keeping anything from you!"

"You should have something the moment you recognized him," Niall spat.

"And what good would that have done Niall? You wouldn't have brought me into that office with you is that what you are trying to say?" Kelsey felt her pulse beating violently in her head.

Niall didn't respond for a moment. "Maybe," he muttered, turning his gaze to look out of the car window.

"I told you Niall, I had NO idea. You aren't even listening to me," Kelsey said with frustration, throwing up her hands. Niall didn't turn his head, instead, he kept his gaze firmly planted on the Los Angeles streets outside. He stayed that way, back turned away from Kelsey until they reach Kelsey's apartment.

As Kelsey opened the door of the black Escalade, she wanted to say something else. To remind him that things aren't always what they seem. His relationship with Krystal had proved that. But she knew that he was in a place where he couldn't even hear the words. She knew because she'd been in that place before.

Instead, she softly spoke the question that had been burning in her mind ever since Niall exited Mr. Michaels office. "Did they tell you to end it? To end us?" Her voice comes out meek, like she's not quite sure she even wants to know the answer.

Niall turned to look at her, his face stoic. "Yes."

"Are you going to?" She asked, her voice now shaking.

"I don't know," he answered, before Kelsey stepped out the car and closed the door. Watching Niall's car drive away as she stood in shock on the sidewalk.

Tag List:

@awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @niall-is-my-dream

#this chapter is A LOT so let me know what you think!#voir dire #writingby1dfangirls35 #niall horan writing #niall horan #niall horan ff #niall horan fanfiction #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #1dff #fake dating #secret relationship #niall x ofc

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

Text

See The Light: Chapter 1

A/N: My first ever series! Hopefully I can finish this before the end of the year.

***

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

yandere bts masterlist | main masterlist

[Edited]

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.” - Every Breath You Take [The Police]

“I got a new house!”

The message came in one day, where you were just lying around on the couch. It was your day off; something that you had long anticipated after weeks of endless meetings and a barrage of complaints. You had considered resigning a few times before, simply because the pressure was becoming harder for you to bear, but you reminded yourself that a new job might not have the same payment as your current one. You absolutely couldn’t risk losing this job – with such a high salary – and falling into poverty. The apartment rate had increased a few months ago, so it only served as a reminder that you couldn’t make a delicate decision that had the potential of ruining your future.

“Congrats!” you texted back. You were never a fan of long reply, and your friends often complained that you could be too curt for their liking. That, and because you rarely responded to messages. You couldn’t help it, though; you preferred meeting them in person rather than chatting.

A picture popped on the display one minute later, showing a basic two-story house amidst the plethora of verdant trees. There wasn’t anything remarkable from it, aside from a few graffiti that smeared the garage door, but nothing some splashes of paint couldn’t handle. Several holes from old age and termites adorned the door, but that was it.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” There was a moment of silence before your phone dinged again. “You wanna come over? Feel the fresh air and the like? God knows how you deserve a little break once in a while.”

You pursed your lips. While you had been planning to spend the rest of the weekend cooped up inside your house, there was nothing wrong from spending time with her either. Irene had been your best friend since middle school, and she was the one who introduced you to Kim Namjoon, your future employer. You could at least make an effort to indulge in her wishes; to repay her kindness for helping you through so many hardships.

After all, what harm could be done from a simple sleepover?

Shrugging, you agreed to her invitation and dropped your phone beside you after locking it. You huffed, staring at the ceiling as you contemplated whether you should spend the remainder of the day packing your clothes or procrastinate until there was no time left. Knowing that Irene could be scary when provoked, you quickly got up and headed to your room.

Better to do it now than later.

The next day, you were already prepared with everything and waited in the lobby of your apartment. Irene had promised you that she would pick you up last night. Normally, she was punctual, but it had been ten minutes and there was still no sign from her. Not even a text message. You decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and willed yourself to wait a little more despite the cram that crept up your legs.

A few minutes later, a shiny red car pulled up in the curb. The black window slowly slid down, revealing the woman you had been waiting for. Irene waved from inside the car, her other hand holding the steering wheel.

“Hey, sorry I took so long. There was crazy traffic back there,” she said.

With that sheepish and apologetic smile, you knew you couldn’t stay mad for too long. Still, it didn’t mean you wouldn’t let her off the hook just like that. And because you were feeling rather playful today.

“I waited for almost an hour, you know?” you grumbled as you put your luggage on the backseat. You called the shotgun and pulled the door shut a bit too harsh than intended.

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t even that long.” Irene kicked the accelerator and the car began to move forward. “By the way, how was work? Everything good?”

You groaned. “It was stressful. The clients kept complaining like, why couldn’t they just suck it up and appreciate our efforts?! God, this week was the worst.” You sighed, rubbing your temples to ease the growing stress and frustration.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But hey, look at the bright side! You’ll get to sleep in my new house now.”

“Yeah, I guess...”

Irene rubbed your arm comfortingly. “It's okay. Don’t let it get to you. I’m sure next week would be the best week.”

You hummed, half pessimistic and half optimistic at the thought. If there was one thing that you learned from being an adult, it was that you couldn't be too hopeful with the future because fate always found a way to screw it up somehow. No matter how hard you worked to prevent that, you were helpless against nature.

“I sure hope so.” you murmured.

The rest of the trip went in silence. Occasionally she stopped to fill the gas, and you used that chance to finish nature’s call and bought some snacks. Other than that, you didn’t make any attempt to talk and Irene was more than understanding with your situation. It was moments like this where you truly appreciated her; how she was able to predict your moods and feelings and never slip in some advice without your consent. Because you often wanted a willing ear to listen to your venting, not lecturing you like some kind of a naïve child.

Sometimes, you considered her as more like an older sister and not just a best friend due to her caring nature.

“Here we are.”

You jolted awake, flinching at the abrupt exposure of sunlight. Rubbing the crust from your eyes, you yawned and groggily climbed out. You blinked – once, twice – before gazing at the building in front of you. It looked just like in the picture she’d sent; ordinary and a bit more weatherworn.

“So,” Irene sidled up to you, crossing her arms proudly as if she were watching a showcase. “What do you think?”

You pondered your answer for a second before nodding in approval. “Yeah, it definitely looks prettier than in the photo.”

“I know, right?” She grinned, happy that you didn’t comment on the plain appearance despite her awareness of your little white lie. Your effort to be considerate to her feelings was much appreciated, though. “I just need to fix some things and this house will be the comfiest house in the whole country.”

You hummed as you went to unload your bags. She helped you carry them on to the second floor, where she told you that it would be your temporary room. You didn’t mind it, although you did think that it would be a hassle to have to go up and down the stairs every time you wanted to eat. At least, the room was in a slightly better condition.

“My room is here, okay?” Irene said, patting the first door near the entrance. “The kitchen is just down the hallway, adjoined with a bathroom. Your room already has its own bathroom, though. So you don’t need to go downstairs every time you want to take a bath.”

You nodded to let her know that you were listening. “Of course.”

“And this is...” You both went upstairs, where she pointed to a string that dangled on the ceiling. “Is the attic, obviously. I haven’t had the time to check it out yet. Feel free to do it. Who knows, you might find some undiscovered gems in there.” She winked playfully, much to your confusion.

“How much is this house anyway?” you asked after she finished the brief tour. There were too many rooms for you to memorize, thus you decided to stick to the main ones. It wasn’t as if you would venture deeper, with or without her permission.

“Oh, it was a little expensive than I thought it'd be.” She jutted out her bottom lip to express her displeasure towards the fact. “I mean, it’s kind of understandable. It is a big house, after all. Had I gotten it at a low price, I'd be suspicious. But I wished it was a bit cheaper, you know? Am I making sense now?”

“Well, at least you managed to buy it, right?” you murmured, patting her back. You didn't want her to regret her decision. This house might not be the prettiest in the city, but at least it seemed livable. That alone was enough for you. “For this kind of house, having an expensive price isn’t strange at all.”

“... I guess I should consider myself lucky for getting a discount in the first place.” Irene sighed, a yawn immediately escaped her mouth. “I’m tired. I’m gonna take a shower and hit the hay.”

You raised an incredulous brow. “It's still afternoon, though.”

