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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 4 years ago

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i ain’t gonna face no defeat

in which alex was a figure skater.

word count: 2,916

some willex, juke if you squint

tw: occasional swearing, period-typical homophobic parents (q word is used as a slur exactly once)

———

“Cut off my circulation even more, why don’t you?” Alex grumbles, grabbing his arm away from his sister.

She rolls her eyes and nudges him as he adjusts the arm band. “Hey, feel lucky you’re even doing this. I don’t think Mom and Dad actually realize what you’re skating to.”

Alex hesitates and sucks on his teeth. “You think they’ll be mad?”

“Oh, they’ll be livid,” she deadpans, then smiles softly. “But they can’t stop you.” She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he leans over to pull on his boot covers. “I’m gonna head to the bleachers. Break a leg!”

Alex calls after her, not looking up, “That’s only for theater and you know it, Mel!”

A few minutes later, he’s called to the boards, and he can’t shake off his damn jitters. He knows he’ll be fine once the music starts, but right now his skate guard won’t come off and he really has to pee all of a sudden and oh my god why is he wearing a tank top when it’s so fucking cold—

Alex steps onto the ice, and the announcer calls his name while he glides into a stretch before taking his beginning pose. He ignores the way his arm, raised in a fist, is shaking while the beginning harmonies start to play, and he skates.

•••

Alex began figure skating when he was six. It was an odd situation, really; he didn’t care about doing it one way or another, and he would’ve been fine with not doing it since his parents would always say it was a girl’s sport. His little sister, Melanie, however, wanted to skate so badly, but with her being the four-year-old she was, she was terrified of doing it alone. Begrudgingly, his parents signed him up for lessons alongside her.

Much to their dismay, he was good. Like, really fucking good. He landed his first single jump after only two years, and his first axel after six. He managed to get height in a way that his coach’s other skaters didn’t; maybe it was the inner pent up anxiety making him bounce like a jumping bean, who knows.

Alex wasn’t just good at jumps, either; he got his Y-spin after four years. He was that kid on the ice who accidentally cut people off with an impeccable spiral. When he practiced his programs, the other kids would move towards the boards to give him room and sneak a glance.

As much as Alex liked the attention from his peers (god, that support system was something else), he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his parents never sat in on his sessions. They would only ever come to the shows and competitions his sister was a part of; he had to find his own ride to the others (thank god for Bobby's parents, honestly). It had made him angry at first that they didn’t want to be involved, but as he grew older, and learned more about himself, he realized he could use it to his advantage. He could skate to anything he wanted.

Alex was 13 when he chose to skate to Somebody to Love. To anyone else, it was very unassuming, just another kid skating to a popular song at the time, maybe even a tribute, since Freddie himself had passed two months before. It was everything to Alex, though. He pulled out all of the stops; his costume was the whole armband and wifebeater getup, and his coach let him assist in choreographing it.

He didn't know it was his last program.

•••

"Hey, Alex?"

He looks up from his math homework and hums in recognition.

Mel bites her lip and leans against the doorframe before mumbling, "I wanna quit."

Quit? Shit, nonononono— "—nonononono, Mel, you can't quit! If you quit, they're gonna make me quit!"

She closes the door softly behind her and walks slowly up to him. "Alex, the only reason I've been skating for the past year was so you could keep doing it. I'm really sick of skating at this point, and I wanna switch to something else. I'll keep going if you really, really want me to, but—" She sits next to him on his bed, lowering her voice to a whisper, "You saw how they reacted to the recital, 'Lex. You think they might make you quit anyway?"

Alex sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. She's right, he knows she's right. It just fucking sucks.

He tilts his head back. "You can quit," he whispers.

Mel places her hand on his and squeezes, whispering back, "I'm sorry." Alex looks back down at her. "I really with there was something we could do, but there isn't," she continues, recollecting her hand. "At least your last program was a good one."

He gives her a sad chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so. And, I'll have more time to focus on the band. Luke'll be happy about that."

Mel rolls her eyes, takes a breath, and leaves Alex to his own devices with a pitying look.

If she hears him practicing the beat to Somebody to Love in the basement the night she officially quits, she doesn't say anything.

•••

"Julie, what are you doing up there?"

Julie throws a shoe over the wall of the loft and into the evergrowing pile on the floor. "Cleaning out all of your old junk. Which one of you had a magician phase?" she asks, holding up a cheap, ratty top hat and matching plastic wand. "It was Reggie, wasn't it?"

Alex chuckles to himself, poofing up next to Julie. "Why do you think he knew who Caleb was when we met him?"

Julie lets out a loud laugh, continuing her digging. "Are the other guys here?"

"Nah, they're looking for a gig. I just got back from the park," Alex answers.

“Just the park?” Julie asks sarcastically, and before Alex can retort, she adds on, standing up straight, “Hey, whose skates are these?”

She’s holding his old figure skates in her right hand.

The black fabric is a little faded, with the familiar scuffs still on the toe. His dark blue skate guards are all dusty, but the blades still somehow look intact, given there wasn’t much opportunity for water damage in a loft.

Alex scratches the back of his neck, ignoring the rising blush in his cheeks and bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. “Those, uh, those are mine, actually.”

Julie looks up from the boots at him in awe. “Whoa, you skated? That’s so cool!”

Alex drops his hand, mouth open in hesitation. “Really? It’s not... weird to you?”

He can recall a tight grip on his arm, firmer than the band that had been ripped off. "Alex, what made you think it was okay to pull off this kind of stunt? You don't want people thinking you're some kind of queer, do you? Why we've let you continue this is beyond me, it isn’t any good for you.”

“Why would it be weird?” Julie asks, quirking her head to the side in such a Julie way that Alex would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried.

He shrugs, shuffling his feet from side to side, and mumbles with a wince, “I don’t know, because I’m a guy and figure skating is like, a girly sport, I guess?”

Julie shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed with a soft smile on her face. “First off, it’s not inherently girly, and second, if it’s something that you enjoyed, then that’s what matters, right?”

“I guess so,” Alex replies, looking down at his sneakers. Is that all that matters, though? He pauses for a moment in debate, then adds on at Julie’s encouraging expression, “My parents made me quit when I was fourteen.” He takes a breath. “They were never that involved in it, though, they actually only let me because my sister did it. I, uh, after I skated to a Queen song in a full Freddie Mercury getup, they weren’t too happy, and made me quit.”

At some point in his spiel, Julie had put her hand on his shoulder, and now she was squeezing it before pulling him into a hug. “Your parents are stupid,” she mumbled into his chest.

Alex chuckles, something emotionless, a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah. They were.”

Julie pulls away with a gasp, a bright smile on her face. “We should all go skating this weekend! The public rink just opened up a couple weeks ago, and I can bring Flynn so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself—” she falters, cutting herself off, “I mean, if you’re cool with it. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alex thinks back to his many (many) practice sessions, and remembers the feeling of finally getting that move right, of flying in the air for that one glorious millisecond, of seeing some of his closest friends every other day. He misses it, of course he misses it. It was his biggest outlet before he focused all of his attention on drumming. But, he can’t help but feel that stupid fucking guilt clawing at his throat, can’t help but imagine oh, so clearly the look of betrayal on his mother’s face the night he came out.

Then again, he had lived the rest of his life out of spite of his parents. Why not keep it going?

“That sounds really fun,” he replies, pulling her back in. “Thank you.”

•••

A world sans Caleb was a new one to Willie. However, it was also a very welcome one, because it was in this world that he was able to just relax with Alex in the studio, enjoying every second they spend together without worrying about the time running out.

Which is why he was (reasonably) surprised when the time ran out.

They throw Alex an impressively offended look as he removed his arm from behind their shoulder. “What?”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Willie scoffed.

Alex chuckles to himself, pressing his lips into a line. "As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle with you—" At that, Willie's face goes bright red, and Alex counts it as a win in his head, "—the band and I are going ice skating when Flynn gets here, which should be in about five minutes."

"Oh," Willie's face brightens as they reply, "sounds fun!"

Alex winces. "Yeah, making sure Luke doesn't accidentally become tangible and run over a seven-year-old while playing human bowling on the ice with Reggie is super fun." Willie laughs something golden in response, and Alex only hesitates for a moment before adding on, "Uh- actually, would you want to come with us?"

Willie grows soft, still getting used to finally being included, but quickly schools his expression before replying, "Yeah, I'd love to! Though, fair warning, I'm kind of only good at the one kind of skating?"

Alex quickly scrunches his nose. "That's fine, I'll help you," he offers, slowly untangling himself from Willie.

Willie isn't sure how much help he's really gonna be, but they figure even an amateur would be better than whatever the fuck kind of Bambi creature he is on the ice, so they nod and pull Alex up by his hand off the couch.

•••

They arrived to the rink a few minutes ago, and while Julie and Flynn are buying their rental skates and Luke, Reggie, and Willie attempt to steal some without being noticed, Alex laces up his own skates by himself on an open bench.

It isn't until after he yanks the last bow that he realizes— putting on those skates should not have been that easy.

Yeah, their clothes are usually easy to put on, and they can summon their instruments any time they want, but touching anything else usually takes an immense amount of focus. Hell, the dahlia pin Julie had bought Luke for his guitar strap took five tries to actually hook on rather than just drop to the ground.

And yet, his skates just— went on? Laced up with no problem? His foot didn't go through the sole even once? He wiggles his toes around inside the boot, and only feels the familiar push of fabric against them.

He decides not to question it, to not think about the implications of his skates possibly being attached to his soul, and tries to avoid yet another afterlife crisis as they walk toward the boards. Or, at least, he walks, while Luke just bolts onto the ice with no hesitation, and Reggie quickly follows. Alex falls back behind Julie and Flynn, who step onto the ice and begin gliding around, and Willie somehow finds their way next to him, grabbing onto his hand. They make it to the door, and Willie lets go with a small nudge to the shoulder. "Alright, hotdog, show me what you've got," he jokes.

Alex lets out a small laugh and steps out onto the ice, a weird feeling of deja-vu settling into his nonexistent bones. Once he gathers his bearings, he glides along before maneuvering closer to the middle of the ice and pulling himself into a scratch spin. It takes him a minute to really center the spin, but with the phantom tingling of blood rushing to the tips of his fingers before he pulls in completely, suddenly it's 1990 and he's doing his Lacrimosa program and he wants to try to land every jump he's ever learned, even though he knows that trying his axel right now is a horrible idea, and—

He's exited the spin now, looking back at the door to see Willie about a foot away from it, gripping the wall with a concerning amount of intensity, an odd combination of fear, shock, and something else (awe, maybe?) coming to rest on their face. He skates back over, and Willie's expression doesn't seem to change. "You—" they swallow, "—you can skate."

Alex slides his feet back and forth, his arms behind his back. "Yeah, I figure skated for eight years, actually. Did, did I not mention that?" he asks, smirking a little, knowing damn well he very much never mentioned that.

Willie closes his eyes, sucks on his teeth, and takes a breath, getting over their minor bluescreen moment. "Help me?"

"In order for me to help you, you need to let go of the boards," Alex responds. Willie looks at the boards, then back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "It'll hurt a lot more falling into two flat surfaces rather than one," Alex reasons, and Willie hesitates before finally letting go.

"There we go," Alex says softly, taking both of Willie's hands in his. He begins to slowly pull them along, not caring about passing through lifers, while Willie's feet slip and slide beneath him. Alex tries his hardest not to laugh, and Willie quips, "I thought I was supposed to be the athletic one."

Alex scoffs, "Who told you that? Are you the one lugging around an entire drumset every weekend?" At Willie's laugh, Alex tacks on, "I didn't think so."

They make a full lap around the rink before Alex lets go, having to prevent Luke and Reggie from pulling on some little girl’s milk boxes to make her go faster, because no, that’s not how physics works, and yes, people will notice, Luke.

After, Willie moves to get off at the boards, and Alex pulls a disappointed pout. Willie just motions toward the ice, saying, "I know you didn't just come here to pull me around the whole time, I wanna see your turns and stuff."

Alex hesitates, "But I don't want to leave you here by yourself—"

He’s cut off by a familiar harmony playing in the background, and Luke and Reggie poof by his side in an instant. Alex barely has any time to register it before Reggie is putting a hand on his shoulder and Luke is asking if he’s okay.

And Alex doesn’t know how to answer that right away, if he’s being honest. At first, he thinks he might not be, because all he remembers is scolding, leaving, hiding, but he reminds himself it’s 2020 and he’s a ghost; that his parents are as involved in what was left of his life now as they were when he came out— not at all. The feeling of freedom starts to envelope him; the same freedom as when he danced with Dirty Candy at Eat ‘n’ Beats, the same freedom as when he played the drums at the Orpheum, and the same freedom he had before his last recital. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex replies, trying to hide his newfound itching to just get back out there.

Reggie drops his hand from his shoulder with a smile; meanwhile, Luke catches notice of Julie and Flynn starting a mini snow fight, to which he immediately races over and shouts, “I want in!” Reggie just shrugs and poofs over. Whether to stop him or join, the world may never know.

Alex rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics and looks back over at Willie, anxious energy seemingly radiating off of him— except, not as it usually does; now it was more excitement than anything else.

“Go show off, Alex,” Willie says, shooting him away with a smile.

Alex unsuccessfully tries to suppress the overwhelming giddy feeling that rises in his chest, and he skates. Again.

Finally.

#i ain’t gonna face no defeat fic #jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willex #willie jatp #jatp fic #willex fic #mari writes #my fic #my fics

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bumackerman · 4 years ago

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DEAR ADULT READERS/CREATORS,

18+ (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

^ see that? there is absolutely no way you missed that disclaimer if you understand the proper way to read english. but, let’s say you did miss it... here’s this message;

if you are under the age of 18, do not interact with 18+ adult accounts, or content.

there. hopefully you got the memo. if not, then i guess, one day, you’ll have the great opportunity to be featured in this brand new series of exposing, purging, and reporting minors! i mean... yay you?

disclaimer!; do not send any unnecessary hate to any of these people! it does not solve anything, and it could get you in trouble. just report, and block. thanks.

featured today, we have (drumroll please)... @/matching-with-my-demons!

warning: this post is very long!

alright, so i don’t actually know for sure if he’s necessarily a minor, but i do know that he’s been lying his age, and many, many other details about his life, leading to him getting caught by yours truly.

from this point forward, i will be reciting a briefed account of what exactly happened from a collective point of view of all of the victims involved.

I. beginning.

so, (and i think all of the people involved can agree,) this person is a flirt. automatically. just giving everyone pet names, talking about doing stuff with us, role playing with us, you know. nothing too extreme. i wasn’t suspicious of him at this point. i mean, i was sure he was 18+. to be fair, he did mention that he was 21 turning 22. why wouldn’t we believe him? he was speaking like an adult.

II. little lies & suspicion.

now, i’m not saying that this is impossible, but at multiple times during our conversations, he’d mentioned that he was was fluent in seven languages. seven. it’s not entirely impossible, but you’d think that if english wasn’t someone’s first (of many) languages, they’d have some sort of accent, right?

not only that, but he stated that he was six years old when he moved to america from japan, and he hasn’t moved since. i know, i know, yeah, cool he knows a lot of languages, and he’s a foreigner. yadda, yadda. get to the point.

he said that he was of asian descent, and that his parents were both japanese, and they lived in japan their whole lives. where the hell is he learning all of these extra languages at the young age of 21?

if japanese is his first language, we can cut out the time needed to become fluent in it. next, i’m ignoring english, as he would’ve had from the age of 6 to 21 to become fluent in it, but somehow he claimed he wasn’t? (let’s not mention the obvious fake misspellings and misunderstandings of simple words.) how on earth would he have become fluent in (at least) five other languages in middle school-high school?

OTHER LITTLE LIES N DETAILS

- he claimed that he was a 6’7, 21 year old (cis) male.

- said he was a stripper, bartender, and a sex worker (we’ll come back to that later).

- sent a picture of “his” chest, but it was 100% from google or some shit.

- (not judging anyone who does) he said that his body count was 74, but literally no one asked?

- he texted us when he “got another body” tf? we don’t care. carry on, i guess. (said he went on for like 7 rounds but... what?)

- talked about getting a vibrator stuck in his ass n his roommate had to get it out for him, but once again, nobody asked. °-°

- said he could bench 200 lbs. not impressive, just thought it was worth mentioning.

- said he had the same birthday as bakugou, which, okay.. (4/20)

- he made multiple channels in the server where he could roleplay with certain people, which, i, and a couple other people never used.

III. the voice chat.

after a while of all of us messing around, the conversation started to get heated, and some of us were teasing him, including me. we decided to get on voice chat (his idea), and he started talking into the mic. all of us were very confused, as he did not at all sound like a giant of a grown man.

but, despite this, we all warily continued, until he left the call. when he left, everyone who was participating voiced their current concerns, and laughed out our nervousness. that is, until he re-joined and everyone muted. he continued doing what he was doing until he “broke character”, stating he was a voice actor and it was hard to keep up that voice because it hurt his throat. i would’ve believed him if he didn’t sound the exact same as he did when he was “in character”.

after that, we were a lot more concerned and on edge about his identity, and i started to focus more on the shit he was telling us, hoping to find out who the fuck this person really was. i stopped interacting with him in a nsfw way, and mostly observed what he was saying, just watching from the sidelines.

II. the pictures.

captions:

not only do the skin colors just not match up, the hands in each picture are totally different people. even if you take into account the lighting differences, the undertones should still be the same. these pictures are fake.

if you look at the fingers, you can see that the ones on the right are flatter, and shorter. if the hand on the left were to hold that phone, it would wrap all the way around the device.

from a common sense standpoint, we know that our palms are always lighter than our skin tone. the fact that the hand on the left is still darker, proves that these are different people. (not that we needed proof.)

also, if this guy is so muscular, why can he only bench 200lbs? and why is his wrist so skinny?

+ to me, the phone, (right image) and the quality of the picture, looks like a black iphone 4s. from what i can see, at least. meaning, if i’m correct, that picture is majorly outdated.

for both pictures, he flipped the image so that we wouldn’t be able to find it by just by reverse image searching. luckily, one of the people involved was able to figure that out, and told me immediately.

III. ID check.

like i said before, a lot of us were starting to get really suspicious, but at this point, i thought i was the only one that was sketched out, so i issued another ID check.

(be sure to click on the pictures. one of them is really long. also, when reading, read the date and times that messages are sent. i was trying to lighten the mood and be nice, but it was honestly so offensive that he thought i was legitimately dumb.)

so, obviously, these ID’s are fake. not only are the pictures the exact same, but the backgrounds are the same, the outfits are the same, the names are totally fake, and just, wow. i don’t really know how he thought that was gonna slip past me.

after i called both him, and @/yourmajesty-theking out, he went into his own discord and started ranting to some of the other people involved that he was freaking out because he didn’t have his ID.

remember how i said that he mentioned he was a stripper/bartender/sex worker? why the fuck don’t you have your ID on you if you claimed you were at work that day? you can’t get in without it. °-° just- everything he was saying didn’t come together cleanly. the timeline is all sorts of fucked up.

you can’t drive without an ID, how are you getting to work? you can’t get into a strip club without an ID, how are you getting in? you can’t serve alcohol without and ID, how are you a bartender? you can’t get an apartment without an ID, how are you living with a roommate?

he told us that he moved to america with his PARENTS, and somehow his grandmother is in america now? when did that happen? if you’re gonna lie, at least make it believable.

IV. conclusion.

anyway, do what you want with this information. the people in the discord all agreed that based off his voice and the evidence, that he couldn’t have been older than 15, and at most, 16.

though he hasn’t deactivated his account, the last time he was active was april 7, 2021 at 12:39am (EST) he claims he lives in cali, so i don’t know what time that is there.

thanks for reading. i’m sure i missed a lot of stuff, but for now, this is all i could put together. also, lmk if there are any spelling errors. i’m too tired to check.

like i said, if i get any hate for calling out a minor, you will be blocked/reported, and i will not hesitate to turn anons off for the time being. besides, saying dumb shit doesn’t affect me. just makes me laugh.

- bum <3

#18+ (mdni)#🍓. bum’s purge ࿐

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klutzyzombie · 4 years ago

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Image Impaired

Summary: From a young age, Bakugou Katsuki is told his hearing will continue to fade with use of his explosive quirk. He's given hearing aids to help when he reaches high school but refuses to wear them because what pro hero wears those? It takes some red-headed courage to convince him otherwise. Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Eijirou Kirishima, Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou (KiriBaku) Rating: General Warnings: N/A Words: 6,701 Notes: So this is my first official fic for this fandom and I don't exactly have anyone to proofread this so I sincerely apologize if it's out of character and for the errors! This was written from my own experiences with going deaf and requiring hearing aids and how I felt about it when I was first told. It seemed like something Bakugou may have also felt so you'll have to excuse me projecting~

**Please note that when a character is signing, it will be italicized.

Ao3: [click here!]

He started losing his hearing in grade school. He had been about eight when his family took him to get his ears checked when his grades slipped and he continued to miss things said at home. From there he was bounced from doctor to doctor but the general consensus was the same; his quirk was causing him to go deaf. It made sense really; continued exposure to loud constant boom’s. Like playing a rock concert next to the amp turned up all the way. It was bound to happen the second his quirk manifested and the decision to be a pro hero was made.