“So? I’m tired and I need to sleep. You can eat the food if you’re hungry or watch the TV, just not too loud. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Watching her figure that disappeared down, you moved to enter your own room. It was rather spacious, with a King size bed pulled up near the window that overlooked the woods. Two nightstands adorned the bed, each has their respective lights. A cupboard stood near a door of what you assumed to be a bathroom, as told by Irene earlier, along with a few hangers attached beside it. There was also a study desk on the right side of the window, dust coated the surface.

You made a mental note to clean up the furniture to ease her work, and because you couldn’t stand dirtiness either. Your parents used to call you messy, while in reality you just didn’t bother to clear up something that would be messed again. Of course, it didn’t mean you liked dusty things.

But it could be done later. For now, you would spend your time relaxing and possibly binge watch some movies. Grabbing a towel from your bag, you slung it over your shoulders and walked towards the bathroom. You figured a nice, long and hot shower would go a long way to assuage the daily distress.

While you were busy doing your things, a pair of dark eyes watched you from the darkness.

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the-bounce-back · 4 years

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BEING ‘SINGLE SINGLE’ - LESSONS LEARNED FROM FOCUSING ON MYSELF

Well, hey there. It’s been a while.

As I’m sure you all will appreciate and understand, March was an extremely hot mess in many ways, but mainly due to how COVID-19 showed up and started ruining everyone’s lives, and my motivation to write has been very limited due to stress and anxiety over how the situation is unfolding (please stay safe and at home!). However, I have finally somewhat adjusted to the situation and started to feel kind of normal again, so… I’m back like I never left. We love to see it.

I should point out that this post has been on my mind since, like, late December, and I started writing it in the middle of February after I finished the Confidence Chronicles. As the effects of Miss Rona started to become even more prominent in our everyday lives, I wanted to rewrite some of the parts so it would become more relevant to what is currently going on before publishing it… so without further ado, let’s get into it.

If you’re in my age group, I’m sure you will understand and agree that there are different ‘categories’ of being single, and all these levels are immensely different if you get political and look at the specific details of them. For the purpose of clarity and to illustrate, I (personally) would dub these categories as such:

*Single and MiNgLiNg: You’re not tied down to anyone. You’re talking to, seeing and doing whatever you want, with whoever you want, whenever you want. You’re living your best, unbothered life. Feelings are/have become an alien concept to you. I respect it. Gwarn with your bad self.

*Single (but not really): You’re technically single, but there’s someone (or someones, if you’re so inclined) that you’re into and that you’re secretly hoping things will work out with so that you can leave this ghetto that we call the gAmE. I’d say that this is the category where most situationships reside in, before eventually dying out or graduating to an actual relationship. I hate this category, because it is literally the worst: everyone has different opinions on what can and can’t run, and from what I’ve seen it usually just ends up in someone getting hurt.

*Single-ish: kind of like the previous category, but the main difference is that although there might be someone you want things to work out with, you’re grudgingly talking to other people as well in case things go sour. Either to protect your own feelings or out of sheer boredom because the person you want isn’t stepping up in the way you want them to. You probably even try to convince yourself that these other people are better options than the one(s) you actually want, but deep down you know you’re lying to yourself. Sigh. A mess.

And finally, the namesake of this post:

*Single single (aka ‘Single and not looking’): You’ve completely distanced yourself from trying to get to know someone, for whatever reason. You have no interest in changing this anytime soon. Your phone is drier than your hands during this epidemic (cream your hands after washing them… please).

Up until very recently, I have considered myself single single. This came to pass after things not working out with the person that I wanted, after floating between the single (but not really) and single-ish categories for what felt like eons. I’m not even going to lie, it hurt - but I’m glad it happened. If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have been able to write this post and share what I’ve learnt from taking a step back and choosing to focus on myself, and I definitely wouldn’t have elevated to this completely new level of confidence the way I have.

The choice to cut all romantic/physical ties off for a while came when I was overanalysing the situation for the trillionth time. I realised that ever since the age of 16, I have always been involved with someone in some way - whether it’s literally just talking or something more. That’s literally almost a decade of my life that I’ve let boys/men live rent-free in my head… Ew. I know, very embarrassing. As if that embarrassment isn’t enough, I soon realised that there must be a correlation between how low my self-esteem, self-confidence and perception of self-worth used to be and the men I’ve had to deal with in my short life so far. I recognised that the craving for male attention and validation that I thought I had eliminated was, in reality, still very much intact after things ended with the person I wanted. I almost got angry at myself for feeling so empty and worthless after it ended, because I genuinely thought that I was stronger than this.

It’s all good, though - these past few months that have been spent realigning my focus in life, my personal goals and my own dreams have been so crucial to my growth as an independent woman that doesn’t need a man to feel whole. I had already come very far in this inner work (as you will tell from my previous posts), but having this time being completely alone definitely reinforced the things I already knew, but was struggling to apply to my life. I have learnt so many invaluable things about myself and what I want in a relationship in general, so let's get it.

1. I will - shock horror - not die if I don’t get attention.

This is definitely the first realisation I had after my initial decision to not talk to men anymore. As childish as it sounds, I didn’t realise how weird it would be to go from constantly being gassed by someone whose opinion I cared about a little too much… to literal radio silence.

This is how I know that this decision came at the right time of my life, because I genuinely don’t think I would’ve been able to cope without constant attention and validation a few years ago. Honestly, I was like Tinkerbell - on the verge of perishing every time I didn’t get the energy I believed (and still believe!) I deserved when I was looking nice. It’s very embarrassing and almost comical how much it used to ruin my day if I didn’t get some kind of comment about how pRetTy I am, and I’m so grateful to myself that I got out of that mindset before committing to being alone. If you’ve read my post about how to have a healthy relationship (if not, find it here), you might remember that I talked about how freeing myself from the perception that attention, affection and validation from men being something needed to survive in this life was one of the best realisations I’ve ever had. This is still entirely true, and not being involved with anyone has even made me even more of an advocate for this.

I feel like I’ve discussed the importance of building your confidence to death during my confidence series, so I’m not going to delve too deep into it here. But if you haven’t read those posts, the most important takeaway is that confidence and a deep belief in your own sauce comes from within, and gradually breaking down your insecurities with positivity, a willingness to think about/confront your demons, taking the time to get to know yourself properly, and giving yourself the love and accolades you know you deserve. At no point whatsoever did I mention the approval of men (or whoever you’re attracted to). With this in mind, I can definitely say that this deep love and appreciation I’ve been feeling for myself lately has 100% stemmed from me truly believing in it, as opposed to partially based in forcing myself to believe it and partially based in expecting validation from whoever I’m dealing with.

Furthermore, I’ve officially gotten to the point where the compliments I give myself have started to slap harder than compliments/attention from men, and it’s made me feel extremely empowered and like I have a newfound appreciation for myself. They mean more for the following reasons:

* They’re largely focused on aspects of my personality, mindset, abilities and intelligence - as opposed to just empty comments on my physical features/body.

*The only ulterior motive I have with giving myself compliments is to improve my mental health and confidence, since I don’t need to get into my own good books first to off my own pant.

Whew. All tea/shade/offence intended!

All jokes aside - regardless of if you’re in a relationship, talking to someone or happily single, I’d definitely recommend asking yourself if you’d still feel the same way about yourself if you didn’t get attention or validation on a regular basis. If the answer is no, then I’d definitely recommend asking yourself why that is (and reading/rereading my Confidence Chronicles series).

2. I’m really productive when I don’t have any distractions.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve missed smiling and giggling at my phone like a smiling and giggling idiot. I’ve also missed communicating solely with dark memes, as this is one of my love languages. For those reasons, not talking to anyone kind of sucked at times.

However, much like cutting junk food out of your diet - it gets easier the longer you stick to it, and after some time you’ll realise that you’re probably better off without it. Honestly. The amount of time I’ve freed up from not constantly being on my phone to have pointless giggly conversations about absolutely nothing is actually insane, and before Corona came into the picture, I was extremely productive (not to say that I’m no longer productive… but I may or may not have been doing 48h Netflix binges every few days now that everything is closed).

I’ve spent more time brainstorming blog ideas. My art has drastically improved. I’ve started to lose the depression weight I put on. My skin has cleared up. I’m currently learning eight new languages. I’m writing a whole BOOK. I’ve taken time to update my career plan. And last but not least - I’ve spent a lot of time healing and looking to the future as opposed to dwelling on the past and things that I am unable to change.