They recommended easing down on use of his quirk unless the situation called for it to try and put off the inevitable, but that wasn’t about to happen. Pro heroes in training needed to have master over their own quirks! So they also suggested hearing aids which Katsuki was against. What pro hero wore those tacky things?! For now, his hearing loss was manageable, but if Katsuki was keen on becoming a hero (and he was; even eight year old Katsuki knew this) then the doctors expected his hearing to be practically gone by the time he was in his late teens.

So the Bakugou family learned sign language as a safety net and as he grew, his hearing faded more and more as expected. It became Katsuki’s new normal for things to be a little jumbled and almost like people were talking underwater if they weren’t close enough or if they soft spoken. Maybe that was why as got older he had a tendency to yell constantly, his voice growing a little more gruff with age as well. He’d also picked up on lip reading which was immensely helpful in middle school as he refused to tell a teacher he couldn’t hear them or ask to sit in the front. It wasn’t going to be the future he imagined when he was a kid, but hey, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki! He wasn’t about to let something like hearing loss stop him from becoming the next number one hero! He was nothing but goal driven from a young age, refusing to tell anyone about what he deemed to be his biggest weakness, preferring to make due with his lip reading. When his acceptance into U.A. was announced, his parents made a decision and while he fought tooth and nail – literally – he was fitted for a pair of hearing aids.

U.A. was everything he had hoped it would be as a child (though he could have done without the damn nerd also getting in and sitting right behind him) and much to his utter chagrin, he even made a few friends despite the fact that he’d never refer to them as such. They were more like a few idiots who wouldn't know how to fuck off if their lives depended on it. One such of these idiots and the biggest offender was Kirishima who, from day one, seemed to latch on to Katsuki. It was annoying at first; sure he had ‘friends’ in middle school but they were more afraid of him and only followed him as some sort of leader or popularity magnet. Kirishima just- liked him. For him! There wasn’t any fear and he damn sure wasn’t getting popular by hanging around Katsuki. If anything that was reversed since the stupid idiot seemed to be friends with just about everyone to varying degrees.

And Katsuki wanted to hate it- hate HIM because he didn’t need friends let alone overly enthusiastic idiot friends and with Kirishima deeming him ‘friendly’, the rest of the idiot brigade followed suit. Before Katsuki knew what had happened, Kaminari had wormed his way into his and Kirishima’s study sessions, Ashido had started tugging on his arm in her bubbly excitement at something or another, and Sero had taken too confining in him about whatever trouble had been on his mind. Bakugou Katsuki had actual honest to god friends and it was Kirishima’s fault. It hit him one night after moving into the dorms after he’d been dragged to watch a movie in Kirishima’s room. Like, forcefully dragged and as they sat there, watching as Iron Man and Captain America did some epic team up move on some aliens, he realized he was actually enjoying himself around these idiots.

He wasn’t supposed to be fond of the dunces. He didn’t need anyone and after the hero exam he and Todoroki failed, he tried to go back to how things were. Katsuki didn’t need friends and Kirishima and Kaminari passing while he failed was proof of that. So he separated himself from them. Well, he tried to at least. It wasn’t easy to do since the clingy idiots couldn’t take a hint if he stapled it to their faces. It was exhausting and when he did finally manage it, about a week into his granted alone time he was miserable and angry and ended up back on Kirishima’s bed while he and Kaminari played some game on Kaminari’s Switch.

He couldn’t shake the idiots he unwillingly befriended and he whole heartedly blamed Kirishima for all of it. On a rare weekend home, he was bitching to his mom about the annoyances who kept blowing up his phone with their stupid ‘Bakusquad’ group text. Mitsuki was sitting at the kitchen table with designs and fabrics spread out while Katsuki ranted on. She hadn’t known her comment about him being popular due to his phone’s continued dinging would lead to this, but now it was hard to stop the small smile building as he went on and on about them. Something he pointed out to her with annoyance.

‘Sorry, it’s just nice to know you have actual friends! Finally.’

“I can fuckin’ hear you, hag!” Katsuki snapped.

‘Are you sure? I don’t see your hearing aids in.’

His response to that was to simply flip her off as he marched out of the room. “I’m not going to wear those fuckin’ things.”

“Katsuki!” They had this argument so many times now he could almost recite it word for word. It was what she always said since the moment they picked up the stupid devices. 'Wear them!' 'Are you wearing them?' 'How is training with the hearing aids working out?' Every damn time she called it was the same song and dance and it was getting more and more irritating every time she brought the damn things up! He could picture her pushing away from the table and marching after him so it wasn’t a surprise when her raised voice shouted after him. “We spent good money-“

“’-on those things so the least I could do is wear them’! Get a new speech! I don't fuckin' need them because I can still hear just fine!” There was an uncharacteristic pause after that and he wheeled around to glare at her, to see what she was trying to prove, only to see Mitsuki giving him a pointed look. “What?!”

‘I said if that was true, then you would be able to hear me.’ She signed while speaking. Well, he assumed she was. Her lips were moving and he could hear a faint sound that was in teh same tone as her voice, but couldn't quite make out the words. Katsuki stood there, red eyes narrowed at her which was a look she was mirroring back at him for all of a few seconds before she sighed, expression softening. ‘Katsuki, it’s gotten worse since you started high school. I’ve been practically yelling at you just so you’d hear me since you got home.’ The look on his face must have been horrified because his mom’s melted from fond annoyance to one of almost-pity. She lifted her hands to sign something else but he quickly turned and marched back up to his room to finish getting ready to head back to the dorms. He hated that look on her. Hated that look on anyone and he didn't need her to see that she was right. That his hearing really had gotten worse. It would make sense that it had, he guessed. He went from only training with his quirk a few times a week to preserve his hearing to using it about daily for hours on end.

So then why hadn’t he noticed it?

He guessed the whole ‘it’s a gradual process’ thing could be a factor and if he thought about it, he was having a harder time hearing Aizawa now. Deku’s muttering had also seemed to bother him less as of late and it damn sure wasn’t because the nerd had suddenly stopped the habit he’d had since they were kids. His hearing really had faded drastically in just under a year and that was a reality check.

One he also apparently wasn’t great at hiding because a few days back in school had Kirishima draping an arm across his shoulders in the locker room. He had a habit of doing that no matter what murderous look was on Katsuki's face and today when he went to shoot a glare at the red head - one he knew would just be ignored- he was met with a concerned look on Kirishima's face. “Yo man, you good? You’ve seemed kinda…”

“Extra murder-y.” Kaminari supplied.

Katsuki and Kirishima shot him a look, Katsuki’s much more threatening, but he went on. “Is everything alright? You know you can always talk to me!”

“Fuck off, I’m fine.” Was his eloquent reply and he knew Kirishima wasn’t convinced, but the red head knew enough about him to know to drop it. The look that now shifted across his face was proof he knew something was up, but he turned back to talking about some new show with Kaminari and Sero to make sure nobody else tried to take the opportunity to ask Katsuki about his oh so chipper mood. Kirishima was good at reading him like that. He seemed to always know what Katsuki meant or needed in the moment. It would be endearing if it wasn’t also equal parts annoying. Sometimes he wished the idiot would remember how damn powerful Katsuki was! But then again, Kirishima was also the perfect foil to him.

He watched as said boy grinned and laughed at something Kaminari had said, head tilting back slightly from the force of it. He was so stupidly friendly and he seemed to really want to be Katsuki’s friend if not his best one. He liked to proclaim as such at least and he guessed it was true to a degree. Kirishima knew him better than anyone else probably did and just how that happened should be concering. Just when had he allowed the idiot to figure him out so well?

Katsuki looked back at his locker with a huff, not about to give Kirishima another reason to ask about his mood again. He looked at his mask and the orange and black wing tips behind it. Looked at the orange X crossing the otherwise all black uniform. Looked at the matching heavy-duty boots and belt that housed mini versions of his quirk. Looked at how the entire ensemble represented everything he wanted to become and how his stupid hearing was likely to take all of that away.

He slammed the locker shut with more force than needed, meeting Kirishima’s gaze as he glanced over at the sound. “Meet me after dinner.” He said simply, walking off before he could see or hear the red head’s reaction.

---

Katsuki was a proud person and that was a fact that was well know. He never needed and never asked for help. He was self-sufficient and refused to lean on others to get to where he wanted to be. So reaching out to Kirishima about this was going to be a challenge. Said teen had been in his room for going on ten minutes, silently watching and waiting, sitting in his deskchair backwards as Katsuki glared daggers at the ground. It would be unnerving to have the talkative bastard so quiet if it wasn’t once again proof how well Kirishimia knew him; knew whatever was on his mind was heavy enough to make him clearly agitated and extra moody. This fact had him glance up so red eyes could meet red and at Kirishima’s concerned but patient face, he sighed and looked away.

“I can barely fuckin’ hear.” He admitted like it was the biggest secret he’d ever be forced to admit because to him, it was.

“Yeah?” Kirishima sounded confused but not in the way he had been anticipating. He was confused like you had just told him Ashido’s favorite color was pink. Like what Katsuki had just said was common knowledge.

This had Katsuki whipping his head back to look at him. “’Yeah’?! The fuck does that mean?!”

Kirishima tilted his head like he did when he could tell Katsuki was upset with him but didn’t know why. “It means yeah? Like, yeah I know?”

It was Katsuki’s turn to be confused now. “You know?”

“Dude, if it was supposed to be a secret, your awful at hiding it!” Kirishima laughed and he glared at him for it. This was supposed to be his close kept secret! His weakness nobody, except for maybe Deku, knew! Kirishima seemed to understand his inner turmoil (because of course he would) and gave the teen a small smile, moving to rub the back of his neck. “Well, maybe it just was to me? I dunno, man. I noticed from the quirk assessment we had on the first day.”

“How?!” His voice sounded more confused than annoyed.

Kirishima shrugged and moved his toe against the floor a bit to slightly spin the chair he was sitting on. A nervous habit he’d get when he was the center of attention, Katsuki noted. “You just weren’t responding to anyone. First I thought you were just kinda an asshole and ignoring people, ya know?” He looked back up at him with a grin. “But then when Aizawa-Sensei would repeat something louder and you’d respond and I saw your quirk in action, I guess I just put two-and-two together. I didn’t know it was some big secret though.”

“It’s not!” Katsuki was quick to snap but that wasn’t really true. It clearly was or his heart wouldn’t have dropped when he realized Kirishima had figured it out within hours of meeting him. He huffed to himself, not wanting to snap at Kirishima over his own overlook and looked away again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Does anyone else know?”

Kirishima hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “I think all of us kinda know somethings up to varying degrees.” He must have heard the speed at which Katsuki whipped his head around because Kirishima quickly clarified, “I mean those of us in the squad. Kaminari talks louder when he’s around us. Ashido and Sero started too as well after they hung out with us for a while. I suppose it also helps that the four of us are naturally loud anyway, but they definatley talk up and more clear when they're with us.”

Katsuki just looked at him stunned. They had all figured it out? And they hadn’t ever commented on it? Made it a point to make a joke about it? Tease him about it like they endlessly teased him about everything else? They had just started to talk louder for his sake?! Here he thought they were just obnoxious assholes…

Kirishima seemed to notice his lack of anger and response and crossed his arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on, resting his head on them as he studied Katsuki carefully. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

Katsuki shot him a glare before huffing and looking away again. A nonverbal yes before he sighed, eyes closing. His mind was still reeling from the knowledge that not only did the other idiots figure it out, but that they had all apparently silently just decided to not talk about it and simply speak up and clearer so he could hear them all better. He had a plan going into this. He was going to tell Kirishima he was hard of hearing, tell him he’d known it was coming, and how he was supposed to wear hearing aids. He had planned for questions and for almost snapping at Kirishima for giving him a pitying look before quickly covering it up because Kirishima knew he hated pity. He had expected this conversation to go the opposite direction it had gone and now he was at a loss.

“They…" How was he supposed to proceed now?! "I’m supposed to wear hearing aids.” He blurted out quietly, almost hoping Kirishima didn’t hear him.

But of course he did. “So why don’t you?”

“Are you stupid?!” Kirishima frowned. It wasn’t pity on his face but almost like disappointment? That look was somehow worse and Katsuki quickly looked away from him again. “I can’t be number one like that.”

“So you’d rather just not be at your best then?”

Wellp. Anger was back. Least that was familiar over the weird sensation knowing his friends never brought up his hearing had left him with. He jerked back to face Kirishima, on his feet before he even registered he’d moved. Kirishima just looked at him with same look he had on earlier. “What?!”

“You can’t be your best if you aren’t even going to work with something that improves your skills.” Kirishima repeated, apparently oblivious to the absolute inferno of anger his words had lit. “Dude, you can’t stand there and tell me with a straight face you’d be at your absolute best going into situations as you are when you could be going in with your senses heightened. That would be like fighting with one hand tied behind you back all the time! It doesn’t make any sense, man!”

Katsuki stood where he was, keeping Kirishima’s gaze which had narrowed. It wasn’t anger, but the look he got when determination had set in and he wasn’t about to even think about budging on something. Katsuki liked to imagine it was the look he had when he tried to convince their classmates to come to Kamino Ward. What made it worse this go around was that, well, Katsuki knew he was right. “Tch.” He turned and stalked back to his bed before slumping down on it, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had personally wronged him. “What pro hero do you know wears hearing aids, shitty hair?”

“You?” That answer had Katsuki turn to shoot him a ‘stop bullshitting’ look but Kirishima’s face was so purely earnest the words died on his tongue. “Sure none of the current pros do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be the first! I bet they’ll even make some with little orange X’s on them! That would be so cool!” He gave Katsuki one of those toothy grins that rivaled the sun in brightness and it took all Katsuki had not to smile at him in return.

He scoffed and looked away instead. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m right about this!” Kirishima stood up and moved to sit beside his feet on the bed. “You always are the first and best at everything. Wouldn't it be super manly to be the representation to little kids you want now?” Katsuki didn’t say anything, afraid speaking might betray how hot his face was starting to feel at Kirishima’s unbridled admiration. “Besides think of all the cool ways you could make them look! I bet you could get them like, orange to match your uniform or-!”

“They’re already orange.” Kirishima turned to look at him and Katsuki rolled his eyes at the awe on the red heads face. He knew what was coming without Kirishima even asking so he sat up to pull a small box from the far corner of his nightstand. He tossed it to Kirishima who caught and opened it, eyes growing wide.

“Dude, these look so cool!”

“No they fuckin’ don’t. Don’t lie to me-“

“I’m not, man! Dude, picture this.” He picked one of them up and held it so Katsuki could see before splaying his other fingers out behind it. “You could have them as part of you mask! I bet support could even make some super badass ones that could have another dual factor! Maybe even like Mic’s speaker thing? No, I guess that wouldn’t make sense. But maybe they can block out certain things? Like Shinsou’s quirk! Oh man, you’re an even better match for him now! Just turn them off and you can’t even hear him!” Kirishima went into a rant about all the things he thought the stupid device in his hand could be used for and honestly Katsuki wasn’t hearing any of it but not because of the hearing loss. He just watched the idiot talk, watched his lips move and hands gesture. Watched as he’d occasionally laugh at something he’d thought of and how his smile reached his eyes when he did. How he was so excited just to sit here and come up with dumb ideas and how happy he was that Katsuki was potentially going to be an even better hero.

That thought alone made Katsuki’s heart jump again. Kirishima had really meant it about being an example. He really did think wearing the stupid devices would make him a better hero. Didn’t think it would make him any less of a person or any less of a pro. Kirishima genuinely didn’t think less or pity him for it and it actually seemed like he was furious that Katsuki would risk throwing his own dream of being a hero away just because of two tiny devices that would help him.

It was almost too much for him.

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated. Kirishima stopped talking and looked at him. He was still smiling and Katsuki was willing to bet that he was too if the slight tug at his lips was any indicator. “Fuckin’-! Fine, you rambling moron. I’ll wear the damn things tomorrow.”

The grin he got in return had to rival the brightest light in the galaxy and before he could open his mouth to warn against it, Kirishima tackled him back on the bed. The curses and explosions he sent in return were simply laughed off and otherwise ignored.

---

True to his word, Katsuki stood in front of his mirror with the small devices in his hand. He looked at his reflection without them, took in the way he looked one last time as if he could never go back to this look before sliding them in and turning them on as he remembered the doctor demonstrating. He winced at the resistance he was met with as they flickered to life but looked back at his reflection once they were snugly in and properly adjusted. His hair hid them for the most part, ash blond strands hanging low enough that unless he really looked, he couldn’t see them. Maybe that meant nobody else would since he was actually looking for them. He let out a sigh and turned to grab his bag. He doubted that severely. He swore quietly to himself, ignoring how it actually wasn't as quiet as he thought, and started the trek to class.

The walk out of the dorms and into the school was… different? He could hear things he hadn’t otherwise heard before. He could hear birds chirping in the trees he walked under, bits and pieces of conversations of the people he passed, that one weirdo from 1-B saying something and even the faint smack that followed as that orange haired chick apologized for him. It was almost like he’d been listening to the TV volume only turned up to 2 and now suddenly it was changed to 10. It would be overwhelming if he were anyone else, he guessed. Katsuki imagined this is what those videos of colorblind people wearing those special glasses was like. To experience the world with a sense that was dulled for so long only to be informed that said sense could be much better.

He’d spent so much time glaring at the stupid things and then fiddling with them to get them adjusted that he’d been beaten to class by the self proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’. Kirishima was sitting on Sero's desk facing the door and when he spotted Katsuki, broke back out into that same grin he did that rivaled the light flickering in from the windows. “Hey, Bakugou!” He raised an arm in greeting, grabbing the attention of the other idiots who all turned to greet him though not as enthusiastically as Kirishima. Not much of a surprise considering the red head was very clearly the only morning person among them.

Katsuki tsk'ed in greeting but Kirishima seemed to be studying him harder than usual and it was pretty clear what he was searching for. So with a roll of his eyes, Katsuki turned his head slightly so Kirishima could see the small bit of orange poking out from under his hair and if the smile he was greeted with was bright, this one was blinding. He didn’t say anything much to Katsuki's relief, just looked back at Kaminari despite his grin not fading as Katsuki walked over to his desk and tossed his bag down. Such a stupid little thing and Kirishima was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

Class was almost night and day.

He could hear Aizawa’s lazy tone easily, better than he had ever remembered being able to. He didn't need to rely on his handouts and the board to take notes. It was considerably easier to understand Ectoplasm now too and, much to his sheer and utter annoyance, he could hear Deku muttering to himself again. It was annoying, sure, and he almost considered taking the stupid things out to prevent it, but the fact that he actually could stopped him. Even Deku's muttering couldn't quite distract from the almost wonder he had. He could also pick up on Kaminari and Kirishima whispering though he coldn't make out what. (Probably about the math problem Ectoplasm just wrote down.)

The lunchroom was another experience. He hadn’t ever heard it this loud and he muttered to Sero if something special was happening because of the noise before Sero eyed him confused and said it was always this loud. Huh. He knew it should be considering the amount of teenagers cramed into it, but the thought hadn't really ever crossed his mind just how loud it should be. It was almost painful. Their usual table was at least a little quieter since it was in the far back. Katsuki was actually able to hear Kaminari approaching without relying on the slight ting of electricity in the air that usually was his give away. He looked up and watched as he and Kirishima stepped over towards them, caught up in some conversation about something, only stopping when Kirishima moved away and took his usual spot beside Katsuki while Kaminari went to sit in front of him.

“Hey, Bakubro! You look-“

Katsuki winced. “Fuck, can you maybe not talk so damn loud?!” He brought his hands up to his ears, wincing as they gave off feedback which he assumed was due to the mentioned static Kaminari gave off. Maybe he really should speak to support about upgrading them if he was going to start using them more. Wait, was that going to be a thing? He'd told Kirishima he'd wear them today; not from then on. When had he decided this was going to be a permanent thing?

He was lost in his own thoughts about if this so he missed the way Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari looked at each other, then at him, then back to one another. “Uh? He’s talking like he usually does. Which yeah, it’s loud, but it’s his usual volume.” Sero defended, looking all the world like Katsuki had just started sprouting a second head.

Shit.

Katsuki huffed and looked down pointedly at his lunch, taking a bite of rice to further avoid meeting their gaze. “Well tone it the fuck down, dunce-face.”

Kirishima was pointedly quiet while the three others sat in silence for a joyous and nerve wracking moment. He wondered briefly if they would just drop it, but no, he was never that lucky. He heard a gasp, knew it was Ashido, and jerked his gaze back up just as she leaned across the table and reached over to move his hair aside. “You got hearing aids!”

“Fuckin’-! Don’t touch me!” He swatted her hand away but the damage was done.

She was grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my gosh, they look so good! That color is going to match your uniform perfectly!”

“Nice, dude! When did you get those?”

“Does this mean you’ll answer when I ask you for help now?”

“I think he was just always ignoring you, Kami.”

"What? No! Why would he do that?"

"Because you ask him for answers on every problem rather than how to solve it?"

Bakugou watched the three teens in front of him suddenly turn on Kaminari, laughing at the other blond’s expense. They hadn’t even flinched at him wearing them! No jokes, no sympathetic looks, nothing! They just took it in stride as if he’d said the weather outside was cool. He looked over at Kirishima to get confirmation that he wasn’t insane and they had really found out what he deemed his weakness. Kirishima met his gaze with a knowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, a silent ‘I-told-you-it-wasn’t-a-big-deal’ look on his face. Katsuki shot him a glare but turned back to his meal to try and hide the smile he knew would betray any small amount of anger it may have had.