Having time to myself - especially while being in a better frame of mind than other times I’ve found myself alone - has reinforced the knowledge of how much I can accomplish and how good I can feel about myself outside of a relationship. This isn’t news to me, at all. But if I had realised how much of a difference being completely solo dolo would have to my productivity and motivation, I definitely would’ve chosen to cut everyone off ages ago… however, the timing in this case has been impeccable. Committing to be alone after going through over a year of inner work and self-healing has allowed me to both appreciate the confidence and resilience I’ve been rebuilding on a completely new level, as well as be able to take a step back and fully enjoy the peacefulness of not having to constantly have someone to worry/overthink about outside of myself and my own goals/projects.

3. I’m a really f*cking cool person to hang out with.

This realisation came long before I decided to not talk to men, to be honest. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been an ambivert - meaning that as much as I love spending time with friends, I highly value my alone time as well. Regardless of if I’m just Netflixing, writing, drawing or imagining fake scenarios in my head that will never happen (unless, of course, my book becomes a bestseller and I end up on Ellen), I always have a fantastic time being alone. It’s my time to recharge, dissect my thoughts and feelings, and not have to deal with anyone else for a bit.

When I first decided to be completely single, one of my main goals was to commit to being comfortable alone regardless of the situation. I’ve always been comfortable taking myself to see a movie or on a nice café date, but I really wanted to push myself to the next level of iNdEpEnDeNcE. I went to a couple gigs and a couple tourist attractions alone earlier this year when no one could/wanted to go, and I had the best time ever. Honestly, I was living the dream. Those experiences made me start planning the cute little solo holidays I was going to go on and restaurants I wanted to take myself to, and I was getting really excited. But then, of course, Corona came and ruined everything, so my plans have been put on hold indefinitely.

With that being said, I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss going out for cute little dates with someone I’m seeing/in a relationship with. Some of my favourite memories are gigs, day trips and holidays with someone else. But I think once I chose to ignore the social norms in place that dub doing things alone as “weird” - and overcome feeling “weird” as I’ve done things alone - I’ve definitely felt more excited to schedule in quality time with myself. I personally can’t wait for this Rona nonsense to be over so I can resume planning my art/architecture trip.

“But Liv! How did you overcome the feelings of awkwardness and weirdness when you went out? How did you overcome the anxiety that people were looking at/judging you?”

Excellent question. The answer is hard drugs and loads of alcohol.

I’m kidding. I don’t think the anxiety ever fully goes away, since we’ve been so hardwired to see people without a group as an outcast or even a threat. But at some point I just decided to focus on enjoying myself, as opposed to worrying about what the people I’d never see again around me felt.

(Also… alcohol definitely helps. Drink responsibly, kids.)

4. Apparently I have a massive saviour complex?

I think most people that have known me for a long time or at least taken the time to get to know me properly would agree that I am a huge empath. I have always been highly perceptive of other peoples’ feelings, emotions and moods, and I am instinctively inclined to ensure that people feel seen and heard after speaking with me about whatever they needed to vent/get advice about. This, because I’m obviously a huge advocate of normalising talking about mental health struggles, and because I genuinely enjoy sensing that they feel better after confiding in me.

Now, I wouldn’t necessarily say that being an empath is a bad thing - in fact, these traits are some of the things I like the most about myself. But taking a step back from any kind of relationship/situationship has made me suddenly and painfully aware that my high levels of empathy may not be based in a fundamental kindness as I initially thought. In fact, part of it - and I have no idea how large this part is - may be due to a severe saviour complex, and therefore based in an inherent selfishness.

Yes, I know it’s confusing. Me too, I’m confused. Hear me out.

Sometimes I get so carried away while writing about all the ways that I’ve healed and bettered myself after my previous relationship… so much that I forget I had issues I was going to counselling for before he ruined everything and the sessions became all about getting over him. I genuinely forget sometimes that I had a life before I even knew he even existed, which just goes to show how large of an impact it had on me. Very sad, I know.

The stuff I was going to counselling for at the time had me in a very dark place, and looking back at it the breakup was kind of a blessing in disguise for my brain. I definitely think that refocusing my energy to heal from the relationship protected me from having to face certain aspects of myself that I wasn’t ready to deal with at the time.

Fast forward to a couple years later - I consider myself fully healed from the situation. I’ve learnt so much about myself, my mental health, relationships and love in general, and for a good year or so I was meeting new people and starting to think about a potential new relationship. I met some great people (and a couple nutcases) that things didn’t end up working out with, but I didn’t really mind that things weren’t going perfectly because I had hEaLeD™, and I had proved to myself that I could move on… so sh*t was sweet for a while.

However, when I decided to go on this dating hiatus, something I didn’t expect at all happened:

The issues, thoughts and feelings I was initially going to counselling for - before the breakup - started to come back to my attention. And this time, there was nowhere to run and nothing/nobody to distract me.

At this point in time, being forced to face these issues genuinely doesn’t feel as hard as it used to, as I have grown and matured a lot since when I first started feeling these things at around 14/15. I can think about things without it ruining the rest of my day, and I can put words to the feelings I struggled so much to verbalise back then. But regardless of how much easier it is now, it’s still f*cking hard - and this is what brings me back to my point about having a saviour complex.

The term “saviour complex” implies a deep rooted need to save/help people by fixing their problems - often at the expense of their own needs and feelings. Some would even go as far as saying that these “saviours” go out of their way to help others so they don’t have to deal with their own thoughts and feelings, and the more I think about it the more painfully obvious it is that perhaps my inclination to help people - and especially those that I’ve been involved with in some way - comes from a place of selfishness and an immense desire to not have to think about my own troubles.

This has definitely been a scary epiphany for me, and old habits have made me focus on the negative side of constantly trying to help and empathise with people. It’s made me question my entire character, in the sense that the traits that I’ve admired the most about myself might just be a defence mechanism so I don’t have to deal with my own sh*t. However, on the other hand, I’ve been spending a lot of energy reminding myself that regardless of what the truth is - if I ever figure it out - I’ve still been able to help people that have needed someone to be there for them, so does it even really matter what the reasons are at the end of the day? Probably not. I really need to keep working on getting out of my own head sometimes.

With that being said, being alone - whether it’s being single or temporarily for this lockdown - really forces you to face yourself and accept that maybe you don’t have everything as together as you thought, and that’s okay. As long as you acknowledge/fully feel your thoughts and feelings instead of dismissing them out of discomfort, the outcome can only be emotional growth and maturity.

5. My next relationship is going to be phenomenal.

Arguably to my disadvantage, and despite experiencing how peaceful and stress-free being completely single is… I still want love in my life, as long as it is on the right terms and healthy for both of us. I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic like that, at the end of the day… or a sick masochist.

I say this, but I know that all this work I’ve put into rebuilding and elevating myself will - when the time is right - bring someone amazing into my life, that will fully love my confidence, my imperfections and everything else about me that makes me, me. I have so much faith in this that for now, I’m really just chilling and going about my life and my own goals, as well as trusting the process. I feel no stress or anxiety about it anymore whatsoever, and I never thought I’d ever get to this point of calmness. It really is a great feeling to know that the next person lucky enough to be in a relationship with me is going to be nothing short of an additional blessing in my life (and I to theirs), because I am now no longer willing to compromise on or overlook toxic/unhealthy/bad vibes in whoever I end up with. For this reason, I would once again like to reiterate how grateful I am to myself for realising that this time alone was something I needed (and actually sticking to it) - it really has made me feel invincible.

The beautiful thing about all of these realisations is that you don’t even have to be as drastic as me (in terms of cutting the person/the people you’re talking to off) to get into a better headspace when it comes to relationships. If you’re lucky enough to be in a relationship with/dealing with someone that respects, loves and encourages your individuality, allocating quality time to spend with yourself shouldn’t even need to be justified. Obviously, a lot of relationships don’t really have a choice besides giving each other space during this lockdown, but even so I don’t think that time apart should be seen as a strain or a risk to the relationship. I feel so strongly about this that I’ve realised that I can’t even be with someone who doesn’t understand the importance of being our own, separate people who choose to form a team, as opposed to two incomplete individuals who are reliant on each other to feel whole.

With that being said, my biggest realisation and takeaway from this time alone is this:

My next relationship will not “complete” me; it will simply compliment my already existing wholeness.

Read that again.

Now - I know we’re all sick and tired of being cooped up in our houses. But we literally have all the time in the world to spend quality time with ourselves, so why not do so? Now is the perfect time for reflection, g-checking yourself, positive affirmations and self-love. I promise that you’ll come out of this lockdown feeling so much better about yourself.

Stay safe (and stay home)!

Love,

Liv

#selfhelp #love #empowerment

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secondchancesfic · 5 years

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S.C: Chapter V

Superhero!AU

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Parental Analogical, Platonical Anxceit, unrequited love (LoganxDeceit), Logicality

Tags/Warnings: Anxiety, jealously, violence, explosions, alcohol, Patton (If I missed something, please let me know)

Words: 5034

The dreadful date day came like a flash. Logan was so busy between his jobs he forgot about the entire thing...Or at least he tried. Virgil would usually remind him about the date with messages through phone, for some reason he seemed more excited than Logan. At first the teacher thought it would be interesting and maybe fun to meet someone outside his work place, but now he was getting second, third and even fourth thoughts about the whole ordeal. He considered not going at all, but that would have been really rude towards the date.

The main issue was going out with a complete stranger. Sure, Virgil did gave him the full info from the dating site and the guy seemed reasonable and decent enough, but this was a huge jump out of his comfort zone. Logan had a lot of troubles talking to anyone, let alone a potential love interest. Needless to say, he wasn’t thrill about going out on an uncomfortable social ritual.

The first thing his son did after school was to get into Logan’s closet and pull all the clothes he had, deciding on what his dad should wear to impress the date. The teacher and Gregory got home a couple hours later and Virgil quickly throw the chosen clothes to his father.

-What is it this…?- Logan asked.

-It’s for your date, come on- Virgil said as he went back to the room.

-Tha-that was today…? -Logan stuttered a very noticeable lie.

-Yes! Now get dressed!- Virgil shout.

Gregory frown at the scene, but hid his annoyance with a smirk.

-Why are you so insistent, Virge? Let your old man go at his own pace- He said as he walked towards the hallway, passing Logan’s room and going into his own bedroom.

-I am… not that old…- Logan mumbled

Virgil got out of the room and walked towards his dad holding 2 ties. –For as long as I have been under this roof, he has been coop up here or the office. He should think outside the work place-

Gregory left his backpack and went back to the living where the whole scene was unfolding-Yeah, right. Because you are such an expert on the subject- Gregory said sarcastically, a bit of annoyance showing in his tone.

-Listen. I might not be the best at this things, but I sure as hell know when someone needs a break- Virgil said as he throw the ties at his dad to hold.

-Virgil, I have to focus on my work. A partner is just… A distraction- Logan said stumbling in his words.

-That’s the point- Virgil said nonchalantly. Both Logan and Gregory give him a confused look.

–I mean, like…Ugh… Look, dad. I think this could be good for you, meeting someone outside your jobs, maybe relax for a bit-

-I relax with our usual café trips- Logan stated.

-Yeah, but that’s just our thing. You always tell me to get friends, which I do have. You need someone that isn’t from work- Virgil said as he dragged Logan.

Gregory stopped Virgil from going into Logan’s room.

-Virgil, don’t you think you’re being a bit controlling here? I mean, Logan seems so comfortable right now-

Virgil looked at his dad, Logan was still holding the clothes in a nervous bundle. He let go of his dad.

-Virgil, why are you so desperate on me getting a partner?- Logan asked his son.

He always had exaggerated reactions over certain matters, this case was really odd none the less. Virgil bit his thumb and let out a breath.

-Dad, I already told you. You’ve been coop up here or the office, you don’t go out at all. I don’t mean for you to get a partner right away. At least just a friend that isn’t from your job, you’ve been looking…gloomier than usual-

Gregory snorted. –That’s pure gold coming from you-

Virgil rolled his eyes. –I just want you to have fun outside all the mess of work, ok? You deserve it…- He said as he put his hands inside the hoodie pockets not looking how Logan was astonished and moved by the gesture.

Virgil’s healing power was amazing, a truly incredible and wonderful power which helps everyone around him but what Logan appreciated more was his son’s perceptiveness and care for others wellbeing. Even when Virgil was usually anxious and closed down in public places, every time someone wasn’t feeling well he would know and try to help as much as he could. It seems he perceived how Logan was overworking himself and just thought a change of pace would help his father. Logan held the clothes tightly, trying to hold back the overwhelming joy he was feeling in his chest.

-Alright, Virgil. I’ll go out- He said calmly. Virgil look up at his father and smiled lightly. Logan walk over to his room and closed it.

Gregory wasn’t at all happy about this, he was furious. What if this nobody of a dude make Logan fall for him? Or worst? The thought made his insides burn. He wanted to get this guy out of the equation, maybe just disappear him for a night. No one would notice. Maybe Logan but it doesn’t matter, he didn’t wanted to go in the first place, right? Was the storage place still open?

…

He is thinking really crazy again. Those kind of thoughts were normal for Gregory, at some points they would pop out and he would be able to just move one but this time they were getting worst, not only worst they were increasing and were relentless. He really hated them and hated himself for having them. Gregory knows he wouldn’t even act on them but it was really annoying and tiring to try to push them deep down, especially when he was jealous. He should know by now Logan and he were never meant to be.

-Hey, Dee. You ok?- Virgil asked the other hero, who was staring at the ground rather intensely.

-…Wha…?- Gregory mind halted and looked at Virgil. Virgil was patting Gregory in his arm, looking worried. –Yeah. I’m fine, just tired-

Gregory went to his room and closed the door behind him. Virgil didn’t thought twice about his friend… He thought 5 times if something was wrong. Gregory wasn’t the talkative type of person, especially not about personal stuff unless there was something really, really wrong or important. Virgil wonder what was bothering him and if he should press on, but he decided against it at the end since Gregory wouldn’t budge anyway. He’ll ask later, now his friend probably needed rest.

Logan had finished showering and putting on the clothes Virgil chose which he didn’t even remember he had. Maybe he bought them for something but never used them and eventually forgot they even existed. He fix his tie and then looked at the mirror to fix his hair, Logan didn’t exactly care much whether or not he was attractive he cared about looking professional. Although once he looked at himself he thought Virgil had a point, he did look rather tired…and sad in some sort of way.

Maybe the change of routine would help him a bit. Of course he wouldn’t get a partner right away, but meeting someone new could be good for his mental state. Someone that didn’t reminded him of work or anything of the sorts, talking about other type of topics and…

Wait… Logan’s life is work, he doesn’t know what other topics there are…

-Abort mission-

His phone buzzed. There was a new message from an unknown number popping in the screen.

Hey is this Logan? HI! I’m Patton! I just wanted to make sure if we’re meeting at The Attic Café.

Oh…

Logan didn’t even catch the name of this guy before. Patton… And… What café is that? He’ll have to ask Virgil, he probably decided the meeting place for him.

Greetings. Yes, this is Logan. And the café is adequate. At what time should I meet you?

Logan put down the phone and finished fixing his attire. He grabbed his keys and his phone, heading out of the room. The phone buzzed again and a new message appeared.

I’ll be there at 6! Don’t be LATTE!

Is…Is that a pun?

Logan give the benefit of the doubt and thought it might have been the auto corrector. Virgil was eating as he scrolled down in his phone, looking at some posts. When Logan walk by he stared at his dad and hold back the excitement.

-You look great, dad- Virgil commented.

Logan scratch his head flustered. –Don’t you think this is too much? We are meeting at a café after all-

-You are showing who you are, and what’s more you than formal clothes and a tie?- Virgil throw finger guns. Logan still seemed unsure. –You’ll be fine, dad. I bet you are gonna make this guy fall for you in a second-

-I think the only thing that will fall are his ears- Gregory said as he walked by the kitchen. He had changed his clothes to casual ones.

-You are going out?- Logan asked

-Yeah- Gregory said as he went towards the door.

-You said you were tired- Virgil said as he stared at Gregory, looking suspiciously at him.

-Not anymore. I’m just meeting a friend-

-Do you need a ride?- Logan questioned as he went to grab the keys from his pocket.

-Nah, I’ll walk. It’s not that far anyway. Tell the guy I wish him luck with you- He smirked and left the home.

Logan chuckled and hold the keys. –I better get going as well-

-Later, dad- Virgil waved as he kept scrolling through his phone.

Logan closed the door, then remember he didn’t know where the place was. He was going inside again when his phone buzzed. In the screen there was a message from Virgil, he had send the address of the café. Sometimes he thinks Virgil might have telepathy as well but decides to keep it a secret to mess with him. Or maybe he is just really perceptive. Logan went out of the department building, got in his car and drove away.