They didn't seem to care. He'd spent so much of his life dreading the day he'd have to wear these stupid things. Dreading the way people would look at or perceive him. He was Bakugou Katsuki and the only way he should be looked at was with admiration or fear; not pity or sympathy, and he whole heartedly believed that was going to be the outcome wearing these would bring. He expected the three idiots in front of him to make a huge ordeal about it, but they just seemed relieved and excited. Just like Kirishima had been.

Maybe having friends wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

---

After that, Katsuki wore them daily. They became second nature from then on and he wanted to be surprised that nobody seemed to even flinch at them, but after seeing his friend’s reactions, he really wasn't. What was supposed to be a weakness was nothing more than another area he could work with. Something Katsuki could train and hone like his quirk. He’d even followed Kirishima’s idea and got a pair that would work with his mask. They got upgraded to protect his remaining hearing from his explosions while enhancing it. His regular ones got an upgrade as well so they’d stop sending him feedback every time Kaminari got within a foot of him which spared Kaminari getting threatened and snapped at so it was a win for him as well. (Both pairs were returned black with an orange X printed on them and Kirishima swore he knew nothing about it.)

Months passed and it was hard to imagine he’d ever put up such a fight to wear the stupid things. They really did make a difference and it was even better knowing nobody felt the need to shout at him. Part of him wondered just how many people did but also didn’t think his pride could risk asking. It was like nothing had changed and while he wouldn’t ever admit it, it was apparent he had worried and put this off for absolutely no reason. His friends rolled with it like nothing had happened and that alone, while he refused to admit it, was the real reason he continued to keep it up after the first day. The idiots seemed to be full of surprises, especially Kirishima.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened one night during the middle of their second year. The pair were up late in Bakugou’s room going over the latest math homework they’d been given. Well, more like Katsuki was going over Kirishima’s since his was already finished. At some point he’d taken his hearing aids out figuring he wouldn’t really need them in the quiet of his room.

He marked one last problem Kirishima needed to look over and handed the paper back. The red head took it then asked ‘Do you want to go get something to eat?’

“Yeah sure.”

He pushed himself up and brought an arm back behind his head to stretch it out and then it dawned on him. Kirishima hadn’t spoken. His lips hadn’t moved.

“What?!”

Kirishima startled at his yelling. “I asked-“

“I know what you asked!” Katsuki was pretty sure he must look strange because Kirishima was looking at him with sheer, utter confusion. “It’s- it’s how you asked it!”

The red head blinked at him in confusion, clearly not understanding why Katsuki was suddenly so upset. “What about it?”

“You signed!”

“Yeah?” He held the ‘ea’ sound out as if the pause would help him figure out what had happened. Katsuki could feel his face heating up. “Dude, I’m so confused right now. What’s wrong?”

“You-! You fuckin’ signed to me!”

“Yeah, you covered that part. What about it?”

“When the fuck did you learn it?!”

Kirishima still looked at him baffled. “Dude, I’ve known for years. My mom is hard of hearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t think I’d need to? I sign to you all the time, man!” Now it was Katsuki’s turn to look lost. He looked at the red head for a few minutes as if he’d just told him some world altering view, which he kinda did. “You good, bro?”

“No I’m not ‘good’! When the fuck have you ever signed to me?!” Though as the question left his lips, memories started replaying in his head. One’s of Kirishima casually signing ‘lunch?’ while verbally saying they should head to grab a bite to eat. Memories of Kirishima signing ‘that was awesome!’ after Katsuki did some impressive move in training. Of Kirishima’s fingers moving to ask him to pass his notes back over. Vision after vision of Kirishima slipping it into such casual setting from the first weeks he knew him and wow, okay that did something to his heart.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? When the hell had Kirishima become such a casual part of his life that him speaking in a language hardly anyone knew became second nature? How had he learned so much about Katsuki without him ever knowing the red head was close enough to figure him out? Why did he decide to dedicate so much of his energy and time to be around him?!

“Dude?” He looked over at Kirishima who was now looking at him worried. “I was kinda kidding when I asked if you were good but now I’m actually worried. Are you alright? You look, like, sick."

Katsuki dropped to his knees in front of the red head who was looking even more concerned now. He opened his mouth, probably to once again ask if Katsuki was okay, when Katsuki put his hands on either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular on the outside, just a chaste kiss, but it was an awakening for Katsuki who avoided feelings and distractions. Katsuki who had mentioned romance was the furthest thing on his mind when Ashido asked him back in first year if he was interested in anyone. So yeah, it wasn’t the most romantic of kisses as Katsuki hadn’t exactly kissed anyone aside from one or two people back in middle school and Kirishima hadn’t exactly moved or leaned into it let alone reacted.

Wait, shit. Kirishima hadn’t reacted.

That thought had him pulling back immediately, apology already forming but going unspoken as Kirishima mirrored the gesture of grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Now it was Katsuki’s turn to be shocked but it faded in seconds, eyes closing on instinct as he moved to rest his hands on Kirishima’s hips. Kirishima in turn gently cupped the side of his face, guiding Katsuki’s head to tilt to the side slightly so he could deepen it. Alright, this one was much better than the pitiful one Katsuki had just done. Kirishima’s lips slid against his like they were meant to be connected and his hands lit Katsuki’s skin on fire. The feeling was like wearing his hearing aids for the first time. Like reawakening a sense that had been muted for years. He didn’t want it to end but after one last slow kiss, Kirishima pulled back, lips parted as he breathed.

Katsuki opened his eyes and blinked down at him, no doubt looking as kiss-drunk as the red head. Kirishima beamed back up at him, cheeks tinted red which Katsuki could feel his own face mimicking. He glanced away as if that would hide it, ignoring the way his heart rate picked up when Kirishima’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, head resting against his chest. He had about a billion things he wanted to say, knew Kirishima had about a billion he probably wanted to ask, but of course the red head knew him well enough to know he needed a minute before he spoke. Kirishima knew him so well. How did he not ever connect these dots and do this sooner?!

“So you like me.”

Alright, maybe not the elegant response he wanted but he earned a laugh from Kirishima. He shrugged and looked up at him so Katsuki could see his lips, smile still present. “What finally gave that away?”

Katsuki could feel his face flush anew. “’Finally’?”

“I haven’t exactly been trying to hide it from you.”

“You never fuckin’ said anything!”

“Again, never thought I’d need to.”

And alright, that was fair if he thought about it. He frowned but it was more at himself than at Kirishima and he ducked his head down to rest against the red head’s shoulder, the red head pulling him close. “You have awful taste.” He muttered to which Kirishima just hummed, lightly resting his head against the side of Katsuki’s.

They stayed like that for a while longer before Kirishima’s stomach made them remember what had started this whole ordeal in the first place. As they stood up and started to head out, Katsuki paused and turned grabbing his hearing aids and sliding them into place, ignoring the way Kirishima’s face lit up at the simple motion. He didn’t comment on it though, only taking Katsuki’s hand for a whole second before dropping it. Katsuki arched a brow, about to ask what was wrong.

‘I really, really like you, Katsuki.’

Katsuki was pretty sure his face was currently redder than the idiot in front of him’s hair and mumbled a quiet “Fuck you” as he lightly punched his shoulder. Kirishima laughed and caught Katsuki’s hand before it fell away. He went to lace their fingers together and tug him down the hall but Katsuki stayed rooted to the spot. Kirishima looked back at him, head tilting in the ‘whats-up’ way he did before Katsuki pulled his hand back.

‘You are an idiot, but I like you too.’

It shouldn’t be a surprise the way Kirishima’s eyes lit up. It shouldn’t be breath taking the blinding smile such a simple statement was met with. It shouldn’t make his heart skip when he was rewarded with another kiss. None of it should be but here Katsuki was, arms wrapped around this dumb, red headed ray of sunshine who managed to do the impossible.

#KiriBaku #Bakugou Katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #BakuShima #Deaf Bakugou #Bakugou #Kirishima #BNHA #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #MHA #klutzys writing

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years ago

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Don’t Bet what You’re not willing to Lose: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU

AN: Normally I don’t write an intro for their first meeting but I think it may be warranted in this case. Atsumu and Osamu’s First Meeting will be the same; however, their stories will change based on who you choose. Hope you enjoy this!

There was always a quiet lull in between big games; however, today was different. It was a quiet mid-afternoon. Only a few regulars hung around the bar or in the booths near the entrance. None of them came to get a cup of coffee or any of the pastries. Carrie was also out so this left the staff quiet and bored.

“Have you decided if you’re going to the game tonight?” asked one of the part time hires. He normally worked on days that I had off so I hadn’t had a chance to learn his name. Everything I’ve heard about him was from Carrie herself. She said he’s a dedicated worker who needed to make some part time money. “A few of my friends were going to go but one dropped out earlier.”

“I’ll decide closer to the game,” I chuckle while picking up the nearest broom. “I may need to close tonight if most of the staff decides to take you up on your ticket.”

The man chuckled where his eyes sparkled when he talked. “I’ll go check to see if anyone else wants to take it.” With those words, he left to the back to check with the other new hire who was still watching the training videos in the back.

I shook my head and went to go sweep the already clean floor. Slow days made working in customer service less enjoyable than it already was. As I was sweeping the backcorner, the bell for the door rang. I turned my head to see two people who looked the same in appearance and stature. The only difference was the color of both of their hair.

“Welcome to the No Doze Cafe,” I called them. “I’ll be with you in one moment.” I sweep the remaining fluff into the dust pan. Tossing the remaining dust into the trash can, I set the broom down long enough to go and meet the two guys who were standing at the register.

They were both heated in a conversion. The blonde seemed to be the louder of the two as his voice boomed across the small cafe. The other twin only seemed to engage in the constant discussion whenever it would get under the skin of his brother. “Hello,” I say after reaching the register. “How may I help you?”

“You need to settle a bet between us,” said the blonde. “Osamu overheard that our friend Kita started working here. I bet him that I’d buy his coffee if he was here.”

“Kita,” I mumble trying to remember the names of the three new hires. I tap the outside of the old register to think. It didn’t help that I kept getting lost in the blonde’s affectionate smile or scouring the broad shoulders of the grey one. “Let me go into the back and check the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

My escape was needed otherwise the burning sensation of my cheeks was going to give away my extended excitement for the twins being here. Walking into the back, I noticed that the one ticket was gone along with the two employees. I checked the clock only to see that their shift had ended ten minutes ago.

A quickly written note was left apologizing for leaving so soon after shift. The author of the note explained that the game would be starting soon and he has to watch his friend play. I peeled the note from the corkboard and read the name: Kita Shinsuke.

A smile crossed my face as I’d get to give them the news that their friend does work here. I take the note as confirmation.

I could hear the blonde’s voice even before I exited the backroom. They were still locked in debate but this conversation seemed different than before. Once we made eye contact, the two became eerily silent. However, the intense side eyes exchange by each twin could be felt across the whole cafe.

“I was able to get your answer,” I say while holding up the note as if it was proof. “You’re looking for Kita Shinsuke, right?”

“Yes,” said the grey haired twin. His counterpart nodded in agreement.

I hand over the piece of paper. “He’s a new hire. You just missed him. He kept trying to get some of the staff to go to the volleyball game down the road. You’ll have to meet him there.”

The grey twin grabbed the note and scoured it for the name. “I told you he worked here.”

“Shinsuke is going to my game?” questioned the blonde.

“He may have wanted to surprise you.”

“Then your dumbass decided to make this bet ruined the surprise. “

“My dumbass? If you would have believed me then it wouldn’t have been ruined. You owe me coffee too. So pay up.”

Their bickering feud left me with a breathless laugh. “So what will it be fellas?” I interrupt.

“Your number?” said the blonde while leaning onto the bar. “Or is that too forward.” His twin massaged his temple as if this wasn’t the first time his brother has done something like this.

“Don’t listen to him. I’ll take a regular coffee. ‘Sumu’s lucky that I don’t like sugary drinks. I should have bet that’d he pay for a week’s worth of rice at the shop.” I started to pick up one of our regular type cups and lid.

The blonde’s face scrunched before turning back to mine. “I’m being serious though. I’d gladly take your number any day. A few of my team members have talked about you yet I didn’t know how beautiful you actually were.” His voice dropped with every word he spoke. A slow sultry one that tested out the water. “Name’s Atsumu.”

“Osamu,” said the other twin. As he pointed to the cup. “That’s what you should put there.” He actively ignored Atsumu in favor of the cup in front of him. “If you need to spell it, its 307-”

“-Don’t give her your number. That’s not part of the deal,” said Atsumu.

“The deal was the first person she texted,” replied Osamu. “Not getting her number. Learn your own rules of the game.”

I allowed the bickering to continue as I went to fill up the cup with house-made coffee. Their yelling was getting louder by the second; however, I would say that it is a nice change. Burning liquid about spilled over the side as I was lost in thought of which twin I’d actually want to give their number.

As I turned to face them one more time, they were too busy to notice my returned presence. “Take it. It’s on the house,” I say holding out the cup. The twins finally notice me. The coffee was held directly in the middle of them. Osamu takes the cup with a polite nod. “Now, get out your phones because I’ll only say it once.”

Both men were shocked before they reached into their pockets to find the device. The momentary pause made my heart swell in mild excitement. I recited my number. Atsumu looked at his brother’s phone to make sure he had it down correctly. Osamu tried to hide his phone while sending a text and not spilling the hot coffee. It was like a madhouse show.

I shook my head before going back to grab the broom. “You can text me later. Plus I don’t use my phone until after my shift.” I did one more up and down of them before going back to my chores from before. Beyond my warning, I still felt two faint buzzes before the twins left the cafe. The only question left was which one I would respond to.

NO DOZE MASTERLIST

WANNA BE TAGGED?

Osamu Part 2

Atsumu Part 2

#atsumu fluff #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x reader #no doze cafe #a writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #kita #hq #hq osamu #hq atsumu

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de-facto-slut · 4 years ago

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Release Me Into Orbit

(Dark!Bucky x Black!Female Reader)

Summary: Bucky and the Reader are trying to heal from the trauma of their pasts.

A/N: Here we dive into the past. The true beginning to our characters stories. This story takes place both in the past and the present so get ready for that. I do plan on releasing the next Chapter of Invisible Chain soon! Stay tuned.

Warnings: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Violence, major character death, Manipulation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, eventual Kidnapping, Breeding Kink, and angst etc later in the story.

Honestly More tags will be added.

Ch 2: 2014

Longing.

It was hard for Bucky to see anything through the small opening in his cell door. He had lost count of how many years he had been locked up a long time ago. There were no windows that allowed him to even guess when it was night and when it was day. Inside his cage they made sure he had no human interaction; they left Bucky completely alone. As the years passed the only thing keeping him company was his own thoughts. Bucky would try his hardest to focus on his fragmented memories before the war. Those memories contained the few good things he could remember about being human. His first kiss behind Sal’s Diner. The smell of his mother’s home-made cherry pie. The scary thing was he couldn’t even remember his mother’s face, just the smell of her fragrant pie. To be honest he couldn’t remember any faces. They were all just blurs. When it came to his captors all he knew is that they had the same routine in place for him every day. They would feed him his one meal, then they would return to remove him from the cell. The strong ones would drag him through a maze of corridors until he reached a room filled with bright fluorescent lights. The lights illuminated the dreaded device they used for their experiments.

Rusted.

The experiments were the only time he interacted with anyone outside of his cell. Bucky could never see them properly as they always hid behind the bright lights. All he ever got to see were their shadows as they moved about speaking their foreign tongue. Nobody ever spoke to him unless they were reciting the very words that caused him great mental distress. Those words were a curse that was cast on him a long time ago after the war. One that followed him, captor to captor. They would often drug him, just enough so he’d be a little disorientated, but they made sure he’d still be able to feel and hear everything. Once drugged, that’s when they would begin torturing him. The only thing they would change in his routine is the method in which they tortured him. Each time they would try a new method to test the limits of his body and the limits of his mind. Unfortunately for Bucky, the day didn’t end until he physically and mentally could not take anymore. Eventually, they didn’t even need to use pain or the dreaded spell to get him to comply.

Seventeen.

It was a strange sensation to not be in control of one’s own body. It was a sensation that Bucky should have grown used to, but he never could. It was as if his own consciousness was taking a back seat while someone else controlled him over and over, each driver just as brutal as the next. He was always vaguely aware of what atrocities they made him commit in the name of science, and that in itself was torture to live with. When they would return him to his cell, he could barely get a wink of sleep as the images would replay over and over in his mind. Their screams ringing in his ears. This was what they had reduced him to, he was just a tool to them. Eventually, he had to do everything in his power to keep himself from going completely mad and that just meant numbing himself to it all. The bright-eyed man from Brooklyn that was just trying to save the world was gone years ago. In his place was a murderer. A weapon. A monster. And that’s all he’d ever be.

Daybreak.

It was a day like any other, except it was storming outside. Bucky could tell by the sounds of the fierce winds howling against the facility that and he had finally been moved to a cell with a small window. Bucky had learned that he had been with these particular captors for several years. Honestly, everyone that ever ‘owned’ him was the same in his eyes, so it didn’t matter how long he was kept. Eventually, he’d just be handed off or kidnapped again by someone else that wanted him. Luckily for him, years of compliance and loyalty earned him an upgraded cell and some limited freedoms. Along with some of the smaller changes he was finally able to speak their tongue, just another language to add to his impressive portfolio. There weren't a lot of things Bucky could do to entertain himself. If he wasn’t on an active mission, he was pretty much tied to his room unless they allowed him a break from his cell. In his free time, all Bucky could do is entertain himself by working out. And that’s all he ever did.

Furnace.

He was face down as his palms supported his weight in a push-up position.

“Two hundred and Forty-Nine.”

“Two Hundred and Fif-”

Nine.

He suddenly paused looking towards the door of his cell. He could have sworn he had heard a voice. Bucky waited patiently, but there was only silence in return. Perhaps he had imagined it, or maybe he was truly going mad. He returned his gaze to the floor before he heard it again. It was a voice, it was faint, but it was definitely a voice.

Benign.

“Hello?” it called out softly as if in a whisper.

Homecoming.

The voice was suddenly followed by the sound of the metal slot on the door sliding to reveal two eyes peering at him. Bucky was unsure of how to respond, mainly because he was unsure what was going on. The men who came to retrieve him from his cell never spoke to him, and this person was clearly speaking English. English felt foreign to him now, he hadn’t heard it in so long. Bucky suddenly sat up watching the eyes on the other side of the door. Again, there was a moment of silence before they spoke again.

One.

“Can you understand me?”

It was a woman.

Freight car.

---

“Mom! Hurry, I’m going to miss my flight!”

You rushed down the stairs with your bags in your hands. Your shoes caught on the last step almost causing you to trip. A quiet curse left your lips as you attempted to stabilize yourself. Your father watched as he tried not to laugh at your misfortune. Carefully, you handed him your bags and he tossed them into the trunk of his truck.

“Fragile!” you shouted at him.

You crawled into the back of the car as you patiently waited for your parents to join you. Eventually, after what seemed like another 30 minutes gone by, they entered the car. “Do you have everything?” your father asked one last time.

“Yes, now let’s get going!”

It felt like freshman year of college all over again. Instead, you were a graduating senior and you had just accepted an opportunity of a lifetime. A few months ago, your professor, Mr. Brigmova, had presented your class with an opportunity. The top five students in the program would be able to join him in a work-study program. You were still unsure how you beat out several other students, but you did. You felt extremely lucky to be able to partake in such a program. To be among the top 5 students in your area of study was everything you could have hoped for. It showed your parents that it wasn’t a waste of time or money to send you out of state for school.

Ever since middle school, you had always wanted to study genetics and biology. When you reached high school, you learned about Bioinformatics and molecular genetics and you made up your mind on what you wanted to do. When you told your parents, they began immediately running numbers in their heads. Feeling guilty about your career choice and the school you chose to attend; you worked your ass off to get and keep a 4.0 GPA. In turn that promptly led you to the 3rd spot among the top 5 students. And not to toot your own horn, you were the only double major among them. Double the hard work, so deep down you felt as if you were #1 anyway.

As a result of all your hard work, you were flying across the world for the first time. You’ve never been so nervous before your professor had revealed the location, you had never heard of Sokovia. You wouldn’t have been able to locate it on a map either, it was such a small country. This was also the first time you had to travel without your parents, and you’d be away for them for five months. You would have no safety net out there. Before you knew it, you had arrived at the airport and you could feel the butterflies settling at the bottom of your stomach like a heavy rock. You felt like you had to use the bathroom, but you knew better than that. Your parents helped you remove your bags from the car as the other cars honked impatiently. You flipped the respective vehicle off before embracing your parents one last time. You exchanged your goodbyes before you disappeared behind the airport doors.

It was the longest flight you had ever been on. After getting off the plane, you were tempted to kiss the frozen ground, but you had seen enough cartoons to know what would happen. In Sokovia, the winters were harsh around this time, and thanks to your research beforehand you were prepared. Or at least you thought you were. You exited the airport to be greeted by the harsh Sokovian winter.

The bitter cold of Sokovia nipped at your bare cheeks and the tip of your nose. Slowly it seeped into the pockets where you kept your gloved hands numbing your fingers slowly. The cold was nothing like you were used to back in the south. Immediately, regret settled right beside the nervousness as you realized you wished you had stayed behind the airport doors just a moment longer as you waited for your ride.

The streets were not as busy as google images made it seem. It was probably due to the fact that it was unbearably cold, and it was late. You desperately wanted to return to the warmth of indoors, but you feared missing your shuttle. You moved about in hopes that it would warm you up while you waited for the shuttle as you watched it grow dark. Not wanting to expose your hands to the cold you peeked at your pocket for the time before you left you made sure to adjust it for the time difference. The shuttle was running late and that worried you, you knew nothing of the language to get help if you ended up stranded.