Gregory saw as Logan drove away and kept walking. He walked all the way from home to the bar he went the other day to meet Remy. He thought it would make him cool down from the whole situation but nothing had changed. Why was he so mad and so… sad? It was a stupid crush. It didn’t do anyone any good. It wouldn’t even work.

He got inside the establishment and went straight to the bartender, asking for a couple of drinks. Fuck wanting to be sober, tonight he wanted to get completely wasted, maybe the alcohol would numb him enough to forget the stupid, useless, annoying- The bartender put the drinks in front of him, a mix drink and a couple shots. Gregory shove down the mixed drink in one sitting, hiccupping as he finished and placing the glass down. He then went for one shot but before he could drink it as if it was water Remy grabbed the drink and drank it.

-Hey!- Gregory shouted.

-You hypocrite, little shit! I knew you still had it!- Remy said as he took a sit next to Gregory in a fit of giggles.

-I’m not in the fucking mood, ok? Stop drinking my shit- Gregory grabbed one shot and drank it.

Remy was taken aback. –Geez, who pissed on your cereal?-

-No one, shut up.- He said as he asked for another drink.

-Sorry, but I don’t believe your lying ass. Come on. Lay it on me. Who am I beating up tomorrow?- Remy said it as he wave his hand in his neck as to sign the bartender to not give his friend more drinks.

Gregory had said he wanted to stay sober, and Remy respects that decision and his new life even if he can be an ass about it, but suddenly looking at his friend having a slip out won’t do at all. He is not letting Gregory drown tonight.

-No one… It’s just…- Gregory slammed his head into the bar and sighed. –I like someone… but he is going on a date now with someone else-

-Oh! Fuck no!! Where is he? I can beat him up right now!- Remy said standing up.

-It doesn’t matter! He is way older than me! Of course he wouldn’t like me!- Gregory shouted as he grabbed the other shot he had asked.

-Wha- Ok. I’ll need a bit of context- Remy said sitting down. –From the beginning, who is this guy?- He took Gregory’s shot before he could drink it, Gregory laid his head on the bar.

-…Remember when… I got caught up?- Gregory asked shyly.

-Ugh… Yeah… That fucking asshole was persistant…kind of hot though… What about him?- Remy looked at his friend as he drank the shot.

Gregory was blushing and kept staring at Remy in hopes he didn’t had to spit out to the gossiper. Remy then had the realization struck him like a bullet in the chest.

-OH. My fucking. GOD! Are you kidding?! YOU FELL FOR HIM?!- Remy didn’t want to laugh but he thought it was a hilarious and kind of cute thing to happen to his friend. –Dude, that guy looked like he could be your dad. Holy shit! He could have been your sugar daddy!-

Gregory looked mortified by that implication. –No! God dammit, Rem. Leave me alone!-

-I’m kidding, Greg!- Remy stood up and grabbed Gregory’s collar - Come on, we’re leaving. Drowning your feelings with this doesn’t have a very glamorous end. -

Before Gregory could protest, he got dragged out of the bar by Remy. Both started walking towards an apartment building, passing by a well-lit café. They enter the building and head upstairs to get to Remy’s floor, once they got to the apartment he left Gregory in the sofa. It was full of blankets and pillows; it looked like Remy’s sleeping spot.

Gregory looked around, the walls were a deep purple and they were covered in posters. The kitchen, where Remy was getting something from, was clean but looked kind of empty, his friend didn’t had many dishes apparently. There was only 2 doors; he assume one was Remy’s bedroom and the other the bathroom. In front of him there was a TV screen connected to a laptop. That place look way better than the last place Remy was staying, hopefully it was like this when he moved in and didn’t stole money to renovate it.

-Ok, what you need right now- Remy’s voice startle Gregory. –Some nice tea, the way you like it- He gives the warm cup to the hero. –And to throw shade at this guy-

Gregory snorted. –What?-

-That’s what I do when I meet fucking idiots. It’s a good vent- Remy said as he flop in the couch, some of the tea spilled.

Gregory wouldn’t actually… “throw shade” at anyone as a way to vent. He wouldn’t even vent at all, sometimes he and Virgil would talk but it’s Virgil who usually speaks since Gregory believes the young adult has too much in his head and sometimes fears it might explode. But right now, he was a little drunk and he trusted Remy… Sort of. So what the hell?

-You know? I really love it when he re-explains something I already know for the fourth time- Gregory sipped his tea.

Remy got comfier and hold a pillow, smiling wildly. This was going to be an entertaining night.

Logan got to the café in time. He looked around for any sign of this Patton person, but he didn’t recognize anyone. He decided to sit down in an empty table, not ordering anything yet. The place was really pretty, the atmosphere was relaxing. Smooth jazz was playing in the background, while the chatting of people sharing experiences filled the place. In a corner there was a group of young adults listening to another person recite poetry. Logan was intrigue, he didn’t know people still do that. He had always loved to read it and to even write down poems of his own…

Huh… When was the last time he sat down and wrote poetry…? When was the last time he sat down and wrote anything that wasn’t work?

-Hmm… Guess I’ve let myself overwork…- Logan thought.

-Hi!- He heard a happy and overjoyed greeting.

Logan look up to see a man who was wearing a button up light blue shirt, the sleeves were folded up to the elbow, and a pair of dark khakis. He could recognize the glasses and the messy dark golden hair, and, of course, the eyes. Deep blue eyes like the sea. His face was covered in freckles and the smile could melt the coldest of hearts.

The hero was distracted by how handsome the other man was that he didn´t notice Patton was talking. He also might have stared at him for way too long.

-Ehem… Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.- Logan said embarrassed and blushing.

Pattong giggled. –I asked if you waited for too long-

-No! No, I just got here a few minutes ago- Logan said, stumbling on his words. –I…Should we order anything…?-

-Sure! Let’s go!- Patton went for Logan’s hand, holding it tightly and dragging the man with him.

It was really shocking, it frankly startled the hero but it was… Kind of endearing? Once they finished ordering some coffee (black for Logan and a caramel frapuccino for Patton, as well as jelly filled pastries) they went back to sit. Logan didn’t know how to begin the conversation, this was really a big step out of his comfort zone. Not only that, Patton was… dreamy… (Is that the correct term?)

-So…uhm…- Patton’s voice, once again, startle Logan, breaking the silence between them. –I read in your… profile you like Edgar Allan Poe…?- He asked timidly.

Logan lit up at the naming of one of his favorite authors. –Y-yes. I enjoy his writings, specially The Tell-tale Heart. I find them quite fascinating. Have you read any of his works?-

Patton looked at Logan attentive, smiling while listening. Then, when the question pop up, he was taken aback.

–I… Did…?-

Logan tilted his head and stared confused at Patton who was smiling shyly. A sigh was left by the man.

-I tried. To be honest I only manage to read one to impress you!- Patton started to blush, Logan sat straight and looked perplex at the other man.

–I-I mean… I wanted to know… About the stories so I could get an idea of who you were- Patton smiled and chuckled nervously, but then his smile fade. –I’m sorry… this is awkward isn’t it? It’s been a while since I went out to meet new people…-

Logan stare at Patton, not meaning to last for so long. It was difficult to believe the bubbly and happy man in front of him had a hard time talking to him. Suddenly, relief wash over him.

-It’s alright. I’m not the best at socializing either. If we are talking about honesty, I… well… I came today because my son actually made me- Patton looked surprise which Logan translate as a bad sign.

–N-Not that I didn’t wanted to meet you! I-I don’t like to meet people in general! I-I mean- His wording was getting messier as the other man stared at him, not angry at all, but very amused.

Patton smiled widely and let out a loud chuckle, taking Logan by surprise. Both were blushing profusely, the man’s laughter was contagious and made Logan want to chuckle as well.

-That’s so sweet! Your son was probably worried you’d die alone or something- Patton giggled but paused looking for some sort of negative reaction, Logan let out a chuckle.

-Yeah, I do believe that. He tends to worry too much sometimes. He cares too much- Logan chuckle.

Patton smiled kindly. –How old is he?-

-19. He is really smart, a very remarkable young man. He wants to be a doctor- Logan smiled lightly, he loved his son with all his heart and wouldn’t change him for the world. He would do anything for him. The hero’s train of thought came to a stop when he saw Patton’s eyes low, his smile seem sad.

-Is everything alright?- Logan asked in a concern tone.

-Y-yeah! I’m fine, it’s just… Heh… My son would have been the same age as yours…-

The teacher was taken aback by that answer. –I-I’m so sorry… I- He really didn’t know what to say. Patton compose himself.

-It’s fine! I’m fine. It was a long time ago- His smile was bright but it seem rather forced, Logan didn’t want to press him, especially when they barely know each other.

-Um… So… W-what story did you read?- That’s the only thing the teacher could think about.

Patton look up confused but then remembered. –Right. The Pot guy-

-Poe- Logan corrected

-Poe! Right, right! Umm…It was something about… a red masque?-

-Oh! The Masque of the Red Death. That’s an interesting one-

-Interesting, yes. I don’t like the prince at all though. He is really selfish and awful- Patton said with annoyance in his voice.

-Well, wouldn’t you tried to keep yourself alive in any way possible? I do not commend his actions but I can understand where the prince comes from though- He said as he took a sip of his coffee.

-He was supposed to be there for his people! What kind of prince does that? He deserve his end- Patton said in a cold manner. –Selfish people don’t deserve forgiveness- he mumbled.

-That is rather harsh, don’t you think?- Logan said, curious as to why Patton would say that.

-W-well… Selfish people harm others, why would they deserve any kindness?- Patton hold his drink.

Logan stayed silent for a bit, sipping on his coffee while thinking. –Sometimes people act selfishly when they don’t know any better-

Patton hummed as he sipped his coffee. –You know? If everyone were good… If everyone followed the simple rule of being kind and good to others there wouldn’t be so much evil… -

Logan raised an eyebrow, getting really into the conversation. –There has to be a balance. If there’s good, there will be bad-

-But it shouldn’t be that way, it shouldn’t be this… Rancid. Being good is so easy! Look at all the heroes who help! It’s easy!- Patton smiled, but it was… a weird smile. Logan notice how passionate Patton was getting, the energy was contagious.

-It is easy, but some people need a little push to be good. They need to be set in the correct path- The teacher said as he placed the coffee down in a calm manner.

-What if they don’t change though? Some people can’t change. You can’t leave them out there to do evil- Patton was using the straw to mix his drink.

-What do you suggest we do with those people then?- Logan was really curious.

-Easy. You have to force them to be good!- Patton said nonchalantly.

Logan was perplex. He was surprised by that kind of answer. –How exactly?-

Patton drank his beverage, his eyes were low. –Well… You know… Like brainwash?- Logan blink in surprise and then a laugh was let out. Patton didn’t expect that reaction at all.

-That’s an aggressive way to change the world- Logan took a deep breath trying to compose himself. –Drastic, as well.-

-…Drastic measures for drastic situations.- Patton said softly.

-Sure. But… I’d rather take the patient route. I believe people just need some help finding the good path for themselves. I’ve seen others change for the better and for the worst. That’s how life is. You can’t force others to change like that, even if it were for the greater good- Logan sip his coffee.

Patton stayed silent as he drink his beverage, staring at Logan with fondness. He knew his ideas were crazy and extreme, and being listened by someone else who doesn’t insult him on the spot was a nice change of pace.

-This is really fun- Patton exclaim, Logan look up –It’s been a while since I throw weird ideas out there. Thanks for listening to my silly rants- He chuckled

-It’s no problem at all. I believe your ideas are extreme, but they aren’t silly as you put it.- Logan smiled shyly.

Patton felt like melting at that moment. Both men drank their own beverages in silence, letting the sounds from the place fill the atmosphere. It’s been while since any of them had a moment to just be, even if it was sharing it with someone they barely knew, it was nice.

-What do you do for a living?- Logan asked all of the sudden.

-Oh! I work at a vet clinic! I love animals a lot. What about you?- Patton asked

-I teach at a university. Physics and Calculus- Logan answered.

-Oooh! Calculus is kind of hard. I failed it once and now I can’t go to the woods- Patton sipped his beverage sheepishly.

Logan was really confused. –What? What do you mean?-

-Yeah, it just… There’s too many natural logs for my liking-

The vet smiled widely, biting the straw from the excitement while the teacher stared at the man not knowing whether to smile or groan. He had to admit, it was clever. The teacher smiled and slapped a hand to his forehead. Hearing Patton’s giggles were the best sound he has ever heard.

-Awww, what’s the matter? You can’t take some derivative humor?-

Logan snorted and tried to hide the smile. The jokes were terrible, god, they were awful, but Patton’s sheepish smile and demeanor was so sweet, he genuinely seem to enjoy those types of jokes.

Before they could continue their conversation a loud bang startle everyone in the café. Logan look out the window and saw how debris from cars were going to their direction. He quickly hold Patton’s hand and drag him down the table, pieces of metal crashed into the window. Logan was covering Patton with himself, Patton was startle by the broken glass but got distracted by how close Logan was to him. Logan listened and waited for any sign of danger, there was maniac laughter coming from outside.

-HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THAT?!- the voice yelled

-GOD DAMMIT, DUKE! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO TELL ME BEFORE DYNAMITING THE WHOLE PLACE!?- Another voice yelled, they had the same accent, Logan notice certain similarities in their tones.

He look out and saw both man wearing masquerades, one had a black with silver outfit and the other was wearing white and gold. Both were holding huge bags of what the hero assume were stolen property, he had to stop them. Logan looked at Patton, now realizing how close he was to the other man, his deep blue eyes staring at him. For a moment he thought he saw a weird flash of color in his eyes but it might have been his imagination.

-I-I… Sorry! A-are you alright?- Logan asked really embarrassed, helping Patton to stand up.

-Yeah! Um… Wow, you got really fast reflexes- He chuckled nervously.

Both man stood up there while the rest of the people went outside in a panic. Both villains notice the commotion; the black and silver villain was getting ready to impose fear in others but his comrade hold him from the neck and drag him towards a car.

-We should… Probably leave too… Who knows what The Duke and The Prince would do next…- Patton said nervously chuckling.

“The Duke and The Prince…” Logan thought for a moment. He had heard of the duet of villains stealing and doing destruction around the city, mainly from Bright Raven and Flow, although there were previous reports from other heroes from different cities claiming this pair was going from city to city causing a lot of troubles before vanishing. To be a pair of attention seeking jerks, they were really good at disappearing without a trace. Not one single hero manage to get as close as to know their identities, their operations, HELL! Not even a single exact location of their base. They are a weird kind of nomad villain. As interesting keeping track of them while they do their destructive mess would be, Logan couldn’t let them get away.

-I think we need to cut our date short, I’m afraid- Logan tell Patton who looked at him.

-O-Oh… Alright- Patton seemed disappointed and a bit sad.

-W-We could do this another time!- Another time? Another time?! Logan practically yelled the request.

-I would really love that! Let me give you my number!- Patton extended his hand but then retreated it. –Wait… You already have it- He smiled and giggled.

Logan couldn’t resist to smile as well. Both got out of the establishment and went towards Patton’s car.

-It was really nice meeting you Logan. I hope you are ready for me spamming you!-

Logan sighed. –If what you are spamming are puns, I might as well block you already- said in a monotone, even though he meant it as a joke.

-O-Oh…-

-I apologize, I meant it as a joke. Feel free to contact me at any suitable time- Logan smiled kindly trying to mend his error. Patton responded by a surprised “Oh” and a smile.

-I’ll await your phone call, teach.-

With that Patton enter his car and Logan watch as he drove off. He smiled to himself and thought how lovely it would be to meet him again, even though the idea makes him really anxious. Tonight was a complete disaster after all. Well… It wasn’t until the literal disasters Duke and Prince came. Logan got a phone out and pressed a single button after looking around to see if there were any bystanders.

-Green Wonder. Syllogism here. I need back up in pursuing the villains known as The Duke and The Prince. Send any close hero to my location-

Prologue/ CH 1/ CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6

Finally my boi Logan has less work and more social stuff.... man... This is gonna be fun. Prepare to cry though.

TAG LIST:

@thatweriddoodlingllama @kaimariethebi @potato–justpotato @enderperson43

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cthulhubert · 5 years

Text

Thoughts, not even a review, of Terra Ignota

recently finished Will to Battle.

(Book 3 of Terra Ignota, preceded by Too Like the Lightning and Seven Surrenders. The sequel and finale, Perhaps the Stars, is expected in 2021.)

So I wanted to post some thoughts, not even a review, really.

The take away is that despite many of its major, fundamental features leaving me cold or even actively repulsing me, I overall very much enjoyed reading it.