Eventually, you took a seat on your suitcase, holding onto it tightly. The last thing you would want is to be robbed in a completely different country. You waited for what seemed like almost an hour in the cold before you saw the shuttle pull up in front of you. Slowly you stood on your two feet stretching as you watched the shuttle door slide open, only to reveal your professor. Mr. Brigmova was a tall man with an average build in his early forties. He had dirty blonde hair and striking gray eyes. If not for the slight wrinkles near his eyes, he could have easily been mistaken for his early thirties. He motioned you inside as he jumped out to grab your bags for you. You did as you were told climbing into the vehicle as the warmth inside embraced you. You watched as Mr. Brigmova carefully placed your bags in the back seat of the shuttle. He flashed you a smile as he slid into the seat next to you. “It is good to see you, Y/N.” He greeted you. “It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Brigmova,” you replied.

“Please, call me Peter. We’re colleagues now.” He responded. You noted it was just you, Your professor, and the Driver. Out of everyone you were the last from the program to make it in. Your professor turned towards the driver tapping the back of his seat, “My gotovy k rabote.” He mentioned in his native tongue. You weren’t completely sure what he had told the driver but the fact that the shuttle started moving probably was related. Peter turned to you noting how tense you were placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it lightly. His action surprised you, but he only flashed you a smile in return,

“Relax you’re in Sokovia now.”

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #dark!fanfiction #Dark Fic #dark!marvel #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x black!reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!mcu #black reader #bucky × black reader #sam wilson

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jenmyeons · 5 years ago

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Fine Dining | M

Pairing: chanyeol x fem reader Summary: Chanyeol shows you his own version of Fine Dining Warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex, slightly inappropriate touching in a public setting, mild choking, dirty talk, swearing, park chanyeol himself

Word count: 3,4k

Author’s note: can be read as a sequel to tender love but is perfectly fine reading as a stand-alone fic

Also tagging @chogi-wae

The buzz of conversation vibrating through the restaurant feels soothing as you sip on the glass of red held firmly in your hand. Over the rim of the glass you notice your boyfriend trying to take a not-so-sneaky picture of you from his side of the table. Thankful for the more secluded spot in the restaurant granted by the waiter graceful enough to understand your need for at least a little bit of privacy, you indulge him. Giving him a few smiles and not so modelesque poses.You imagine there are more than a few glances cast your way but don’t bother confirming your suspicion. Curious glances and whispers comes with the territory of dating an idol. Plus, your relationship has been public for long enough that you’ve grown somewhat accustomed to the attention. They aren’t necessarily looking at you anyways but rather observing the man in front of you living out all of his Instagram husband dreams.

”If you wanted to take a photo of me you could just ask, you know?”

Chanyeol looks up at you with a wide eyed gaze, flustered by being caught. Not that he was subtle in the first place. ”I was trying to get a good candid,” he shrugs. ”Besides, I wanted to document you actually wearing that ridiculously expensive dress for once.”

The smug smile he shoots your way, accompanied by a greasy wink, is not appreciated and you give him a light kick under the table.

”You were the one who picked it out dumbass, now give me the phone I wanna see the pictures,” you tell him and stretch your arm across the table, impatiently wiggling your fingers until he lends you the device. ”Maybe I’ll post one or two when we get home.”

You spend a minute or two flipping through the surprisingly many pictures he’d managed to sneak of you to decide which ones are good enough for keeping and another few seconds go to sending them to yourself just before your dinner arrive. Sliding the phone across the table back to its owner while the plates are placed in front of you, you vaguely hear the waiter reciting all the ingredients of your respective meals. Something you will never understand about the luxury restaurant culture. Not intending to be rude, you make sure to give her a hopefully encouraging smile and thank her before she struts away to tend to the other guests.

As it turns out, Kyungsoo’s recommendation was a good one. Although, over the years of knowing him, you’ve learned not to question the impeccable taste of the culinary enthusiast turned military chef. The food tastes heavenly but you’re not sure you want to look at the price point of the most certainly expensive steak kissing your tastebuds with the way it seemingly melts in your mouth. Not exchanging this heavenly meal for a quickie then ramen and some more sexy time was definitely a good call, however turned on you had been in the car ride over to the restaurant. Your handsy boyfriend keeping a steady hand on your thigh had not been helpful either.

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence by the mix of alcohol in combination with the not very innocent recollection of what had played out no more than an hour earlier, you slowly move your right foot forward and nudge Chanyeol’s left foot slightly. His questioning look turning into a playful smile as you knock your black pump off and slide said foot up over his ankle then move further upwards to stroke his calf. There’s an audible gasp heard from Chanyeol’s side of the table and he fixes you with a hard glare as he reaches for the water carafe to refill his water glass. Desperate to quench his sudden thirst. Thankful for the thick white cloth covering the table, he feels the smallest sense of comfort in knowing that at least other guests won’t be able to see his lover’s attempt at seduction. At the back of his mind, he knows that he brought this upon himself when he couldn’t keep his hands to himself during the car ride here. He lets you continue, however flustered by the whole ordeal, knowing that working him up is exactly what you have in mind. You continue your ministrations while receiving the occasional nudge of his own foot against yours. A silent invite for you to keep playing. Conversation flows rather effortlessly between the two of you despite what is going on beneath the table.

You can imagine the headlines if people were to find out that a member of EXO was caught playing footsies at one of Seoul’s most critically acclaimed restaurants.

At one point during dinner you find yourself placing your foot on top of Chanyeol’s thigh and him, having eaten up, reaches down and starts caressing your ankle. He gives a firm squeeze and the message is clear; this game of yours is not funny or cute anymore. You try moving the foot closer towards his crotch but Chanyeol makes it very clear that he is done with your games when he shoves your foot off his leg. Having learned quite early on in your relationship when not to push boundaries. However, you can’t help but put one last nail in the coffin of his patience and send him a wink while nicely retreating your foot and slipping your heel back on. Much like the last grains of sand in an hourglass, you can see the exact moment his restraint wears thin and you know that he is no longer playing by your rules.

”That’s enough baby, I’m taking you home,” he tells you, the tick in his jaw signaling that there is no room for negotiation. Not that you feel any need to object.

After waving the waiter over and asking her for the tab while rushing to decline her offer of dessert, you watch in amusement as Chanyeol all but rips his wallet apart while attempting to retrieve his credit card. You pipe up to let him know that sharing the tab is more than okay but the unamused daggers more or less shooting from his eyes stop you mid sentence and you let him continue in peace. The poor waiter watches in amused confusion at the scene playing out in front of you and you let out a laugh as well. Your boyfriend is certainly a man full of passion.

The car ride home is a mess of grabby hands and making out in the back of the taxi, making the excitement and anticipation of what’s to come that much higher. You’re surprised you even manage to punch in the familiar code of your apartment correctly at the first try what with your needy boyfriend planting kisses along your neck from his position behind you. The house slippers go long forgotten as the pair of you make quick work at kicking off your shoes before making a beeline for the bedroom. In the morning, you will come to laugh fondly at the mess made up of his suit jacket carelessly thrown over the chair in the hallway and your purse on the floor outside your bedroom door accompanied by Chanyeol’s suit vest.

You’re unable to stop the shiver running down your spine as Chanyeol carefully unzips your dress. Gentle hands leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. The dress straps are soon enough pushed off your shoulders, accompanied by kisses going down your neck and you make quick work of stepping out of the piece of clothing as it pools around your feet. Leaving you in only your underwear. Turning you around, he admires you for a few long seconds that drag on for an eternity before finally pulling you close and letting you get to work on unbuttoning his slacks. With both your hands busy, Chanyeol starts loosening his tie then moves on to his shirt buttons where you meet him halfway then haphazardly rid him of the material, desperate to get your hands on his warm skin. If you thought Chanyeol had been handsy earlier, it was nothing compared to the way your hands are touching him everywhere at the same time when given free rein over the muscular planes of his upper body. He nudges you in the direction of your shared bed with a soft push and gently tells you to lay down. The low burn in your stomach turns into a small fire as he hooks his long fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs. His features get taken over by a sly smirk when he then rids himself of his boxers, the only piece of clothing left on his body. The smirk grows wider as a small gasp leaves your lips and you take him all in.

You watch as he climbs onto the bed and settle yourself up on your elbows but you are quickly pushed into the mattress once again by a steady hand on your right shoulder making you lose balance. Said hand then takes one of your breasts in and squeezes lightly. He releases his grip and instead opts for leaning in to take your nipple into his mouth and sucks, once again making you hiss loudly under your breath. Another gasp leaves you when one of his hands finds its way down between your legs, pushing them apart in order to have access to your most private area. Chanyeol takes his sweet time. Relishing in the sound of your breathing picking up slightly as he caresses your inner thigh then lets his fingers barely touch your sensitive pussy.

”Please baby, more. It feels so good,” you beg him and his own neediness and arousal fogging his eyes makes it easy to give in and finally make proper contact with your clit. Starting at an agonizingly slow pace.

”You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, his voice filled with adoration. ”I can’t believe you’re all mine. Want to keep you in my arms forever, if you’ll let me.” Hearing these words, you snake your arms around his neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss. Telling him that you’re his for as long as he’ll have you. His tongue pushes ever so gently against the seam of your lips, asking for permission to be let in and you of course relent. Then a finger is pushing against your entrance and he breaks away from your kiss. ”This wet already baby?” You nod at his question. As a matter of fact, you had been steadily soaking your panties ever since he let you know how he wished you unravel you tonight while watching you get ready. Your moaning mixed with the obscene squelching of his finger moving in and out of you makes for a sinful melody which fills the room.

The one finger is then accompanied by a second and you can feel your climax approaching but Chanyeol has other plans and pulls away completely, leaving you a whiny mess. You reach down in order to soothe the tingling feeling left by his abrupt stop but soon enough, you understand the reason for breaking the contact was in order to move down the bed and settle in-between your legs.

This is going to be a long night, you decide, when wet lips come in contact with your inner thigh and start a trail to where you want him the most.

”Oh fuck,” you sigh as your boyfriend’s mouth finally connects with your wetness, setting a deliciously unpredictable pace. Tongue flicking your clit. He stops for a second and looks up at you underneath thick eyelashes.

”We’ll get there baby,” he cheekily lets you know with that smug smile of his. You don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his confidence and tell him to get back to work. He answers you with a ’yes ma’am!’ and you huff out a breathy laugh which molds into a whine as he continues his ministrations. Letting his fingers join and curl inside you, your hips involuntarily buck against him with fingers bunching the bedsheets between them. You can feel the orgasm once again start to build the moment his fingers pick up their pace, your walls flutter and the feeling of a rubber band pulled taut snapping together is the last push you need to fall over the edge. Chanyeol slows his pace to ease you down from your high before withdrawing completely. He sits back up and rests against his heels so you have a moment to catch your breath for a moment. Although the sight of you lazily touching your breasts only serves to feed the need to devour you again right away.

Chest heaving and cheeks flushed from arousal is a wonderful look on you. Chanyeol thinks he might not even have vocabulary enough to properly do you justice. Fuck, you might be the most beautiful being he’s ever laid eyes on and trying to water that down into simple compliment would be shameful. But this doesn’t mean he won’t spend his life reminding you of how utterly breathtaking you are. He notices that you have once again pushed yourself up by the elbows and gently places his hand on your cheek. The one with his Loey tattoo. The one that just moments ago had worked you into your first climax of the evening. His thumb brushes against your reddened cheek. A motion that makes your eyes flutter close.

”You’re doing good baby. So, so good.” His praise alone has you feeling like a goddess in your own right and you feel yourself craving more. If only you could feel like this every day. But the world is cruel at times and the beauty standards you try to be on par with often do more harm than good. There is no telling who you would be without the man looking at you like you personally hung each and every star in the sky. You aren’t sure how you got lucky enough to stumble upon such a brilliant person such as Chanyeol. All you know is that you never want to let him go. That you want to make sure he knows exactly how much you love and adore him for being so unapologetically himself at all times. How thankful you are to be lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his love.

You fall back and place your hand over the one he has still covering your cheek. Chanyeol leans in and kisses you. First on your lips, moving on to the corner of your mouth, then removes your now intertwined hands to gain access to your cheek. Last but not least, you feel his hot breath against your ear and he lowers his voice to a whisper.

”Ready to keep going?” You nod frantically in affirmation. Yes. A million times yes. ”You better hold on tight then babygirl.”

The sound of his deep voice in your ear makes your insides melt. ”Take me,” you challenge him.

He positions himself against your entrance, the blunt tip of his head bumps against your clit due to the wetness caused by his earlier preparations and both of you hiss at the stimulation. How he had managed to put his own needs to the side this long is beyond you, but then again, he had always been the giving type. Someone who revels in making you come undone over and over under his hands. When he finally pushes inside, you swear all you see is stars. His name leaves your lips in a drawn out moan and something dark and alluring takes over his gaze. He lets you adjust for a few seconds until you signal for him to start moving.

The pace Chanyeol sets starts out slow at first with his chest pressing against yours and your legs drape around him in order to bring him in even closer. Desperate lips meet in the most unsophisticated manner that is all gasps and teeth occasionally bumping together, your noses pressed against each other.

However giving a lover Chanyeol is, he is also a very impatient one and soon picks up the pace of his hips. The feeling of your nails scraping down his back only serves as fuel to his passion and he makes you into a writhing mess beneath him.

”More Chanyeol. Need more.” You’re a babbling mess but Chanyeol seems to understand what you’re after and shifts himself off of you slightly to give your hand enough room to touch your aching clit. The stimulation heavenly against your neglected bundle of nerves.

”Fucking hell baby I can’t even begin to explain how pretty you look taking me right now. Would look even prettier with my hand around your throat though,” he tells you with a devilish tone. It gives you exactly the approval he knows you get off on so much. Knows that you love this more dominant side of him. ”You want that baby?” He continues, ”you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

”Yes Yeol, please. Need it.” The whiny tone to your voice makes him throw his head back. His neck looks absolutely appetizing from your position. Not a second later, the feeling of his large hand closing around your neck is all you can think about. Gentle pressure on the side your neck has your second orgasm for the evening approaching fast, fueled by your restricted airflow.

”Good?” Chanyeol questions while slowing down for a few seconds until he gets your consent.

You nod your head firmly but Chanyeol is not having it. ”Use your words baby.”

”Yes.” The word comes out forced due to the shortage of air but clear enough for your lover to continue and pick up the speed of his hips once more.

Lightheaded by the lack of oxygen, you feel yourself start to tear up. Just as a single tear falls, you feel him release his grip while telling you how pretty you are. His hand abandons its place on your neck and making you gasp for fresh air. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge and tell your lover this. Chanyeol in turn, leans down once again and captures your lips while making sure to increase his pace.

Your hands are everywhere yet somehow nowhere while trying to desperately find something to anchor you as he fucks into you with a newfound vigor. Finally settling on wrapping your arms around Chanyeol’s, you deepen the kiss, whimpering into your lip lock.

”Close,” you pant hastily into his mouth as he lets go for a second to breathe.

”Mm, me too.” He lets you know without letting up on his frantic movements. ”Come on baby, let go. I wanna feel you.”

His dirty words is exactly what you need to come undone in his arms. While coming down from yet another high you can tell that he’s almost there by the loss of rhythm.

”Where do you want me to come?”

Quickly coming to your senses your tell him exactly where you want it. ”Inside, want you to come inside please.” Chanyeol groans and with a few more thrusts and you clenching down around him, he comes with an even louder moan of your name before collapsing on top of you with an exhausted sigh.

Opting to instead lean over you on his forearms, Chanyeol presses one featherlight kiss on your nose and another one against your lips.

”I love you. You know that, right?”

You laugh warmheartedly. ”Mhm, how could I ever forget? You make sure to let me know several times a day, Yeol.”

”Just making sure,” he grins in return.

”And Yeol?” there’s a hum in response as he strokes your hair, eyes locked with yours.

”For the record, I love you too.” It’s cheesy but perfect for the moment nonetheless and Chanyeol retreats from inside of you. The stickiness between your legs pulls a grimace onto your face. You let your eyes fall shut as he lays down beside you, not having enough energy to clean up just yet.

”Feeling alright?” He asks from beside you and reaches out to take your hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

You roll onto your stomach and force your tired eyes open. ”Perfect,” you let him know while trying to get into a comfortable position with your naked chest pressed against his. Your warm skin sticks to his from the remaining sweat coating your bodies. It’s a nice feeling, you think, staying in the post orgasmic haze without needing to say much.

Smiling, you look at him for a long moment, wanting memorize his features as you brush his damp hair away from his eyes and steal a kiss. ”Absolutely perfect.”

#chanyeol #exo #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #exo smut #exo fluff #chanyeol x reader #park chanyeol #exo x reader #exo fanfic #why did i put myself through this #please be kind #this was not supposed to escalate like this #but here we are #i clearly need to rethink some life choices over here

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singledarkshade · 4 years ago

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Days Like This

Summary: Gideon's new circumstances are sinking in, but the doctor coming to see her may help. Sequel to Can I Return This Gift Author’s Notes: Second part of my Chuck AU – more will be written but doubtfully in any order. ********************************************* Gideon Ryder lay on her bed listening to her brothers in the other room making breakfast and talking over the news, trying to force herself to get up and face the day because two days ago, everything in her world had changed.

Her former best friend, Miranda Coburn, turned out to have been a rogue Argus agent who sent Gideon an email filled with secrets that were downloaded into her brain when she looked at the computer screen.

Now Gideon not only had the information appearing at random times, she had two Argus agents watching over her at all times. One of which had been very fixated on killing Gideon not that long ago.

“You know you start work in less than an hour,” Gilbert called through the door, “Hurry up or you’ll be late.”

Sighing Gideon fell out of bed and headed for a shower before sliding on her uniform, it was time to face the day.

Stepping into Palmer Tech, Gideon winced to hear Ray call to her. He was the nicest manager anyone could ever have but he also left the team to their own devices a lot so he could work on his projects. But if he talked to you then he usually wanted something.

“Good morning, Ray,” she turned to him with a smile, hoping he wasn’t upset she was late.

“Hi, Gideon,” he nodded, “We have a new member of staff and although they’re not for the crew, I know you’re the best person to train her.”

Turning Gideon froze to see Sara Lance, Argus Special Ops, standing there, dressed in the black trousers and red t-shirt that the Palmer Tech sales team wore.

“Meet Sara Lance,” Ray introduced them, not noticing the look of astonishment on Gideon’s face, “Sara, Gideon knows the store better than anyone so I will leave you in her capable hands.”

With that said he disappeared into the manager’s office.

“Well,” Gideon started, trailing off as Sara frowned at her.

Sara motioned her to walk and Gideon reluctantly followed the other woman towards the empty AI Crew desk.

“Here’s the deal,” Sara got straight to the point, “Rip and I are here to protect you until we work out a way to get all our secrets out of that head of yours.”

Gideon nodded, “Okay.”

“So, I am stuck here in this…” she grimaced in disgust, “Pathetic sales job while Rip will be playing your boyfriend.”

Feeling her eyebrows raise into her hair, Gideon squeaked, “Boyfriend?”

“Well, your friend already saw you two go on a date,” Sara rolled her eyes, “So it won’t be such a stretch. This means you do as we say, when we say it and any time you have a flash, you tell one of us.” When Gideon said nothing, Sara demanded, “Understand?”

Gideon nodded.

“Good,” Sara replied, “Who do I get around here to do my work for me?”

Shrugging Gideon noted, “Probably Nate.”

Sara nodded, “Great. Oh, and one more thing,” she gave Gideon a dark look, “Make sure you follow the rules, don’t make me regret being nice.”

With that said, Sara disappeared to join the other red shirts leaving Gideon watching her back.

Lunch finally came and Gideon headed out to the café across from the shop to get something to eat. Grabbing a chicken salad, Gideon headed out surprised to see Rip standing waiting for her. He was wearing dark jeans and a grey t-shirt under a brown leather jacket with sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Hi,” Gideon smiled despite herself, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought we could have lunch together while we go over our story,” Rip explained.

Gideon nodded, “Okay.”

Resting his arm around her shoulders, Rip drew her to the picnic tables on the edge of the park just behind the shop. Taking a seat Gideon smiled when he placed a soda next to her, her favourite kind. He placed one for him before he pulled out a sandwich for himself.

“I’m assuming Sara has already spoken to you,” Rip noted, “And I understand that it might be a little uncomfortable for you, but I promise there will be nothing untoward.”

“Rip, you have to understand I have not been in a relationship for a long time,” Gideon told him, “My brothers will be all over me to find out about you, they’ll demand to meet you and will try to intimidate you.”

“I’m not easily intimidated,” he gave a small amused smile.

Gideon chuckled.

“We have a doctor coming tonight to do some tests in the hope of removing the secrets from your brain, then you can get rid of us for good,” Rip told her, “So I will pick you up for date at eight tonight.”

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

Zari smirked as she leafed through Gideon’s closet, “Second date with your new guy. Are we going for sweet and innocent or sexy and seductive? Or did some things happen on your first all night date you won’t talk about?”

“I am going for comfortable,” Gideon replied, pulling out her favourite green top, “And nothing happened.”

Taking the top out of Gideon’s hand, Zari replaced it with a black one with lace sleeves, “This is a date top,” Zari told her, “That thing is for clearing out the cupboard with your brothers. This guy is hot and likes you, so maybe make an effort.”