This is perhaps a higher recommendation than unalloyed praise. The more I like something, the more I complain. For one thing, it's a kind of eustress: the perfect thing has no flaws to catch interest; for another, if I just plain dislike something, I wouldn't spare much thought on it to begin with, much less linearize so many of them into words.

So my mostly negative venting (consisting of immediate and thorough spoilers) beneath the cut

So right off the bat: I HATE the genius serial killer trope; and I detest SFF trolley problem analogs.

I was so irritated by the one-two punch of these big reveals in the first book that I actually let my hold on Seven Surrenders and read several other books in the interim. (I knew I'd be back though, I put a new one on both 2 and 3 next.)

Mycroft Canner... one who believes themself "free" merely because they can kill. It reminds me of something that's stuck in my mind for a long time: a guy calling other peoples cucks because they used alarm clocks to wake up. "I can't believe you let a machine boss you around."

Because I otherwise liked the writing so much, I kept trying to dredge up another layer of meaning to the treatment of Mycroft as torturer-rapist-murderer. For instance: "Oh, so many people around him being sympathetic and liking him is actually the narrative sneakily reminding us that the core trait of serial killers like this is a manipulative personality, which his savant abilities would only feed." Carlyle Foster even brings this up specifically in the scene where we first learn the specifics of Canner's crimes, but of course, their portrayal in that scene (which, reminder, is literally by Mycroft) is of one hysterical and unreasonable.

Palmer did achieve one of most author's highest goals in emotionally transporting me to one of their scenes, but it just really made me wish I was in Carlyle's shoes. To react with, rather than panic, the cold disdain merited by a creature so broken it is wrong about the ways in which it is broken. To spit on them and denigrate their feelings of uniqueness and specialness, arising both from the murders and from their oh so pitiable martyrdom and servitude now. "If only we could mercifully lobotomize away your personality and still use the savanthood modules so unfortunately stapled to them."

Mycroft: "Everybody seems to have one murder they thought was the worst. I thought yours would be []" Me instead of Carlyle, snidely: "Is that a fun game for you, that speculation?"

(In another scene, the Major's sympathy to Mycroft and Saladin as "fellow killers" somewhat raised my hackles; my experience is military people expressing exaggerated disgust for "civilian" killers, perhaps as a way of mental separation between their acts. Though the revelation that the Major is Achilles, with an ancient's attitudes, perhaps ameliorates this.)

As for OS... if you've invented prophecy, there will be heaps upon myriads upon multitudes of miraculous ways to reshape the world before you reach a best value intervention of cold-blooded murder. I was, at least, amused by considering the linear combination of this limitation between the author and the characters. Palmer was quite clever in making sure that the mystical demographic math must be facilitated by humans (and the very odd set-set humans at that).

I admit I hold this philosophy a bit more strongly than my time investment in the fields merit, but I see it this way:

In physics, infinite, friction-less planes in perfect vacuums occupied by inelastic, spherical cows are a useful tool. They approximate things that are theoretically possible, absent the various extra forces.

In ethics, and in any system that is so truly complex, everything you remove makes for a completely different system. None of the elements are basically orthogonal to the circumstances the way air resistance is to a bullet.

These philosophical sorts of thought experiments are, at best, emotional exercises. They are not simplified tools to build a foundation for more complex issues, they're figments born of the phantasmal conditions possible only in the interior of the brain, and too much work with them will only foul both logic and intuition with garbage data.

As for what merely fell flat:

While I deeply enjoyed so much of the speculation about cultural changes brought about by technology, and travel technology specifically, the "no proselytizing" law felt quite forced. I can definitely believe such a law would be passed after the Church Wars described, but holding so strong for centuries?

There are all kinds of supernatural thoughts and beliefs people accept, and there simply isn't a neat threshold between those and religion. Even in the counterfactual world where there was one, it would be quite concealed by the sophistry that's metastasized through the entire discussion space around it.

I can think of a dozen questions off the top of my head that they'd have to decide. And while flipping a coin or an attempt at a definitional framework could answer them, it couldn't do it in a way that's strong enough to stand the test of time. Imagine Laurel/Yanny, the Dress, or if a hot dog is a sandwich, but with material-security level of investment in them!

I'm areligious (to put it... mildly) but for personal, psychosocial reasons, when I sit down to eat I spend a moment in mindful gratitude towards the plants and animals that gave their life for mine. Is that religious? Are ghost hunter shows illegal because they're proselytory for any animistic religion? Would acupuncturists be able to work, or is that a daoist superstition? Could my neighbor's still paint the ceiling of their porch haint blue? Are scientists allowed to register trials for psychic powers? Can schools teach the arguments for dualism?

That doesn't even get into the subjects that, in real life, yank out all the stops on linguistic-conceptual inventiveness! Europe has had a pestilential outbreak of sophistry around head scarves! Would the Alliance ban them for being religious garb? If so, would they ban clothing that covers the ankles as Calvinist religious garb? Or that covers the nipples? (Oh wait, showing the nipples is of significance in some religions! can't allow that!) Should they ban clothing that contains unmixed fibers for being a religious display!? They don't seem to do any of these things, but that's just as much a choice about the First Law as doing so.

Someone proposes personhood begins at conception; I claim that this is fundamentally a supernaturalist belief. Is one of us in violation of the first law? If a hive outlaws birth control, how are they investigated for whether this is a cultural or religious condition? What happens when, I dunno, a Cousin run campus has somebody that wants to put Intelligent Design in the biology textbooks? Most people (well including the people pushing it) know that it's religion wrapped in plausibly deniable words. So is that proselytizing, or is someone pointing it out proselytizing atheism?

Speaking of, there's a pretty good correlation of peace and prosperity with movement to non-religioun. It honestly doesn't seem like sensayers should have much work.

But we meet Bridger and his miracles right at the beginning of the book, before we know a thing about the Church Wars etc. And it's obviously a central tension of the story, intended to be coequal with the brewing war, and yet it quite failed to rouse my interest. The book would've been stronger without it.

Perhaps this *is* just a me thing, since my mind has held miraculous intervention as a solved problem for most of my life. If I were convinced of an event's miraculous character, the most parsimonious explanation is in the vein of, "We're in a simulation that's only been running for a week or so, either as a game or as an experiment, and now we're running under different rules than the ones our (artificial) memories imply." The probability of that happening is too low to waste time processing any other ramifications or possibilities ahead of time.

There is another, related layer of enjoyable consideration, which is of course the reliability of the narrator and his evidence. In Will to Battle, our author is revealed as explicitly delusional, suffering regular, presumably PTSD (and/or anti-sleep drug) related hallucinations. I wish I'd had the patience to do a very close read, or to do a second read—especially given the revelation that 9A edited some of the delusions out of the first two books. Diegetic skepticism is a regular part of the narrative. And there are lots of "rhymes" in the text to mundane circumstances. We're told Bridger looks like Apollo and Seine, and shown the artificial, parentless children, Ganymede and Danaë (crafted to be such a degree of hyperstimulus that among other things, Ganymede has an entire school of art dedicated to him). We're shown that perceptions are malleable, with Thisbe's "witchcraft" and Cato's magician like showmanship. We're constantly exposed to griffincloth and know that just its presence at JEDD's assassination spread skepticism. We're told that scientists proclaim Achilles to have Ancient Greek DNA and an adult's bone structure, but we're also constantly shown an incredible variety of artificial animals and related wonders, and told Apollo was a great scientist.

And yet, over and over the narrative rebukes skepticism. 9A endorses most of what Mycroft has written, and if we go so far as considering them (along with, eg, the officialese headings and warnings) as Mycroft's delusions too, we're at the point where we have to step back so far that the unreliable narrator is actually this "Ada Palmer" character, who is writing about things that don't exist in a year we haven't reached yet!

I was bothered that nobody who learned about it seemed ready to express the proper amount of disgust at the extra-incestuous politics of the world leaders, and honestly find it simply hard to accept that their consortium worked so altruistically.

Finally, ultimately, the central themes of the novel, about peace and war and complacency seem awfully poorly considered for the current era, where voting age children have never known a world without an official war, and the just grown generation is the first since the industrial revolution to be poorer and less healthy and more stressed than their parents. Not just this novel, but the world in general seems to be sorely missing the concept of the important qualitative differences between distress and eustress.