Gideon watched Zari turn back to the closet before she shook her head sadly, she hated how excited Zari was that she’d met someone. The annoying thing was Gideon had liked Rip, and she thought they had really clicked except they hadn’t.

“Are you going out?” Gilbert asked appearing through the door, Gary following behind.

Gideon nodded, “I have a date.”

“Is this the same guy you were out with all night at the weekend?” Gary demanded.

Taking a long sigh Gideon nodded, “Yes, and before either of you try to be the overprotective big brother, don’t.”

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy,” Zari spoke up, instantly getting a dark frown from Gideon when the two men turned to her sharply.

Pushing them out of the room, Gideon stated, “No.”

“We should get to meet this guy,” Gary tried to protest as they were shoved out the door, “Just to make sure…”

“I will break every one of your computers if you even think about finishing that sentence,” Gideon threatened, “Now, go away. I am getting changed then going out.”

Shoving them through the door, she slammed it before either could say anything else.

“Don’t say another word,” Gideon stopped Zari speaking, before she snatched the top out of her friend’s hand.

Gideon felt her mouth go dry as Rip drew up in front of the building in a gorgeous black convertible giving her a smile when he stopped.

“Are you ready?” he jumped out and opened the passenger door for her.

Nodding, she slid in and watched him close the door before returning to the driver’s seat and drove them away. Gideon wished briefly that this really was a date, that instead of going to see some kind of doctor they were heading out for dinner or the cinema or anything fun, but they weren’t.

As handsome, interesting and sweet as Rip had been, it had been an act, so Gideon had to accept that - despite the appearances he’d made in a few of her dreams.

She frowned as Rip drew up at the store she worked in, “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

He chuckled, “We’re using the Home Cinema room for the tests, we didn’t want to expose you to an Argus facility.”

Relieved by that thought, Gideon didn’t notice Rip get out the car until he opened her door and offered his hand to help her out. Taking his hand Gideon felt Rip squeeze it briefly.

“Okay,” he said as he led her to the curtained off section of the store, “You have no need to worry about this. It’s just a few non-invasive tests, Sara and I will be here the entire time.”

Taking a seat on the couch, Gideon put the headphones on as Rip directed and turned to look at the screen. Rip disappeared leaving her alone and Gideon wished he was still there.

“We’re going to start now,” Sara’s voice came suddenly, “Alright, there are going to be some images on the screen. All you have to do is say what you see.”

Shrugging, Gideon leaned back and started to talk.

On the other side of the store Rip stood with Sara and Dr Wells, all listening to Gideon recite the secrets she had in her head as pictures were shown to her, her voice altered so he couldn’t identify her in any way. The man they’d brought in listened a look of amazement on his face, while Sara made sure he didn’t try to meet his patient.

“Well, Doctor?” Rip asked as the test ended.

Wells shook his head, “Incredible. We theorised that someone could hold that type of information in their head but all the tests we did showed it would be one in a million. The fact Patient X is not only storing but able to access these so well is astonishing.”

“But can you remove them?” Sara demanded.

Sighing Wells shook his head, “No,” he quickly held up his hand to stop them snapping, “At least not just now. The Intersect project was a specialist team and none of us worked on removing the information until we knew how to put it in.”

Rip frowned, disappointed for Gideon. But even though he knew Sara hated being here, Rip actually didn’t mind it. Central City was one of the more peaceful places he’d been sent to and, so far, this protection detail was one of the easiest.

Wells pulled together his things, “I will speak with Director Waller and perhaps next time, I’ll get to meet my patient.”

“I’ll see you out, Doctor,” Sara said, nodding to Rip before leading the other man out.

Rip headed back to where Gideon was waiting for him. The moment he opened the curtains, she looked round and her grey eyes looked at him hopefully. Taking a seat at her side, Rip took Gideon’s hand.

“I’m guessing the answer is no,” she said, looking down at his hand for a moment.

Rip sighed, “It’s not no, just not yet.”

“So, until then…”

“Until then,” he said when she trailed off, “You work with us and we will keep you safe.”

Sadly she nodded.

Against his better judgement, Rip wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her, “It’s going to be okay.”

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

Rip connected his comm to the TV screen in his new apartment and waited as it activated. A few seconds later Amanda Waller, Director of Argus appeared.

“Ma’am,” Rip nodded.

“Agent Hunter,” she stated, “Dr Wells has given me his report and it looks like you will be remaining in Central City indefinitely. Agent Lance will be joining us soon, but I wanted to speak to you first.”

Rip winced inwardly knowing exactly what this was about.

“Due to your personal history and connection with Agent Coburn,” Waller continued, “I want to know if you can do this job.”

Taking a slow breath Rip replied, “I can do whatever I need to. You sent me to protect the Intersect and I will do that to the best of my ability. Miranda betrayed not only the agency I took an oath to but everything I believed in.”

“Very well, Agent Hunter,” Waller nodded, “Your priority above and beyond everything else is Gideon Ryder. Her safety and her well-being, including her mental health is your main concern. The Intersect must be protected.”

Rip nodded just before Sara appeared on the other side of the screen.

“Agent Lance,” Waller nodded to her, “How are you settling into your new apartment?”

Sara’s distaste was obvious, “Just fine, Ma’am. I have the surveillance of the asset installed fully both in the apartment complex as well as the store.”

“Excellent,” Waller told her, “I know you usually both work for different departments, but you have been chosen for this assignment due to your unique skillsets. I expect you to work together to ensure the asset is protected.”

They nodded in agreement and the screen went blank. Alone once more Rip dropped to sit on the couch and pulled out his phone, flicking through the photographs of him and Miranda. They’d met the first day of training and were instantly paired together, when they finished training and were sent out into the world, they made sure to stay in touch. Meeting up whenever they were close to each other, and Rip loved her.

Finding out she had betrayed them to steal the Intersect had cut so deeply, and it was one of the reasons he was going to protect Gideon Ryder.

Because he wouldn’t let Miranda’s betrayal destroy anyone else.

#fic #legends of tomorrow #gideon #rip hunter #timeship #sara lance #zari tarazi #alternate universe #chuck au

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

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The Ballroom

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Roceit

I know how to write Roman, in theory. In practice, it takes hours to get right. And yet, I love him. Oh! And I actually remembered to insert the italics this time, so, you’re welcome :3.

Warnings: Self-Doubt, Delusions/Hallucinations (they r not that bad), slight Trust Issues (Janus, obvs), Established Relationships, First ‘i love you’, Mentions of Greek Mythology, References to Musicals (Hadestown Hadestown Hadestown!! they sing Wedding Song together ok??), and I vaguely imply that Roman has ADHD because of course I do.

Word count: 2,443

Every side had a room. Duh, common knowledge. The inhabitants of the Mindscape constantly barged in and out of each other’s domains without so much as a knock, usually to no more reaction than an irritated sigh. It wasn’t like it was a big deal to anyone, much like an actual family. If a trait wanted absolute privacy, well, they always had somewhere else to retreat to.

Thus brings us to the Extensions. It was well understood that you never visited one without express permission from the side who owned it. They were entirely personal settings, specific to the ‘individual’ that used it. The Extensions shifted and changed over time, just as each side’s representation, outlook, and even definition changed, but there had been a certain consistency upheld throughout the last three or four years.

Roman’s was a theater, beautiful and ornate with a high-ceiling and perfect lighting, which of course always followed him. Logan’s was a planetarium, allowing the user to view any part of the night sky, and providing essentially all known information on astrology for those that wanted it. Patton had a garden, always filled with fresh produce and hundreds of different types of flowers; humble fountains and birdbaths were dotted along the narrow brick path that ran through the large space, at which he could often be found resting with a bunch of chrysanthemums. Remus’ was, predictably, a museum filled with almost innumerable odd and grotesque objects and devices from history- it also served as an art gallery, on occasion, offering a strange sort of beauty. Virgil’s had changed the most over the years, but it had seemed to settle on something of a vinyl record library, complete with bean bag chairs to lounge in while you listened: perfectly fitting for the hipster emo that he was at heart.

And that left Janus. Of course, no one besides the snake himself had ever seen his Extension, and for a good long time he’d intended it to stay that way. It was his business and nobody else’s- why should he want to invite someone into such a personal environment?

But then he went and made the mistake of falling for just the someone to answer that rhetorical question. Someone who would surely be overjoyed to see it, and whom Janus loved dearly enough to maybe possibly let him.

It was a ballroom. Obviously Roman would love something like that.

When Janus first began contemplating showing his boyfriend the Extension, he’d wanted to do something along the lines of a masquerade. He quickly deemed it excessive for Roman’s first visit, though. Just a standard setting, then! But, no, Janus didn’t want to have any of his prop people distracting his very easily distracted partner, so that was out of the question. So he would stay simple. Simple didn’t get a big reaction. Simple could be brushed under the rug if it went somehow awry (and was also less likely to go awry). Simple let him breathe.

Yet somehow it remained terrifying. Honestly, Deceit was second-guessing letting Roman in even as he was leading them down the lengthy hallway, feeling regret clawing at him with each muffled thump of his heeled boots on the carpet.

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Loveliest Lie of All?”

“You’ll see when we get there. Come along, before I change my mind.”

Janus extended a gloved hand, which Roman took with enthusiasm. He was raring to go without even the slightest idea what they were doing. It was a hopelessly endearing quality.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it but half as much as you.”

“Only half?” Janus teased, narrowly avoiding returning the ‘L’ word, yet again (he wanted to, God did he want to, but the word died on his tongue every time).

Roman didn’t bat an eye at his deflection, merely leaning forward with a sappy smile.

“Naturally; nothing can match you, my dear.”

Yeah, no, he was committed now. This was, without a doubt, happening. Janus continued to lead his boyfriend along the hall, fielding all questions until they finally came upon the door. It was far taller than the ones around it, colored a bright canary-yellow. The trait took a deep breath and turned to Roman, whose face was bright with recognition as to what kind of entryway this was.

“This is your-”

“Yes.”

“You’re really going to show me-”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Roman traced a hand down the door frame, as if it would shatter at a firmer touch. His eyes were wide with excitement, a grin stretching across his lips.

Janus felt as though his stomach were doing cartwheels.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” It was a genuine question; Deceit was open to suggestions for reasons to wait. But Roman clearly hadn’t picked up on the hesitance, too caught up in his own exuberance.

Janus took a deep breath. He pulled the door open, and the two sides were immediately enveloped by brilliant golden light.

The ballroom was a showy place, which mightn’t have seemed to be the deceitful trait’s nature, at first glance- but, oh, did Janus adore just a dash of gaudiness.

Roman already knew this about him. Roman knew a lot of things that took a careful eye and a lot of trust.

Janus took the first step forward, holding Creativity’s hand in his and leading him into the baroque construct. The door snapped shut behind them, leaving them in glowing light cast down from crystalline chandeliers. Above them arched the ceiling, displaying murals of greek myths in perfect detail. The paintings danced and shifted around each other, even moving down the walls, as they played out dozens of ancient stories. It was like an animated oil painting, however impossible that would sound to a real human.

Soft music filled the ballroom, drifting around the pair. Janus usually dressed his Extension up with fake guests; people of his own design for him to talk and laugh with. It felt safe, reassuring even, to be completely in control of things, including your compatriots. But now, the room was empty, save for him and his real guest. Janus turned his gaze back to Roman, trying to disguise his nervousness.

“Well?”

Roman crosses his arms over his chest. He clicks his tongue, giving the surroundings a sweeping glance. At best, he’s unimpressed, at worst, he’s outright disdainful.

“All that buildup, really, for this? What is even the point of such an Extension, Janus?” Roman’s intricately designed shoes clack against the hardwood floor as he further examines the room. He stops in the center, whirling to face Janus. “I’d hoped that this big reveal would make up for all of your other failings as a partner, but I suppose you’re just fated to disappoint me! And it took you months to show me this waste of architecture? Now, that’s just pathetic.”

With a scoff, Roman leaves.

The scene Janus had unconsciously played came to an abrupt end. He staggered, blinking his eyes back into focus. Roman wasn’t looking down at him, gaze cold and unwavering; rather, he was spinning around the room as he drank in the decorations. He quite looked like he’d never had a malicious thought in his entire life, joyful as he was.

“Oh, Jay, this is gorgeous! Not as much as you, of course- but it is just astounding,” he beamed at Janus, who offered a smirk in return and rolled his mismatched eyes (though he could feel the human side of his face flush bright at the compliment). Before he had a proper response, however, Roman’s gaze caught on something behind him. The trait crossed the room in just a few strides.

“Is that…?”

Janus turned on his heel and followed, his eyes landing on the painting that distracted his prince. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, a colorful-yet-accurate depiction, ‘painted’ in a somewhat impressionist style. It was easily one of Janus’ favorite myths; evidently Roman was a fan just the same.

“I’m glad you like it,” the honesty was bitter on his tongue. It was well worth it. “I find mythology inspiring, to say the least.”

Creativity ran his hand along the mural, a giddy laugh escaping him. Without the slightest of warnings, he spun around and grabbed one of Janus’ hands in both of his.

“Lover, tell me, if you can- who’s gonna buy the wedding bands? Times being what they are. Hard and getting harder all the time,” his singing was elated and bubbly, the lilt of one well-familiar with the lyrics he recited. Janus laughed and leaned into his partner.

“You want to be Eurydice?”

“Just play along!”

Janus sighed, far too fond for the exasperation he’d been aiming for, and pulled Roman in close. He settled his hands at The Prince’s hips, leading them in a mostly formless dance.

“Lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers sing along. And they're gonna break their banks for me, to lay their gold around my feet. All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand. The river’s gonna give us the wedding bands,” once, Roman had told him his voice was honey, slow and sweet. That conversation came back to him, bringing a lanquidity to his singing just so he could soak in the lovestruck expression it earned him.

“Lover, tell me, if you're able, who's gonna lay the wedding table? Times being what they are. Dark and getting darker all the time.”

Their simply patterned steps led them in wide circles around the room. Janus subconsciously let the jazz that usually rang across his ballroom slip away, only to be replaced with the instrumentals to their ballad.

“Lover, when I sing my song, All the trees gonna sing along, And bend their branches down to me, To lay their fruit around my feet. The almond and the apple, And the sugar from the maple. The trees gonna lay the wedding table.”

And so on they continued for the song’s duration- taking their turns with the lyrics, eyes only for each other despite the beauty of their surroundings.

When Janus reached the last line, he drew out the note until his voice faded to nothing more than a lingering hum of the tune. Softly, his standard background music returned to accompany them as the remnants of their duet slipped away.

They eased to a gentle sway. Roman dropped his head onto Janus’ shoulder with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“What for, my dear?”

“Bringing me here. Trusting me,” Creativity mumbled into his collar.

“Of course,” Janus whispered, letting go of the side’s hips to properly wrap his arms around him.

Roman raised his head, just enough to look Deceit in the eyes.

“I love you,” he announced, open and honest and completely unexpectant- everything that Janus wasn’t. It was the same way he always said it; with a fierceness as though he was proving his point in an argument, yet somehow remaining gentle and caring. A mere statement, one that never even hinted at a need for response. It simply was, a fact thrown into the world with reckless abandon.

Nothing terrified Janus more. But, between the duet and Roman’s reaction to the Extension, Janus felt something a bit more foreign than fear welling in him.

Bravery.

“I love you, too.”

Roman pulls back from their embrace, a cruel laugh falling from his lips. He fixes Janus with a patronizing glare.

“Oh, you love me, do you? You sure know how to show it,” he taunts, backing further away from the snake. There is something dark that glints behind his eyes. “I only tell you that I love you a million times a day, to radio silence, and it’s only now you deign to reciprocate? Barely any fanfare, as though such a confession alone makes up for all the doubt you’ve brought me?”

Janus tries to speak, to make use of and flaunt his eloquence, to orchestrate those perfect sentences to craft himself some semblance of a defense. But all he can do is choke.

“I don’t know why I ever expected better from you. It’s obvious that you can’t change, Deceit.”

And Roman leaves.

Except he didn’t. It wasn’t real. Janus squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, blinking them open to see the real Roman- who, thankfully, seemed to be too preoccupied to take note of his… episode.

Roman was wide-eyed, completely still in Janus’ arms. He tilted back, and for a petrifying second the deceitful side thought he really was going to let go, but thankfully he didn’t go far. The Prince gripped tightly to Janus’ shoulders, holding on as if to keep himself steady. He let out a shaky laugh- soft and reverent and nothing like his nightmare version’s cackle. Because he wasn’t that, despite what Deceit’s mistrusting mind would try to convince him.

“You said it,” Roman said at last, his voice small but his smile wide.

“I’m aware,” finally, am I right? Janus bit his tongue on that. I’m sorry, he couldn’t find the strength to say. I mean it, I’ve meant it for so long, please believe me, also went unspoken. What he settled on was:

“This is the easiest thing in the world for me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Why? You tell me-” a shiver chased down his back, “-you tell me you love me a million times a day.”

“Yes, I do that. I suppose it’s just in my nature, after all. Regardless, it would be wrong of me to expect you act like me, because you’re you. And ‘you’ happens to be someone I love very, very much.”

Janus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“... I love you, too.”

Roman chuckled, bonking his nose against Janus’ affectionately.

“Two in one day? I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

“Shut up, I’m only to make up for lost time. Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not, my love.”

Janus sighed- relief, mostly, but infatuation crept its way into the sound. He picked up humming to the light melodies that played, resuming the swaying movements that had been forgotten in the face of confessions. Roman followed his lead, his grin delightfully infectious.

“We should get back soon,” the artistic trait admitted, sounding very much like he considered it someone else’s problem- one that he did not intend on concerning himself with, at that. Janus hummed, feigning deep thought. He let his head fall against Roman’s shoulder, eyes falling closed as he responded.

“Just one more song, Darling?”

“Oh, if you insist.”

“Insist I do.”

Roman stayed.

@shrimp-crockpot

#my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides #ts #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #roceit #ts janus #ts roman #roman #janus

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padosvivi · 4 years ago

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Review Of Voice Recorder

Voice Recorder is a type of digital audio recorder that can record audio and store it in its internal memory or external storage device such as a CD, DVD, or MP3 player. Sound recording and playback are a mechanical, electronic, electrical, or digitally electronic re-production and expression of sound waves, including vocal speech, music, spoken word, musical score, or other sounds. The two major categories of audio recording technology are digital audio recording and analog recording. Digital audio recording (DAR) uses digital technology to generate the sound. On the other hand, analog recording uses the analog signals captured by the microphone to create the sound.Interested readers can find more information about them at Eye Spy Supply.

A voice recorder is also handy to teach kids and adults how to say things like "It's dinner time, Mummy's coming home from work," "I'm fixing supper, I love you," and more. Teaching children to recite things like math facts, phone numbers, birthdays, songs, and the alphabet is a great way to help them learn how to talk properly and fluently. Some people have been abusing this technology by recording their own voice to recite things like horror stories, swear words, and negative words. There are even commercials on television for products using voice recordings to educate people about the dangers of certain products. However, not everyone is aware of the legality issues of recording your own voice to recite things.

If you are not sure whether or not your voice recorder can be used in one of these eight situations, you may want to consider buying a non-reciprocal license so you don't run afoul of any copyright laws. There are times when you will not be able to use these recording devices for whatever reason and you would need to take notes. However, you can still recoup some information from the audio if you have access to a calculator or other device that has a voice recorder. There are other uses for an audio recorder and they include remembering how to pronounce difficult words, practicing your accent, being able to practice your conversational skills on strangers, and remembering any important business meetings that you may need to attend. If you use it correctly, you can use an audio recorder for all of these reasons and more.

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hwayoungscorpioshin · 5 years ago

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Faceless | final

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Summary: Junho is hiding something and only you can uncover it.

Also known as Junho’s everyday life as a robot…or is he really?

“Good evening, gentlemen. This is your Captain, Lee Hangyul, speaking. Welcome onboard Flight X1 bound to YN.”

Few minutes ago, Junho has been dragged out of his dorm room and shoved into a black van parked outside the building where the others were already waiting inside.

Now, he’s seated between Hyeongjun and Seungwoo as Hangyul continues to recite his ridiculous pseudo-airplane captain announcement.

“Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones and fasten your seatbelt. Thank you for choosing Quantum Airlines. Enjoy your flight.”

Seungwoo slides the door closed and runs his hand across his face exhaustedly. “Just drive, Gyul.”

“What are you doing?” Junho asks when the van easily passes the South Gate, the guard of which probably has already been bribed by the other boys in advance.

Dongpyo, who’s seated at the very back with Minhee and Eunsang, makes an annoyed sound. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“Kidnapping me?” Junho quips.

“No.” It‘s Wooseok, sitting behind their row, who answers. “We’re helping you.”

Junho feels trapped and cornered. So, he ponders, if his friends think they’re helping him with anything, they’re dead wrong, because it doesn’t feel like it at all.

The car jolts a little and Junho’s stomach makes an uncomfortable churn. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Didn’t you listen to Hangyul earlier? We’re going to see YN at the airport,” Hyeongjun tells him.

Junho’s chest constricts at the mention of her name. She’s been sending him messages after that night at the bus stop but he hasn’t responded to any of them. That’s three days ago. This morning, just as he wakes up, she sends him another text, one that Junho is prepared to ignore again until he reads it.

She’s leaving.

He remembers himself thinking that he’s never going to see her again and that he’s fine with that. He needs to be fine with that, because if he can’t, he doesn’t know how much pain he can still handle.