#terra ignota #pls share your thoughts if you disagree I'm bored

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probably-writing-x · 5 years

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Just thought you should know (Prequel)

Request from my fave @bringmethehorizonandpizza : alright, but a super angsty prequel of just thought you should know, where they break up!! would you do it? pretty please? 💖💖💖💖

~~~

There had been an odd atmosphere around this place for the past few days - everyone seemed to be treading on eggshells around you and it constantly put you on edge. These boys were hiding something.

"Hey boys!" You smile as you waltz into your apartment where Harry and Sam had currently set up camp on the couch for the day, "What are you still doing here?"

"We thought we could have a movie day!" Sam calls back to you but you can see straight through his nonchalant nature.

"We had movie day yesterday," You roll your eyes, "And, anyway, Haz isn't even home yet s-"

You see both of them simultaneously wince at your words as soon as Harrison - your boyfriend of two years - was mentioned.

"What? What was that weird thing you just did?" You question, walking cautiously over to the twins.

"No... Nothing," Harry furiously shakes his head, curls spilling over his forehead wildly.

"Guys, come on. You've barely left this place all week and you're constantly checking up on me. What aren't you telling me?" You sigh, sitting down on the coffee table to face opposite them.

The boys exchange an uncomfortable look before Sam takes a big sigh.

"There's something we need to tell you, about Harrison," He admits, running a hand through his hair.

You sit in silence and let him proceed - a million possibilities running through your head.

"He's not exactly on a filming thing right now," Sam continues, "We told him to get away for a week or so,"

"What?" You laugh, "Why would you do that?"

Harry starts up again now, "Last week, all of us boys went out, right? Well... Harrison had a few too many to drink and ended up saying some things he definitely shouldn't have said,"

Your jaw clenches, "What did he say?"

The twins look between each other, mouths opening and closing but no words being expressed.

"What could he have said that was that bad?"

"He..." Sam takes a deep breath, "He said all of this stuff about how you two had been together for so much longer than he expected and that you made him wait so long for you two to... And that sometimes he wonders whether its worth the effort..."

The clench in your jaw changes to an overwhelming lump in your throat, one that has the power to make your bottom lip tremble a little.

"We're so sorry (Y/n/n)," Harry frowns, hand squeezing your knee in comfort, "We just thought you should know,"

"Yeah, yeah, no," You shake your head, forcing yourself to fake such confidence, "Hey, I'm glad you told me. And, you know, maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not worth the effort,"

"No, no, no," Both boys shake their head and come to sit either side of you, wrapping an arm around each shoulder and pulling you into a strong embrace.

"(Y/n) you're worth a thousand times the effort he gave you," Sam encourages, "Harrison, he just... He had too much to drink and he-"

"And he said what he felt," You mumble, finally letting the tears spill free down your cheeks - the kind of tears that wrack your body and make your shoulders shake like the whole world around you was clattering down.

~~~

The next day, Harry and Sam still hadn't left as they refused to leave you like this. You'd cried... A lot. You'd tried to eat but it all came back up pretty quickly and you hadn't got much sleep. But Harrison came home today, and it was your chance to face what you dreaded so much.

He knew something had happened. He knew the boys had told you and he was preparing for consequences... But not nearly this big.

With the twins opting to leave you two alone, it is just you and the boy you once promised you'd never stop loving.

"(Y/n) I-" Harrison begins, dropping his bag at the front door as he sees your state - cold, harsh, emotionless to him.

"Don't," You seethe, jaw clenching as you stand up from the couch to face him, "Don't start with an apology, start with a fucking explanation,"

"Baby I was drunk out of my mind!" He exclaims, "I don't even remember half of what I said and I sure as hell don't mean any of it, honestly,"

"Honestly?" You scoff, "You think I fucking trust you to be honest right now? And you don't remember what you said, then let me give you a little reminder.

"Babe please I-"

"How about telling the boys you wished you hadn't committed so much?" You step closer to him, "How about telling them you almost gave up just because I wouldn't give you the one thing you wanted? Or maybe the fact that you decided I'm not worth it?" Your words crack on that final part and you internally hit yourself for letting your emotions override this pure anger.

"Come on honey, you know that was all absolute bullshit!" He shakes his head, eyes following your every move as though he could decide your next response, "I was out of my mind and I was over thinking and I said some shit I didn't mean,"

You're close enough to him now that he can see the fury seeping from your moves, mixed with the worst feeling; disappointment.

"I thought," You begin, your voice calm and cautious, "I thought you could never, ever hurt me,"

Harrison clenches his jaw and fights back his building tears, "Don't say that," He's whispering now because the tears are threatening to spill and words will break the dam.

"I want you to leave. Just go and I'll pack up the things you've left here and get them to you soon," You sound so methodical that all emotion feels futile, "But I dont want to see you or hear from you, not for a while,"

"Darling, please," Harrison chokes and you watch as a tear falls down his cheek, still having to fight the desperate urge to wipe it away.

You look away and that's when he truly givea in to his feelings.

"No, no," He sounds angrier now, furious at himself for risking this, "I can't lose you. We can't give up on this,"

You feel cold, dried of all sympathy.

"I can't lose you," He repeats, "I can't lose you waking up and drawing silly imaginations in my chest," Harrison moves his hands to take yours, pressing a delicate kiss on each.

You watch his movements and stand rigid as he does.

"I can't lose you on Sundays when we've lost all our energy and we just want to cuddle until someone tells us we have to get up," His arms wrap around you and his face buries in the crook of your neck.

And for a moment, you really consider it. You think about being the forgiving one - telling him it's going to be okay and letting him kiss you, hold you, make love to you like everything is as it was. But every second takes you back to what he said. And you lose the possibility.

"It's time to go, Harrison," You pull his arms away from you and step back, arms retracting to cross over your chest as you realise you're now crying as well.

"Baby, please," He pleads once more, stepping forward to take your hands in his again, "I'll do anything, I'll make this better, I'll do whatever it takes to fix this mistake,"

You lift one hand away from his and cup the side of his face, thumb smoothing over his dampened cheek, "Maybe you're right," You pause and calculate your next words, "But actions don't take back what you said. And, Harrison, I can't afford to just be another one of your mistakes,"

And, with that, you drop your hands from his touch and walk away, retracting to your bedroom and crying endlessly against the closed door behind you. You don't know Harrison did the same outside of your apartment, slumped against the door like it was his last feeling of you.

What he didn't know was that, for the next six months, that really would be his last feeling of you...

~~~Four Months Later~~~

"Come on Tom you're playing like a rookie!" You exclaim, nudging him in the side to encourage him a bit more as the two of you competed in a Mario Kart team race.

His eyes are fixed on the screen but he doesn't seem aware as he drives straight off the edge.

"Dude!" You laugh, pausing the game, "Are you awake or?"

Tom shakes himself from his daze and looks at you, his eyes absent of their typical boyish joy.

"I-" He stops himself, "There's something I need to tell you, about Harrison,"

Oh damn. Those same words as his brother had spoken only months before. But what could possibly be worse than what you were told four months prior?

"What is it Tom?" You frown when he doesn't continue, "Wh- is he okay? Is he hurt?"

"Yeah, no, he's okay," Tom wipes his hands across his joggers, "He... Um, he got a girlfriend," He scratches at the back of his neck.

"Oh," You manage to respond, mentally kicking yourself for instantly worrying about Harrison instead of assuming something like this.

"It's only been for a couple of days but she's been at the apartment quite a bit. I thought I should tell you," He nods, hand reaching over to squeeze yours, "I'm sorry, (y/n/n),"

"What?" You scoff, with a gentle exasperated laugh, "You have nothing to apologise about. And, hey, I'm happy for him. He's moving on and that's a good thing. No need to keep thinking about something that's over, right?"

Your friend was evidently surprised by your strong response, "You don't need to-"

"No. No," You shake your head, "I'm good. I'm good, really. Let's carry on,"

He lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer before turning back to the screen.

You were fine. Apart from the ache in your chest and the empty feeling remaining from feeling your repairing heart shatter once again. The temporary plasters you'd placed on it couldn't withstand something like this. You were fine. Apart from that feeling like you were falling, through this couch with the hopes that Harrison would be there to catch you. You were fine. Apart from the spilling tears.

"Oh, love!" Tom sighs when he sees you crying beside him, "Please don't cry," He throws his controller to the side and engulfs you in his arms, pulling you to his chest and letting you soak him in emotion.

"I've lost him, T," You sob, "I've really lost him,"

~~~

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