“Hey, guys,” Eunsang yells from the far back, breaking Junho’s reverie.

When nobody answers, he continues, holding up his phone to his face. “Dohyon says they’re already at the airport but since his sister wants donuts, they’re going to buy some first before she goes into immigration.”

Seungyoun, who’s been silent all drive long, sits up in panic. “How long till we get there, Gyul?”

“I’m not sure but we’re really really near the airport now,” Hangyul replies.

And as if for emphasis, they hear the sound of a plane taking off. Underneath the noise, Hangyul’s phone rings. He tosses it over to Yohan who immediately answers without even looking at the caller ID.

Dohyon’s deep voice speaks in a whisper when the call connects. “Yo, Lee Hangyul, where ya at? My sister already has her donuts. You said you’d be here!”

Yohan brings the phone closer so Hangyul can speak over the phone. “We’ll be there in time! Just distract her a little. Like maybe cry or something.”

“Cry?” Dohyon whispers harshly. “You want me...to cry?”

Junho watches the cars outside. They’re almost at the drop off area now. But with the speed that they’re going, he’s not sure whether to believe they’ll be able to make it on time or not. He hears Dohyon on the phone tell Hangyul to hurry the fuck up or else they’ll miss her completely and Junho decides that he doesn’t believe they’ll make it. So, before Dohyon hangs up, he grabs the phone himself.

“Dohyon, where exactly are you?”

“Who the f—Lee Hangyul, is this the dumb boy who—“

Junho cuts him off instantly. “Please, just answer me. Where exactly are you?”

He hears Dohyon sigh on the other side and for a second Junho thinks he would not answer but then he suddenly gives him the instructions before ending the call with a ‘good luck’.

Junho doesn’t bother explaining. They probably have understood him anyway since Hangyul does a full stop and Seungwoo, who is sitting next to the door, quickly opens it.

“Thanks,” Junho breathes and then he leaps off the van.

His feet don’t land on the pavement as gracefully as he has imagined but he doesn’t care. Yohan yells at him to be careful and he sends him a thumbs up before immediately dashing away.

Dohyon’s mom gives the girl a tight hug before pulling away and brushing the hair from her face. She lovingly pats down the girl’s hair with a tight smile, like any moment now, she will suddenly burst to tears.

The girl doesn’t understand this woman’s affection towards her. After all, she’s not even her real mom. Still, she listens to what her father’s wife tells her and nods when she’s asked.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us again. You haven’t even been here for a year, YN,” the woman says, almost teary-eyed.

She smiles at the lady and pats her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Auntie. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Dohyon moves closer to her when his mom finally lets go and he gives her a long hug, longer than she expects and for a while, she thinks he’s probably stalling her, which he most likely is, but she lets him, anyway. She doesn’t plan on waiting for too long, though, because the moment Dohyon lets her go, she grabs her bags and turns straight to the departure gates.

She sees the panic in Dohyon’s eyes when she walks away and she hesitates a little. Because she knows, even when she’s promised Dohyon’s mom that she will be back before she knows it, she will also take her time away healing and possibly forgetting all the pain that she’s leaving behind. This could be the last time she’ll see them in a long while.

“Noona,” Dohyon calls, but he says it so softly, like a plea.

The girl looks at her watch. She doesn’t need to be in the immigration for at least an hour and a half. She’s got time but somehow, she doesn’t want to stay. There’s a nervousness that surrounds her when Dohyon reaches for her hand and she gives in.

“Stay a little longer, please, noona,” her little-not-so-little brother says.

She smiles. Her brother has never been this affectionate towards her their entire lives. She knows what’s up. Yet, she stays a little bit more, if only to accede to his request.

—

Junho is dripping in sweat. He has already asked a couple of people to point him to the departure area and still, he cannot get the instructions right. Ha has been running for almost fifteen minutes now and he does not know how long he can last until he loses the strength and will to look for the girl.

The last person he has asked for directions is a security guard who has given very straightforward instructions how to get there. He takes a moment to catch his breath and read the overhead signs. Nothing says ‘Departure Area’ like the guard has told him. Feeling defeated, he almost cries as he slumps down the pavement.

It’s over.

He will never be able to see her again.

He will never be able to talk to her again.

He will never be able to hear her sing again.

He will never be able to tell her he loves her.

At the last thought, he almost breaks down. What they say is true after all, Junho realizes. People will never realize how important someone is until they are gone.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Junho sniffles and waves off the stranger who is kind enough to ask. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure, Junho? You don’t look fine to me.”

He whips around so fast, he almost blacks out. And there she stands, in thick black hoodie and jeans, giving him a small smile as he takes in her features. Besides the tiny smile on her lips, the rest of her expression is unreadable. Junho thinks he is hallucinating the girl and the world is playing tricks on him for all the terrible things he has put her through.

He probably deserves this, too, he surmises.

So, instead of actually speaking, he stares at his hallucination of her as he stands up. She looks too real to be actually there. Soft, wispy hair and red lipstick. Junho smirks a little since this hallucination of her is just as good as the real deal.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

And just like that, the spell is broken. Junho realizes the girl is actually in front of him. She’s not a hallucination after all.

"YN..."

“What are you doing here, Junho?”

He scrambles for something to say. His legs are so tired they’re almost giving in again, but he feels like he needs to get it all out. Otherwise, it will consume him or the both of them. He does not know which is worse, not being able to tell her he loves her, or being able to but get rejected. Right now, though, he no longer cares.

He wants her to know.

“Junho,” she starts, “I need to go in a few minutes.”

“I know, I know,” he says, wiping his hand over his face. “I just need you to hear this, YN. Please, just this one time.”

Her eyebrows shoot up a little but she does not say a thing. Junho does not waste time, too. His desperation has overcome him and he is afraid if he does not say it now, he is not going to be able to say it ever.

“That night when I went to your room to apologize about the song, you asked me why can’t I be just me. To be honest, I’m still unsure how to answer that even now. But, YN, if there’s anything that I’m sure of at this moment, that is every time that I was with you, I was real.”

Junho meets the girl’s eyes and goes over to her. In the background, an announcer calls for the passengers of a certain flight. Feeling the urgency, he reaches out for her hand and holds it in both of his own. Her placid expression wavers a little, but she still does not speak.

“I can atone for all the things I’ve put you through and it would still not be enough. I just wanted to tell you I’m so sorry...for everything.”

The girl takes a sharp breath and squeezes his hand back. “I already forgave you, Junho. Stop beating yourself up.”

He tears up a little at her words. He thinks he does not deserve this girl. For all he knows, she probably does not even feel the same thing for him anymore. At least, not after the past few weeks. A small part of Junho tells himself not to tell her anymore. After all, she is going away soon and she does not need to bring with her anything that will trouble her more.

Still, the bigger, more insistent part of him tells him that it is now or never. If he does not say it now, he will never get the chance to say it at all.

So, Junho resolves, as he steps closer to her, to finish what he has come to do and if all hell breaks lose after that, then so be it.

“YN, there’s something else I need to tell you,” he starts, “I’m sorry I took so long to realize this but I want to let you know that I love you.”

The girl breaks into a smile. Then, everything starts to happen all at once. His friends are suddenly yelling and running towards him in a festive mood. Dohyon, who is standing somewhere nearby, yells ‘finally’. And the people surrounding them erupts to an applause.

“We thought your dumbass would never be able to do it,” Eunsang tells him as he ruffles Junho’s hair.

Hangyul and Yohan crashes him into a hug before shaking him crazily and passing him off to the other guys. Wooseok gives him a pat on the back while Dongpyo, Hyeongjun and Minhee all congratulate him in various degrees of teasing. At the back, Seungwoo and Seungyoun are standing behind all the chaos and Junho tips his head to the both of them which Seungyoun returns with a small salute. Seungwoo meets his gaze and nods back.

Junho looks back at the girl. She’s smiling and laughing at them. He untangles himself from his friends and makes his way back to her.

“Sorry about that,” he tells her.

The girl wipes something under her eye and flashes his friends another smile. “It’s okay. I kinda knew they’d do that. They’re so funny.”

“Hey,” Junho calls her attention. “I hope you know I’m serious about you.”

She turns to him and gives him a knowing look. “I know. I just needed you to say it.”

Then, she pulls him to her and whispers in his ear, “I still like you, if you’re wondering, but you need to win me over again if you want to be together.”

Junho can only stare at the girl as she pulls away and winks at him. She smiles over his friends again and bids them her goodbye. When she turns to him last, she places a hand on his face.

“I’ve got to go. Don’t forget to call me,” she says and pinches his cheek before turning around and walking over to her family who has been waiting the entire time.

He is suddenly dumbstruck and the fact that she is acting so coyly now confuses him a lot more. Still, one thing he definitely knows right now is that the girl still feels the same way.

And it is only a matter of time before he wins her over.

A/N: I was so excited to post this. So, here it is 😊🎉 I hope you guys enjoyed Faceless as much as I did. See you all in the next series 💓

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#x1 #x1 au #cha junho #han seungwoo #cho seungyoun #kim wooseok #kim yohan #lee hangyul #son dongpyo #kang minhee #lee eunsang #song hyeongjun #nam dohyon #junho imagine #junho au #junho fanfic #junho reaction #faceless

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that-shamrock-vibe · 5 years ago

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Disney+ What To Watch: My Top 10 Favourite Disney Classics

#2. Aladdin

Okay so there are several reasons as to why this is my #2 favourite and most of them come from a completely nostalgic point of view. But the main reason is this is the movie that first became the doorway for me to access multiple medias within the Disney franchise, not only the movies but also the television series and the video games.

But another reason why this is at #2 is because this is my sister’s favourite Disney Classic and so growing up we watched this a lot as well as my #1 favourite and so we were able to almost recite the movies word for word.

The sequels also play in hand as to why this movie is at #2 because they’re the only complete trilogy of Disney classics we own and, despite the dwindling quality of the sequels, it stands the original in a great light in comparison as well as the fact the sequels aren’t particularly required to get the most out of the first movie.

Also, Aladdin is the first time I was able to truly appreciate animation both in character design and scenery. Everything from the Arabian Desert as the Peddler rides towards Agrabah to the world-building seen in “A Whole New World” is simply magnificent.

In terms of story, it combines the best elements of rags to riches, prince and the pauper and even the liar-revealed plot devices we see a lot. But whereas the live-action adaptation made Aladdin come across as arrogant and power thirsty when he was accepted as Prince Ali, this version made it seem like Aladdin had no other choice but to continue lying.

The theme of the story is simple yet thoughtful, it’s about being happy with who you are and that someone should like you for you and not for your wealth or title.

This has proven a great message for younger people to retain particularly as they go through adolescence, which is why Aladdin��or really any major Disney movie isn’t just for little kids and instead transcends the ages because I believe anyone of any age can learn something from a Disney movie if they think on it.

The characters are all very likeable, even the villains, this is why I love this movie. Jafar and Iago are the villains of the movie and Razoul the head guard serves as a tertiary antagonist of sorts, but all three are portrayed in such a manner that you either love to hate them or in some cases are rooting for them.

This was also the first Disney Classic movie where I felt genuine threat to a Disney hero because yes being cursed to sleep is a real “hopelessness” situation, but the amount of times Aladdin is put into a genuine hopelessness situation in this movie from being trapped in the Cave of Wonders, to being knocked unconscious in the sea to even being banished to the arctic...all of this is real no-win in terms of how to overcome it...unless you have a magic genie and flying carpet which is why I love Disney.

I do think there’s a lot more comic relief in this movie then in a lot of other Disney Classics as effectively everyone aside from Aladdin, Jasmine and Jafar are comedic characters. Abu does have serious moments and the Genie has a lot of pain being masked with his humour but they’re all hilarious for the right reasons.

On the subject of the Genie...do I even need to say why this character is so brilliant? Not only is he voiced by the late great Robin Williams who makes the character so iconic, but you would think after so many times watching a movie that the excitement of him would wear off, yet sure enough every viewing when it’s the build up to his first appearance and every subsequent time he is on screen,

Jasmine is one of the best Disney Princesses. She, along with Mulan and Belle are probably my favourites of the Disney Classics era and Jasmine remains one of my favourite female Disney characters to this day.

Aladdin is a great leading character, not only is his story from being a street rat to faking his way into being a prince very cleverly done, but the guy is just so likeable you want him to do well. He’s a charmer but he has a heart, he’s not so much a hustler as doing what needs to be done to survive.

Jafar is one of the great Disney Villains, not only was it great that he was a male sorcerer villain, because up until this point we had only really the greats being the Ursulas, the Maleficents and the Evil Queens, but also he had all the best qualities of the lesser-known male villains that had come before him, such as Edgar the butler, with the fact he started off the movie serving the good guys before his true intentions were revealed.

As for the animal sidekicks, and I include Carpet here, it, Abu and Iago all had great moments where they either shined or were simply funny. When Gilbert Godfried is voicing a parrot you know he’s going to be a comedic foil rather than a sinister one.

Musically, “Arabian Night” “One Jump Ahead” “Friend Like Me” “Prince Ali” “A Whole New World”, it’s a complete soundtrack for me and one of few Disney classics where I love every single song.

I touched upon it with The Rescuers Down Under but Disney branching out around the world rather than make believe kingdoms contained within Europe (largely France and Germany) was really a great move for the Mouse House and capturing that Arabian theme and feel was really enriching for the property.

Overall Aladdin is a fantastic movie that branched out into two sequels as well as a continuing television series. Also the Aladdin Sega game was one of the first games I ever played. I love the movie, but my #1 is irreplaceable for me.

So what do you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Disney+ What to Watch Top 10s as well as more Top 10 Lists and other posts.

#aladdin #disney #disney+#disney plus #disney+ what to watch top 10s #disney+ what to watch #my top 10 favourite disney classics

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years ago

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Ten → in which Nick spills some Bitter Tea

“Alright.” Quigley said. “We’ve got it.”

Him, Violet and Lilac had pulled burnt wood over the top of the swimming pool, which had been emptied of water some time before. Solitude had just finished tying Quigley’s rope to the end of the archway, in case one of them fell and needed a way out. Nick was standing off to the side with the Verdant Flammable Device, as well as Colette’s hand mirror. He watched the moon above them; night would be over soon, and he’d be able to light the device using the scientific principles of convergence and refraction of light. Esme wanted cigarettes, which she thought the devices were, so she’d come for them. And they’d be ready.

Lilac sat beside Nick, as Solitude walked over and crawled onto his lap, cradling a frozen Babbitt in one of her hands. Violet, Klaus and Quigley sat near them, and soon they were all in a small circle.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Violet asked.

“Who gives a shit anymore?” Nick huffed as Solitude cuddled against his sweater.

“Nick, we’re kidnapping someone to hold for ransom.” Lilac said, curling up. “Is this what our parents would do?”

“Our parents aren’t here.” Klaus sad. “They might have been here once, but they’re not now.”

They fell quiet and stared at the center of the circle, where the box of Verdant Flammable Devices was placed.

“He took Sunny first.” Nick finally said.

Lilac shut her eyes. “Count Olaf captured Sunny, and we may have to capture someone ourselves to stop him.”

Nick nodded, and then he spat, “We’ll just have to fight fire with fire.”

“What if she sees us before she falls in?” Quigley asked.

“We can hide behind the archway.” Violet said. “And wear our masks, they’re still here. Then she won’t even know who has her. We can pretend to be Volunteers-”

“Sure.” Nick said. “We can be Volunteers who want to recruit our innocent little baby. They’ll believe that.”

That last bit didn’t sound sarcastic. “Nick, buddy, do you need anything?” Klaus asked.

“I need you all to shut the fuck up.” Nick said.

“Nick.” Lilac carefully put her arm around him. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

Nick scratched his arm and bit his lip, and then he said, “I just… think you’re a bit too excited about VFD.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Quigley asked. “Jacques said-”

“Jacques lied.” Nick said, and Quigley jumped. “VFD isn’t great, Quigley, and it isn’t noble.”

“Y-yes it is!” Quigley said. “The book-”

“They wrote that book, Quigley! To convince people to join them! But your siblings saw through that shit. Do you even know what they do?”

“We… we seek knowledge. We keep secrets-”

“You’re spies for a cult.”

“No, we’re not!”

“Stop fighting!” Solitude shouted.

“You’re spies for a fucking cult,” Nick said, “And our parents were, too!”

“Nick!” Lilac shouted.

“Nick, our parents-” Klaus began.

Nick threw his hands over his ears, and started to shake. “VFD made him! They made all their own enemies! This is their fault and I want you all to shut the fuck up about them, okay? Shut the fuck up!”

They stared at him a moment, and then Violet said, “We should get some sleep. Before we kidnap Esme.”

Nick huffed and stared at the ground, and then Lilac said, “We can sleep in shifts-”

“I’ll guard.” Nick said.

“You need sleep.” Klaus reminded him.

“Fuck off.” NIck said, lifting Solitude off of his lap. “I’ll be over there.”

He walked over to a fallen pillar, sitting on it and staring off into the distance.

His siblings watched him, and then Solitude said, “What’s a cult?”

“It’s…” Klaus hesitated. “It’s a group that religiously worships something, but the group is detrimental to the individuals. Like when a group says they’re a religion, but make their members donate all their money or sacrifice their entire lives. They… make people feel like they’re part of something, so that they’ll feel like they have no choice but to stay, because they think they’ll be nothing if they leave.”

Solitude shivered, and Quigley stared at the ground.

“VFD doesn’t make people sacrifice money, does it?” Solitude asked.

“I… I don’t know.” Lilac said, her voice shaky. “We don’t know a lot about it.”

“Why did our parents keep it a secret?” Violet asked. “Why keep any of this secret? They should have told us.”

“Maybe they didn’t want us in danger.” Lilac whispered.

“Or maybe Nick’s right.” Solitude said. “And they didn’t want us in the curt.”

“Cult.” Klaus corrected.

“It’s not a cult!” Quigley raised his voice. “It’s a noble organization that our parents were in! They… they must’ve had a reason for not telling us anything. We’re helping people.” his voice broke slightly. “We’re helping… we’re…”

Violet put an arm around him, and he leaned onto her shoulder. Her siblings glanced between them, and then Lilac said, “I’ll switch out with Nick when he gets tired. We really should get some sleep. We can talk about this when we have Sunny back.”

“We will get her back, right?” Klaus said.

Lilac put a hand over his, and promised, “We will. I don’t care what we have to do. We’ll get her back.”

Nick watched the sunrise, scratching his arms and bouncing his legs and trying to focus. Focus on when the light would be high enough to use the mirror to light the device, on what he was going to do when she showed up… he’d have to face her. But he’d have a mask, and be with his siblings. It’d be like the carnival. He wouldn’t be seeing her alone. And… and he’d be in control.

He sighed and leaned against the fallen pillar, staring up at the sky. He bounced his leg faster, and then started to recite to himself.

“They fuck you up, your Mom and Dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had…”

“Then add some extra, just for you.”

Nick jumped and turned, to see that Quigley had walked over. “It’s okay.” Quigley said, holding up his hands, as if to show he wasn’t armed. “It’s just me. Lilac wanted to swap out with you a while ago but she fell asleep. I… I just woke up. Have you been awake this whole time?”

He nodded. “I don’t sleep much anymore.”

Quigley slid next to him, also bouncing his legs.

“Where’d you learn the poem?” Nick asked.

“Isa had a huge collection of what me and Duncan called ‘goth poetry.’” Quigley said, smiling. “She likes to recite, too. Verbal stim.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah.”

“Where’d you learn the poem?”

Nick didn’t answer.

Quigley took a breath. “Look, I’m-”

“I’m sorry I blew up at you.” Nick said, deciding to look anywhere but at Quigley. “But I… I can’t talk about things much without my… my emotions going nuts. I… found out a lot of stuff while they had me, and… I guess my mind connects the knowledge with… I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so… defensive.” Quigley said. “And I’m sorry that happened to you.” He shut his eyes. “Are… are you sure Duncan and Isadora are okay?”

“They’re better than I am.” Nick curled up and put his chin on his knees, rocking slightly. “They were… I was being serious, when I said they’re the only reason I’m still alive.”

Quigley bit his lip. “They think I’m dead, don’t they?”

Nick nodded. “But they miss you a lot.”

“I don’t want them to miss me, I want them to see me.” Quigley sighed. “But you… you said that they’re… not fans of VFD?”

“They read the book and saw through the propaganda, yeah.”

“It’s-” Quigley cut himself off. “Sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay. You got sucked in. I probably would’ve if it wasn’t for them.” Nick glared at the ground. “Maybe our parents wanted that. To trade us into VFD once we were old enough.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they kidnap kids and call them recruits, Quigley. Did you ever hear The Little Snicket Lad?”

“I know it’s an old nursery rhyme, but Mother said I wasn’t allowed to listen to it. I just assumed it had curse words or sexism.”

“Nope.” Nick said.

“Is it about Jacques?”

“His brother. The verses tell the story of a baby living on a farm. And you wanna know what the chorus is?”

“I’m guessing it’s not good.”

Nick shut his eyes.

“And then they took him, yea, they took him They took him far away They took him in the dead of night Beneath a moon of gray They took him from the kitchen Like you’d take a midnight snack The VFD they took him And they never brought him back.”

“It’s… it’s just a nursery rhyme.”

“It’s not. Snicket’s real. And he…” Nick shivered. “Let’s just say he’s definitely real. Maybe even still alive.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure about a lot of things anymore,” Nick put a hand over the space on his jacket that he knew his mother’s necklace was under, “But I don’t present guesses as facts. You wanna know the coda?”

“Not especially.”

“When we grab you by the ankles Where our mark is to be made You’ll soon be doing noble work Although you won’t be paid When we drive away in secret, You’ll be a Volunteer…”

Nick spat out the last two lines, staring daggers at the ground, while Quigley shivered beside him.

“So don’t scream when we take you The world is quiet here.”

They sat in silence for a long while. And then Quigley said, “What happened to you was really fucked up.”

“Same with you.”

They sat in silence for a little longer, and then Nick said, “Okay, subject change, was the slope climbing a date or not, because I have a bet with Lilac-”

“What?” Quigley jumped.

“If you know what’s good for you,” came Lilac’s voice from behind them, and then she jumped over the pillar and slid beside them, “You won’t answer that.”

Nick bit his lip. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. The sun’s about up.” Lilac said. “So… I guess we’re doing this.”

Nick clenched his fists. “Yeah. We are.”

“Look.” Lilac said. “We don’t…”

Nick stood up, taking the mirror and the box of devices. “Let’s fight fire with fire.”

“What are you doing over there?”

Sunny glanced over her shoulder as Count Olaf and Esme Squalor exited their tent; Esme was wearing some sort of gaudy flame dress that looked like someone had set her on fire. Sunny really wished someone had set her on fire. She looked back to the White-Faced Women, before kicking her casserole dish to the side.

“We were just asking the baby what she was doing with the eggplant.” said a woman.

“Who gives a damn?” Olaf said. “We have a recruitment to get started. Just think, we’ll have more troupe members today than ever before!”

“We’ll need them, if we’re going to set the Hotel Denouement on fire.” Esme said.

Sunny covered her mouth so they couldn’t see her smile.

God. They were so fucking dumb.

“I’ll open us a bottle of wine!” Olaf said.

“I’d get us green cigarettes,” Esme said, “But I can’t find any more. Why do the worst things always happen to me?”

Sunny raised an eyebrow at her.

“Begging your pardon,” said one of the White-Faced Women, “But there’s some green smoke down at the bottom of the waterfall.”

“Really?” Esme asked eagerly, and she ran to look in the direction the henchwoman was pointing. Sunny crawled around the car to see a familiar plume of smoke.

What are they trying to say to me?

“That’s strange.” Olaf said. “You’d think there’d be nothing left of the headquarters to burn.”

“Look how much smoke there is!” Esme said. “There must be a whole pack of cigarettes down there!”

“I’ll have the baby go down and get them for you.” Olaf said.

“Yessir.” Sunny hid her smile again.

“No! The baby would probably steal all the cigarettes for herself!” Esme huffed. “I’ll go myself!”

“Climbing down would take forever.” Olaf said. “Don’t you want to be here for recruitment?”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Esme said, going towards the toboggans, “I’ll be back in moments. I’ll just take one of these and be on my way.”

“Bitch.” Sunny said, which meant something like, “Bitch.”

“What was that, baby?” asked a White-Faced Woman.

Sunny sat down and crossed her arms. “Goo-goo.” she said, which meant, “I’m just a helpless baby, ignore me.”

“Get into the casserole dish until it’s time for you to cook again.” Olaf said. “As for the rest of you! Help me with the net!”

“Is that Esme?” Klaus asked.

Violet gave him a look from where she stood with the spyglass. “Who else would wear a dress like that?”

“Come on,” Lilac said, “We can hide in the library.”

The group turned and ran, not wanting to be in sight when Esme Squalor got to the bottom of the hill. Klaus grabbed onto Nick’s arm, and he said, “Nick, are you gonna be-”

“I’ll be fine.” Nick spat, not looking him in the eye. “Let’s just trap the shithead, okay?”

They ran under the archway that still stood to mark the library, scampering back.

“You think she’ll find the pit?” Violet asked.

“We set the fire over there.” Nick said. “She’ll find it.”

They all looked to each other uncomfortably, except for Nick, who just stared up at the sky. Then Klaus glanced up, too, and said, “What’s that? Under the archway?”

The siblings peered up, and realized there were four words etched under the “Library” marker.

“The world is quiet here.” Quigley read.

Lilac shut her eyes. “The world is quiet here.” she repeated. “I’ve heard that so much. And it… it sounds familiar. Like I should know it.”

“Familiar?” Solitude asked.

Lilac nodded, lost in thought. “I think… a very long time ago. Before the twins were born, maybe.”

“You think someone said those words to you?” Violet asked.

Lilac shook her head and hummed slightly. “I think… someone sang them.” Quigley and Nick shared a look, and then Lilac said, “I think we’re doing the wrong thing.”

“No, we’re not.” Quigley said.

“We agreed to fight fire with fire.” Nick said.

“If everyone fought fire with fire,” Violet said quietly, “The entire world would go up in smoke.”

“I…” Klaus said carefully, picking up Solitude, who leaned onto his shoulder, “I remember reading a book by a famous philosopher, where he said… ‘Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.’”

Nick shook his head, as Quigley asked, “What happened to that philosopher?”

“He’s dead.” Klaus said. “Lilac’s right. We shouldn’t do what they do.”

“We’re not becoming monsters, Klaus.” Nick said. “We’re getting our sister back. Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna traumatize her.”

“It’s wrong.” Lilac said, her eyes tearing up. “We’re doing something wrong.”

“This is bad.” Solitude muttered, her eyes widening.

“Oh my gosh…” Quigley backed up, putting his hands on his face.

“We’re doing something bad.” Violet said.

And then Nick snapped.

“Who cares?”

They jumped. “Nick!” Lilac said.

“Who cares if it’s bad?” Nick said. “The world’s been shit to us forever, Li. We’ve had to hurt and lie to survive. Who cares if we kidnap a villain? We’re just doing it to get Sunny. We’re not doing it to steal or kill someone innocent.”

“Nick, we’re trapping a woman to ransom her off!” Violet said. “None of that rings alarm bells?”

“Oh, like the alarm bells you heard when Sunny said she wanted to stay on the mountain?”

“Nick, you need to stop.” Lilac said sternly. “Listen, we won’t let Esme hurt you, but we can’t hurt her, or we’ll become her.”

“No.” Nick stepped back. “No, you’re just going to let her go. We can’t let her or him get away with this! Not when they have Sunny! Not when they’re getting away scot-free!”

“Nick, please.” Klaus said, as their baby sister whimpered. “You’re scaring Soli.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Violet promised, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing will go wrong, we’ll just put on our masks and tell her she’s about to walk into a trap, and then pull her up the slope.”

“We can figure out another way to get Sunny.” Klaus said, as Quigley left to grab the masks.

Nick looked from his twin, who was giving him a comforting smile, to Violet, who was still holding his shoulder, to Solitude, who was watching him cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d have to console him or not. And then he looked to Lilac, who was still staring up at the archway.

The world is quiet here.

And then Nick said, “No.”

He ripped himself away from Violet, pushed past Klaus, and tackled Quigley to the ground.

“Nick!” Violet shouted, as Lilac whipped around and gasped.

“What the-” Klaus began.

“Nick! Hey!” Quigley shouted, trying to throw him off, but Nick just threw a hand over his mouth and pulled him back.

“Nick! Let go of him!” Violet started forwards.

That’s when they heard the crash, and Esme’s scream.

They all fell silent for a second, and then Nick let Quigley go.

He stood up, and calmly walked past them, through the archway, and towards the abyss.

By the time his siblings thought to run towards him, he was already at the pit, circling over to the far side. He knelt by the empty hot tub, staring down past the broken wood. She’d stepped right on it, and he could see through and see her. She was pacing and shouting, furious.

“Get me out of here at once! Being trapped in a hot tub is even less In than getting in a hot tub on purpose!”

“Nick!” Lilac whisper-shouted; his siblings and Quigley had stopped at the other edge of the pit. “Get back here!”

“I can make a pulley to get her out.” Violet muttered, pulling out her ribbon.

“No.” Nick said, his voice eerily calm. “Let her rot.”

He looked down at the pit, at the exact moment Esme looked up.

There was a flash of recognition, and then she smirked. “Well, well, well.” she said. “If it isn’t Beatrice’s little angel.” Nick’s hand flew to his necklace, as his glare intensified. “Fancy seeing you here, I thought you were supposed to be smashed at the bottom of the mountains.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Nick said. “I thought you were supposed to be somewhere in the second circle of hell, but I guess you can’t have everything, can you?”

“Nick!” Lilac shouted.

“Oh, wonderful!” Esme turned, able to glimpse the other children. “Your brat siblings survived, too. And who’s that?” she narrowed her eyes at Quigley. “Wait, no. I know you. We had you, too. Didn’t you get sent up in a balloon?”

“Why he’s here doesn’t matter.” Nick said, and then he smiled very coldly and said, “What matters is you’re our hostage now, so I’d suggest you shut the fuck up and do what we tell you to do.”

Esme let out a wicked laugh. “That’s not how this works, orphan. You’re a Baudelaire, you’re a Volunteer, and Volunteers are too weak to get what they want.”

Nick’s face darkened, and he waited for Esme to finish laughing before he said, very clearly, “I am not a Volunteer.”

He reached to the side, grabbing a broken plank, and he used it to smash more of the shattered wood. Esme screeched and leapt back, and Lilac ran forwards as fast as she could, grabbing his arms and yanking it back.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Nick glared at her, trying to pull away, and he said, “I’m showing her we mean fucking business!”

He finally opened his hands and dropped the plank, and Lilac let go, stepping back. “Nick, this isn’t you.” she said, tears springing to her eyes.

Nick gave her a long look, and then he said, “I haven’t been myself for a long time. And it’s because of her and her fucking organization.” He turned to the others, and he said, “We’re bringing her up to trade for Sunny. Get everything ready. I’ll make sure our path is clear.”

He looked back down at Esme, who was giving him the most vicious glare she could. She hissed, “You’re truly your Mother’s son, aren’t you, you little shit?”

“I’m not.” Nick said, and then he added, “She’s not the one who did this to me. And listen up, bitch.” He knelt down again so he could get as close to her as was safely possible. “If you lay a fucking finger on any of them,” he gestured to his siblings and to Quigley, “Or to Sunny, what I do to you will be a million times worse than what you’ve already done. And don’t think that I won’t or can’t. This is what you did.”

He stood back up, and said, “Now tie her to something.”

#asoue #asoue movie #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the slippery slope #mine #my fanfic

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darkobsidianquill · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness.

Chapter Twenty One

When Harry arrived in the Manor he was already out of breath from having just raced through the castle, across the grounds, and towards Hogsmeade until he'd finally reached the edge of the wards.

He appeared with a now practiced ease and instantly resumed his fevered race up the stairs and towards Voldemort's study. He burst through the door with clenched teeth, and barely restrained fury. Voldemort instantly sensed the boy's anger and stood to his feet just as the other entered the room.

"THAT LYING, MANIPULATIVE, DECIETFUL BASTARD!" Harry bellowed as he slammed the door behind him and began to pace back and forth across the front half of the room.

Voldemort relaxed against the front of his desk and folded his arms across his chest as he observed the clearly furious boy standing before him.

"HE, HE... ARGGGH! I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!" He continued as his arms flailed in the air in angry violent motions. "Everything! Every fucking thing was – was... FUCK! He did it all! It was all fucking Dumbledore!"

"Am I to understand that you discovered the prophecy?" Voldemort said as Harry's ramblings ebbs slightly.

"Oh I fucking found it alright!" Harry snarled. "Both of them!"

Voldemort pushed himself off the desk and rose a single questioning eyebrow. "Explain."

Harry snorted, but not in humor – in disgust. "The one that your spy saw? Fake. Big, fucking FAKE. Dumbledore put Trelawney under the bloody Imperius curse. The real job interview happened up in his office a day earlier, and while there, Trelawney made a REAL prophecy. But the realprophecy didn't exactly sound all that promising to the old goat, so Dumbledore implanted the suggestion that the interview hadn't happened and that she was to come back for the interview the next day and then he used the fucking Imperius curse to make her go into a 'trance' and reenact the the 'prophecy' but replace it with one of his own wording. The one your spy witnessed was fabricated by Dumbledore in one of his elaborate fucking manipulations!"

The Dark Lord's eyes began to glow with a ruby red fury and his rigid posture barely concealed his inner anger. "I want to see everything you've seen. Come with me," Voldemort said as he quickly walked towards Harry and then past him, out the door. Harry followed behind, still fuming in his own right. They went to the room on the third floor filled with the strange assortment of magical items, where Harry had picked out his Cypress wand.

Voldemort went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a large ornate basin and set it on the table in the center of the room.

"Are you familiar with pensieves?"

"Only vaguely," Harry admitted in a more subdued voice. The powerful raging fury had been stoked and by his swirling angry magic, but now that he was in the Dark Lord's presence, he felt his magic swirling much more tightly around him. He was still angry beyond words, but he felt more in control of it, which was a bit of a relief. He focused on the dark lord as he quickly explained the technique necessary for pulling out a specific memory from his mind and within a minute Harry had his cypress wand to his temple and was extracting his memory of his visit to Sybil Trelawney.

The two dipped their heads down to the pensieve at the same time and were instantly surrounded by the feeling of falling, instantly replaced by suddenly standing in headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office.

The office was very much the same as Harry knew it to be; only a few things were different. A number of the strange silver devices that puffed little wiffs of smoke, and made erratic clicking sounds were absent in this earlier version of the headmaster's office. Harry was pretty sure that at least one of the things he took note of being missing were actually used for monitoring the wards on Privet Drive, so it made sense for them not to exist yet in this memory.

Harry turned to his right and saw the Dark Lord in all his glory standing beside him, looking around the room with mild interest. Sybil Trelawney was sitting in the chair opposite the desk, while Dumbledore sat in his overstuffed chair. Trelawney was already in the middle of going on about her experience and her hereditary qualifications. Dumbledore looked visibly bored, but was putting forth a legitimate effort to feign interest.

"I managed to track this memory down after almost a solid twenty minutes of digging through her mind," Harry said quietly to the Dark Lord standing beside him. "It seems that Dumbledore was hesitant to do any really powerful obliviations against her. I think he was afraid if he messed with her head too much he might screw up her gift or something," Harry said, rolling his eyes at the word 'gift'.

"That's a reasonable concern. If she had made one legitimate prophecy, she could be capable of making more. If he cast too many powerful mind altering spells on her, it could easily prevent any future prophetic visions from manifesting properly," Voldemort mused.

They waited for about twenty seconds more when Harry spoke again, "This is it. This is where the memory switches over to the prophetic vision that was stored in her subconscious with her other prophecies."

Trelawney went rigid and her eyes fogged over, completely white. Her voice went down several octaves as she began to speak in an eerie voice.

"The only one with the power to match the Dark Lord approaches...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

The Dark Lord will come for him and mark him as his equal.

He will have two paths from which to chose. From one path, the End will fall upon us all. From the other, we shall be saved.

The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together, or destroy each other.

For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives..."

Dumbledore stood there, staring at Trelawney with a stunned, dumbfounded look, rarely seen gracing his features. Trelawney came out of her trance, coughed a few time and looked rather confused.

The memory began to dissolve away then and was slowly replaced by a new one. Trelawney was entering the Hog's Head and speaking loudly to the bar tender that she had a very important appointment with the Headmaster. She introduced herself, loudly, as Sybil Trelawney, great-great granddaughter of the great seer, Casandra Trelawney. She was being about as unsubtle as a person could be.

A rather noteworthy thing about the memory was the strange purple haze that everything had.

"The Imperius," Voldemort observed.

"That's what I thought too," Harry said, nodding his head. "The whole memory reeked of the Imperius curse. It just has that vibe to it."

The two followed as Trelawney was lead up the stairs into one of the private rooms, where she waited for a minute before Dumbledore himself showed up. Again, they went through the motions of the boring-ass interview and Harry glanced over at Voldemort. "Is there a way for me to fast-forward the memory? Or do we have to stand here through the whole thing?"

Voldemort snorted. "This is not a muggle video recording, Potter. Just have some patience."

Harry sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for the moment when Trelawney shifted into her trance and began to recite the false prophecy.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

At this point, Harry heard a scuffle from just beyond the door, in the hallway, and if he glanced over at Dumbledore at that moment, he could see a noticeable disapproving frown.

...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

As soon as the prophecy was done and Trelawney was coughing herself into clarity again, there was a knocking on the door and the bar keep of the Hog's Head appeared there, with a firm grip on the forearm of a much younger looking Severus Snape who was scowling at the man, angrily.

The bar keep informed Dumbledore that he caught Snape eavesdropping in the hallway, and it was just about that time that the memory began to fade away.

"So Snape was your spy?" Harry asked with absent disinterest as the pair stood there for a moment.

"Yes."

The two suddenly felt themselves 'falling' up and then found themselves back in the room on the 3rd floor, standing before the table with the pensieve on it.

"He orchestrated the false prophecy in a public place with the intent that it be overheard," Voldemort said suddenly.

"He didn't look pleased when that scuffle started in the hallway during Trelawney's performance," Harry observed.

"Clearly not. But I still got enough of the prophecy to take the action he desired of me..."

"He wanted you to come after me. To kill me," Harry said darkly as he scowled angrily at his clenched fists.

"Clearly. The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together, or destroy each other. Obviously he would rather we destroy each other than rule."

Harry snorted humorlessly.

"For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives... interesting..." Voldemort mused.

"He obviously hoped that if you killed me, it would somehow destroy you, or make it so that you could be killed. The part about you not being able to die while I lived is what probably led him to that conclusion. Although it also sounds like the only way for you to die is if I do it... or for me to kill you at the same time that you kill me? Sounds ridiculous, honestly... I'm also curious – I mean, saying that you can't die while I live makes sense because... well, it's true. But the prophecy makes it sound like I can't die while you live either."

"I've actually been thinking about that a while now. I suspect that there may have been some unintended effects from my using your blood in my resurrection ritual."

Harry looked up with a blank expression. "Unintended effects?" he echoed in confusion.

"I cannot say for sure the full extent of the effects at this time... while I do not think that the protection that your blood existing in me gives you, is quite as potent as the protection I have by a piece of my soul being inside you, however I suspect that it is possible that they may be similar."

"Are you saying I may be immortal?" Harry asked with a stunned expression.

"Slightly resistance to death, is more likely."

Harry snorted. "Interesting way of putting it."

"Well, it is obvious that he orchestrated the false prophecy in the hopes that my attacking you as an infant would bring about my death..."

"And when I didn't end up dead, he must have figured that you couldn't really be dead either," Harry added.

"Since you were now 'marked' it only led additional credence to the prophecy."

"And the whole part about me having two paths –" Harry said.

"Yes. He probably saw that you had the potential to being a huge threat to his agenda. However according to the prophecy the only way for me to truly die was by your hand."

"So he tried to orchestrate my entire childhood. Control everything from behind the scenes. He wanted to try and make sure I went down the path that he wanted. That I would fight against you and kill you, instead of joining you."

"In his deluded old mind, he's probably convinced himself that the line about 'the End falling upon us' as being the outcome if you join me," Voldemort said then with a scoff. "Blind old fool."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that line," Harry said, turning his full attention on the Dark Lord. "He will have two paths from which to chose. From one path, the End will fall upon us all. From the other, we shall be saved. I remember you thinking about the End-of-Days a few times during my visions earlier in the school year. That you had some sort of task...?" Harry let the sentence draw out in an unspoken question. The Dark Lord turned and glared at him through narrow eyes.

"Have you had any more of these visions of yours?"

"No. I'd tell you immediately if I had one," Harry said with a slightly annoyed tone at having his question diverted.

"My... task is complicated. Perhaps we will speak of it later, but at the moment we have other more pressing matters to discuss. Namely, this prophecy."

Harry gave a resigned sigh and slouched against the table he was standing beside.

"Alright so... well, it seems to me like most of the important stuff has already come to pass. I was born. You marked me as your equal. I've chosen my path already. I'm with you. Whether that leads to the end of the bloody world or our salvation, I guess only time will tell, although I suspect that you may have some insight on that."

Voldemort rose a single challenging eyebrow, but did contribute anything.

"So the rest of it... it says that you and I will either rule together, or destroy each other. I... well, I never exactly expected to be ruling by your side. You're the Dark Lord, not me. I still don't really buy into this 'equal' business."

"Yes..." Voldemort said in a slow, drawn out drawl as he looked off into the room with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"And finally the last line that goes 'For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives...' but we already discussed that," Harry finished with a huff before looking thoughtful himself and beginning to scowl angrily again. "Bloody manipulative, lying old bastard.." he muttered under his breath.

Voldemort snorted. "Yes, quite. He even got me."

"Hmph... Although I wonder if any of this would have ever even started if he hadn't? I mean, if he hadn't made up the fake prophecy and made sure it got to you, somehow, then you wouldn't have come after me like you did. If you hadn't come after me, your soul would have never got lodged in me, and I never would have got my scar. You wouldn't have become immortal and I wouldn't have been 'marked' by you."

"Most prophecies are often, in some way, self-fulfilling. They require someone to know about them, and believe in them, for them to have any real power..." Voldemort said in a contemplative voice.

"Then why the hell did you come after me in the first place? If acting on it posed the risk of giving it real power?"

"It was a risk I was willing to take. It seemed idiotic and reckless to allow someone who was prophesied to be able to vanquish me, to go on, when I had the opportunity to destroy him when he was still weak and defenseless."

Harry sighed and shrugged. "Can't fault your logic." Another silent minute passed and with each passing second, Harry found his mind swirling around more and more angrily at the idea of what Dumbledore had done to him.

"ARGH! I just want to fucking curse someone!" Harry exploded.

"Don't be so juvenile."

"Oh please! You can't tell me that you never called in some Death Eaters and started throwing around curses just because something had pissed you off and you needed to blow off some steam?" Harry shot back.

Voldemort actually grinned and chuckled quietly. "I may have done that a time or two."

"I can't believe you're not more angry!"

"Oh, I'm certainly angry," Voldemort said, airily. "I am exceptionally angry that he attempted to manipulate me into destroying myself. The damned old fool doesn't even have the honor to try and take me head-on. And instead of being honest with you, and simply informing you of your supposed destiny and trusting you to make what he deems to be the 'right choice', he chose, instead, to manipulate you into choosing his path. Despite how infuriating all of this is, from my perspective, it is far from surprising. This is how Dumbledore has always operated. The fact that it is so very in character for him, is what has dulled my outward response."

Harry turned his head away and glared angrily at the floor for another long minute. Voldemort watched as Harry's jaw clenched and flexed and his hands made tight, white-knuckled fists.

"I HATE him." Harry hissed out in a deadly, angry voice.

"So do I."

Harry's head turned up and his eyes locked with the ruby eyes of the Dark Lord. "If I go back now, I'm liable to throw a killing curse at him the second I see him."

"That would probably not be very wise."

"How far back can that time-turner go?"

"Twenty-four hours."

Harry's breathing was heavy and he was pulling in long sharp breaths through his nose as he held is jaw tightly shut.

"Can I stay here? I mean... all day? Not go back? I seriously suspect that I would end up hurting someone if I went back to the school right now. I just... I can't... I can't go back there right now. I can't... deal with them – Any of them. I'll just blow up and curse the daylights out of someone. I can't... I can't... I need to –"

"I don't doubt it," Voldemort said as he sensed the violent waves of angry dark magic pouring and sizzling off of Harry. He could feel Harry reaching a breaking point, very soon.

"Is that a yes?" Harry asked, shortly, as he looked back up and once again stared the Dark Lord in the eyes.

For the briefest moment, Harry's face softened and took on an almost pleading look, and Voldemort felt a strange tightening in his chest The Dark Lord nodded slowly. His response came out in a much softer and understanding tone than he ever used with anyone, but that somehow managed to slip out in that moment. "Yes, Harry. You can stay."

The shift in Harry's face and demeanor at the acceptance of his request and topped off by the use of his first name, and the soft tone it was spoken in, was instantaneous. He couldn't possibly put any sense to the flood of emotions that coursed through him in that moment. The wall that he had built up came crumbling down and everything just poured out. The grief, the horror, the anger, and absolute fury. The tremendous sense of betrayal and deceit. It had been crushing him. Suddenly the wall of emotions was replaced with relief, gratitude, and acceptance. The knowledge that he wouldn't be forced to go back to that damned castle where he had to pretend to be someone he wasn't, and play nice with all the people who did nothing but piss him off. Or at least, that he wouldn't have to go back right away... He knew he just couldn't deal with it. He just didn't have the strength in him.

Not after what he had learned. What was once a a semi-crazed theory in the back of his mind had become undeniable fact, and his mind and body didn't seem to know if it wanted to scream and rage, of collapse to the floor and cry.

He felt like his whole life had been a lie. The whole thing was constructed by Dumbledore with the intent that Harry would end up throwing his own life away in the role of a martyr for a world he had barely experienced and who were constantly turning on him. That he had been grooming Harry with the intention of him just dying in the end. And then there was the fact that Dumbledore's actions had honestly and truly been what brought about the death of Harry's parents. It wasn't just a matter of 'oh, they died and then Dumbledore stuck Harry with the Dursleys' – No, Dumbledore had brought about their demise on his own. They had been sacrifices that he had decided were worth it for his greater good. He had sacrificed Harry and his parents, and when Harry ended up surviving it, he had thrown him to the muggles to break him.

It had always remained true that Voldemort had cast the actual killing curse upon Harry and his parents, but it had been Dumbledore – literally – that had painted the targets on their backs and whispered into Voldemort ear that he needed to go after them.

Some distant part of his brain felt his knees giving out as the mental and emotional exhaustion began to take over. He had been operating on adrenaline and some sort of shock. Absolute fury had driven him forward like a mad man and suddenly all of that fury drained out of him, leaving him feel weak, tired, and utterly spent.

His knees hit the floor and his body slumped forward slightly, but he did not fall any further. His shoulders shook with silent, restrained sobs that he wouldn't allow to come. Part of him loathed the idea of appearing weak in front of the Dark Lord, but another part of him felt that this was the only man in the world who he could be himself around. The only man who understood him; the only man that he could honestly trust.

His world was spinning and his head felt heavy and pressured, like it was in a vice. At some point the tears he had been fighting so desperately to restrain had broken free of the dam and were now spilling out over his cheeks.

It was all just too much sometimes. Too much for one young man to handle. Too much to deal with. Just too much...

Suddenly, and without any warning, the pressure, and the spinning, and the huge heavy weight that had been pressing down upon him vanished with powerful rush of warmth and rightness as two arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him against the other person's chest. Harry felt himself burying his head into the neck of the other man as his body continued to shake and shudder from the sobs that had at some point, completely overtaken him. The sensation of being held by the other man was so incredibly reminiscent of being held by his companion inside his mindscape, but this was just so much more. So much better. This was real. This was warm and soft and comforting. And he smelled so wonderful. His voice was smooth and calming and reassuring.

The other man's hand began to run through his hair in a soft, caressing gestures that overwhelmed him with it's gentleness.

At some point, his own arms had wrapped around the other man's waist and he was clinging to him desperately. Utterly unwilling to release the man who was providing him with such comfort.

To let Voldemort go.

His sobs finally began to still and he felt his body calming down as his breathing became slower and steady again.

He sniffed as he pressed his closed eyes against Voldemort's shoulder, and pulled in another deep breath of the intoxicating scent.

Holy shit... what am I doing? And more importantly... why is he letting me?

Harry stilled and slowly, very slowly, released the Dark Lord and pulled away. He rose his head up and hesitantly brought his eyes up to meet the other man's gaze. He had no idea what he had expected to find there, but what he saw startled him. The eyes were surprisingly soft. There was honest concern in the other man's face, although it was quickly subdued as Voldemort sighed and ran a hand through his shiny black hair.

"Better?" Voldemort asked.

Harry slowly nodded his head.

"Can you stand?"

Harry swallowed the thick lump in his throat and nodded his head again. "Er, yeah, I think so," he rasped as he began to shift and stand.

Voldemort offered a hand and Harry reached out and took it, allowing the Dark Lord to pull him to his feet.

"Thank you," Harry said, ducking his head in embarrassment over having so utterly lost control of himself. "That was stupid of me. I should have better control of my emotions than that..."

"You are still young, Harry. I realize that this must be quite a lot for you to be faced with."

"It shouldn't be. It's not like I didn't already suspect things were about this bad," Harry said, shaking his head and scowling lightly at himself.

"Having suspicions and being faced with proof are two different things. Besides, it would seem that reality has proven to be even worse than your previous suspicions."

Harry closed his eyes and focused on pushing all of the thoughts and emotions out of his head and trying to just concentrate on clearing his mind.

"Come on, Harry," Voldemort's voice broke through his focus and startled him again by the casual use of his first name. He opened his eyes and blinked at the Dark Lord. He nodded his head with detached blankness, but felt his whole body relax wonderfully as he felt Voldemort's hand rest on the small of his back and begin to lead him out of the room.

Why was the Dark Lord acting this way? Why was he treating him with such gentle kindness? It was almost confusing enough to distract his mind from the overwhelming insanity of what he had discovered that morning. But not quite.

Harry finally realized that he wasn't being lead towards the stairs, but rather away from them. Another moment later he was standing in front of an unfamiliar door. Voldemort reached out and pressed the palm of his hand on the center of the door. There was a quiet click and then Voldemort reached down and pushed open the door.

He took a few steps into the room, still relishing the feeling of the man's hand rested against his back when he finally took in the room and came to an abrupt halt.

"Your bedroom?" Harry whispered.

"You need to rest. You've emotionally exhausted yourself," Voldemort said easily. "I can perform my meditation exercise here while you rest."

Harry turned and blinked at the Dark Lord. That strange concerned worry was still in his eyes, but it was accompanied by a look that told Harry that there was no arguing with this. After a stunned moment passed, Harry nodded his head and allowed himself to be lead forward towards the enormous bed in the center of the room.

"Rest," Voldemort said in a commanding and yet still surprisingly soft tone. Harry nodded his head numbly and found himself mindlessly slipping off his trainers and climbing into the bed.

He lay on top of the covers, but found the bed as a whole to be exceedingly comfortable. His head sunk into the pillow and he was instantly met with the scent of Voldemort, surrounding him. His whole body melted in utter relaxation and calm. He could see the Dark Lord sitting down on the floor in the same position he always performed his meditations in and could hear as the steady, even breaths became the only sound audible through the open, airy room.

Within moments he was asleep.

– –

What the hell was that?

Voldemort huffed quietly and relaxed his position. He wasn't getting anywhere with his meditation. His mind was too busy churning over the prophecy, and his body and emotions were to busy being confused by his powerful reaction to Potter. To Harry...

Damn it.

He could hear Harry's even breathing from the bed. He had fallen asleep rather quickly, but that didn't surprise Voldemort any considering how utterly spent the boy seemed. He wondered how long it had actually been since the last time Harry had allowed himself a good cry.

He'd sensed it coming before even Harry had. He could tell that the young man was on the brink of totally breaking down by his body language and the erratic nature of his magic as it swam around him. He was honestly surprised that Harry had remained coherent and rational for so long before that. He had been able to analyze and discuss the possible meanings behind the prophecy quite easily; but Voldemort suspected that he had just been running on adrenaline at that point. Once the rush died out, Harry had crashed, and he had crashed hard.

It had been shocking to Voldemort how affected he had been to witness the young man's melt down. He could not recall even a single time in the past where he had felt the honest need or desire to comfort someone. But he had felt it with Harry. He had needed to do it. Needed to hold him. To try and help calm him down and ease his pain.

Voldemort did not ease people's pain. He caused it.

Once again he was faced with thinking about the nature of the connection he had inadvertently created between the two of them. Soul magic, and blood magic were two of the oldest and least understood branches of the dark arts. They were rarely predictable, and use of them was fraught with unintended side-effects.

He realized now that he most definitely felt something for the boy. Something he had never felt for anyone else in his entire life. Terribly protective of him. Proud of his progress and achievements. And definitely possessive. He cared about Harry's well-being, and not just because he held a piece of Voldemort's soul. It was more than Harry being a horcrux and wanting to keep that horcrux protected. He wanted Harry protected.

Seeing Harry so utterly miserable had filled him with the strongest, most inexplicable need to make it better. It was so utterly unlike him that it was almost frightening. He was growing incredibly attached to the young man, and for entirely irrational reasons. Logically, he knew he needed to put a stop to this. He trusted Harry too much, and trust was dangerous.

But perhaps he shouldn't fight it. The prophecy made it sound like having Harry standing by his side would aid him in his task. They would prevent the End of days. Could this young man really make the difference? Could he be what was missing before? Why he could never seem to accomplish his ultimate goals? The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together... Was Harry his equal? No, not yet. But he could be. The young wizard had the potential to be everything the Dark Lord was; Voldemort had sensed it within him. And with the piece of his soul, lodged within him, there was even the potential that he could...

Could it have become Harry's destiny to share his task? Was that even possible? Never before had there been two at the same time...

He shook his head. He needed to focus on his meditation. He was so close to breaking that final barrier and being able to perform the transformation. Once he could take on his alter-ego appearance he would be calling his Death Eaters back to him, and he could truly begin to set things in motion.

He would deal with his confusion around Harry Potter later.

– –

Harry woke to sunlight pouring across his face. He blinked a few times in confusion, taking in the scene around him. Instead of his four-poster with red and gold hangings, he was in a huge, king-sized bed with ornate mahogany-carved headboard, and an emerald bedspread. The blanket and pillow he found himself laying upon was probably the finest silk he'd ever touched, and it made him just want to bury his face in it and go back to sleep.

He turned his face into the wonderfully soft fabric and took in a deep breath. Despite he having laid on it for however long he'd been there, he could still instantly detect the Dark Lord's distinctive scent in it.

Harry instantly sat bolt upright as it all came back to him in a sudden rush.

He had gone to Trelawney and forced her to sit there in a sort of a trance while he sifted through her mind. He had found the prophecy and then followed a mental strand along to the faked one that Dumbledore had concocted to fool Voldemort's spy.

Voldemort's spy... Snape! He had meant to bring that up earlier, but with everything else, it had just slipped his mind.

Not like it really mattered... Was that why Snape hated Harry so much? He knew that Harry was supposedly prophesied to be the vanquisher of the Dark Lord? But that still left the question about Snape's true loyalties. Hermione sort of had a point with her insistence that Dumbledore wouldn't keep Snape around unless he either trusted him, or rather, unless he had a use for him. So what did Dumbledore want with Snape? Was Snape loyal to Dumbledore like Hermione thought, or was he loyal to the Dark Lord? And if he was still loyal to Voldemort, did Dumbledore realize that? Did he still hope to use Snape to feed the Dark Lord with disinformation? Was that why he kept him around?

Harry pushed those thoughts aside. There were far more important matters to worry about.

Harry looked around the large, posh room and found that he was alone. He reached out with his senses and he could sense that Voldemort was almost directly below him. Harry assumed that he was probably in the study.

Harry quickly climbed out of the bed, turned and tried to tidy it up some before striding quickly out of the room. Once he had reached the second floor, he'd determined that the Dark Lord was not in the study, but actually in the library so he made his way there. He felt some hesitation building in his chest as he drew closer. He recalled his melt-down earlier, and how wonderful it had felt to be held by the other man, but now he felt exceedingly embarrassed by the whole thing. Not to mention confused by the fact that Voldemort had actually made the effort to comfort him.

Harry swallowed his nerves and pushed open the doors to the library. It took him a moment to locate the Dark Lord in large room. Towards the back, by a large window were a few overstuffed chairs and a chaise lounge. Sprawled out on the lounge was Lord Voldemort, himself. Harry couldn't help but think that he looked regal sitting there. He was lounging, casually, leaning against the reclined end of the chaise with a book in his hands, one leg bent up while the other was stretched out along the length of the chaise. He looked so relaxed and comfortable sitting there. Harry had long since become accustomed to seeing the Dark Lord as a man, and not the iconic demi-god of legend; yet still, moments like this always seemed to drive the fact home for him.

He felt a warm feeling in his chest, seeing the man sitting there in such easy comfort. He felt such a strong, and strange affection for the Dark Lord. But he was so much more than just 'the Dark Lord' to him. He wasn't just his lord and master, he was... other things as well. He had become something of a mentor, but also a... friend? That was an odd thought. And it didn't feel quite right. It wasn't sufficient enough a word. It didn't adequately live up to the feelings that filled him when he thought of the man. Harry found himself unable to properly put words to what he felt for the Dark Lord. Everything was happening so fast and it was confusing.

"Don't just stand there and gawk. Get over here," Voldemort's voice called, breaking through Harry's thoughts and causing him to realize that he'd been standing in the doorway of the library staring.

Harry ducked his head and grinned as he began to hurry across the room. As he reached the collection of seating he paused and looked at his options. There were a couple free armchairs free and yet he found the place he wanted to sit was actually the floor, beside the chaise. He would be closest to Voldemort there and the Dark Lord would have easy access to Harry from there.

Couldn't he always explain the action away as an act of respect? Submission to his Lord? Sitting beneath him? That was a reasonable excuse, wasn't it? It sounded more sane than of acknowledging that he was doing it because he wanted to feel the man's fingers running through his hair.

Pushing his way past his thoughts, Harry quickly slid down to the floor and propped his back up against the chair.

"Feeling better?" Voldemort asked after a silent moment. His voice had the same, sharp, short tone that it always featured, but there seemed to be an underlying softness to it. As if he honestly cared if Harry was feeling better. And Harry honestly felt that the Dark Lord did care. It was strange, but it filled his chest with that warmth again and he found himself smiling softly.

"Yes... much. I'm sorry I had a melt-down. Sobbing on you like some blubbering girl. It's honestly quite embarrassing."

"I'm sure it was," Voldemort said after making a lightly amused noise in his throat. His tone shifted to a far more serious one a moment later, though. "Feeling sorry for ones self is inevitable on occasion. What is important is that you get over it now. Self-pity is pointless and it is a waste of time. Do you understand?"

"I do," Harry said with a determined voice. "And you're right. I know. Sitting around and moping about how utterly Dumbledore has fucked me over won't do any good. I can't fix all the things he's screwed up because they've already happened."

"Exactly. Moving forward is all we can do. We take what we've experienced and what hardships we've had to endure, and we learn from it. We grow stronger from it. Self-pity is worthless. Take your fury and anger and focus it into motivation. Use that to drive you in your studies and in your goals."

Harry sighed and nodded his head. A moment later he felt the long slender fingers of the Dark Lord as they began to run through his hair and he smiled. He felt his body melting into the side of the chair as the fingers rubbed calming waves of the Dark Lord's ever-present magical aura.

"I really needed this," Harry admitted with a relieved breath. Voldemort remained silent, but kept his fingers gently combing over Harry's scalp. "Thank you so much for everything. You do so much more me... I don't deserve even a fraction of the things you do for me," Harry whispered after another long, quiet, moment.

"Oh, do shut up, Harry. You do more for me than you realize."

Harry was startled by the response. He wasn't sure what was more surprising – what the Dark Lord had said, or the fact that he was still using Harry's first name instead of having reverted back to calling him 'Potter'.

"Do you have any of your homework here with you, or do you need me to fetch you something to read?"

Harry blinked and his mouth floundered for a moment. He looked around and realized suddenly that he didn't actually know where his bag was.

"I'm not actually sure if I brought anything with me," Harry admitted slowly. "I was in a bit of a hurry to get here. For that matter, I'm not even sure what I did with my bag..."

"I believe you left it in the study after you exploded in there ranting about Dumbledore being a manipulative bastard."

Harry nodded his head slowly, feeling Voldemort's fingers follow the movement and then smiling when he felt the fingers grip his hair lightly and pull him back against the side of the chaise to pull Harry's head back into a reasonable range of his relaxed hand.

"I could summon my bag to me, but I don't think it's really got anything in it I could work on."

Voldemort sighed and removed his hand from Harry's hair long enough to pull out his wand, give it a quick flick, and summon a book from one of the many bookshelves in the room. It came flying across the room and landed directly in Harry's lap. A moment later, Voldemort's fingers had re-threaded themselves in Harry's hair and Harry was cracking open the book. It was an introductory Arithmancy book and it made Harry smile to think about the Dark Lord's promise to tutor him on the subject that summer to help prepare him for transferring into the class.

It wasn't exactly the most interesting subject, but Harry knew that it could be dead useful in the creation and modification of spells and rituals. A strong understanding of Arithmancy was necessary for setting wards, and was even useful in curse-breaking. Harry had never been a big fan of numbers, but he definitely acknowledged that if he wanted to be a truly powerful wizard, he would need Arithmancy. He cracked the book open and began reading. And with the Dark Lord's help, he would hopefully succeed without too much frustration.

– –

Harry had missed lunch during his nap, and was famished by the time dinner rolled around. Mixey prepared a wonderful meal for them, and Harry and Voldemort spent the time discussing what Harry had read. Harry asked a number of questions, trying to clarify some of the points that had confused him, and Voldemort had no qualms with answering them, no matter how simple they were.

Even after food, Harry still did not feel up to returning to Hogwarts. Whenever he thought about going back he felt a disgusted grimace spreading across his face, and Voldemort clearly saw it; so he didn't even bother suggesting that Harry go back. In the moments when he was honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't want Harry to leave. Instead Harry sat on the floor beside Voldemort's chair in the study while the Dark Lord read through his papers to keep up on current events and then when he continued work on some spell he was constructing.

Nagini joined them and alternated between lounging around a heated rock that Voldemort conjured; lounging on Voldemort's shoulders; and lounging in Harry's lap. At one point, Harry and Nagini engaged in a lengthy conversation about nothing of any real importance, but still, Voldemort found it utterly fascinating to watch Harry conversing so easily with his familiar. He had gotten very few occasions to witness any other humans speaking parseltongue. It was an incredibly rare talent, and the last wizard he had met who had the ability was his uncle, who he had framed for the murder of his muggle father and grandparents and gotten sent off to Azkaban. That was a very, very long time ago. And he hadn't exactly spent a great deal of time in the man's presence.

As it drew closer and closer to time for bed, Voldemort could see the hesitant concern growing in the young man's eyes. To quell the concern, Voldemort called upon Mixey, rather suddenly and surprising Harry, and instructed her to prepare one of the empty bedrooms with fresh linens. The relief was visible in both Harry's face and his demeanor. He sighed, smiled, and relaxed against the chair. Voldemort resumed his on-and-off habit of playing with Harry's hair, and Harry resumed his rather new habit of stroking his fingers along Nagini's head. Voldemort was sure that it would look almost humorous – or perhaps just disturbing – to anyone who would witness the scene. This thought only made him smirk.

– –

Harry left the manor shortly after breakfast. He used the time-turner to go back a full 24-hours, which actually put him back in the castle while his earlier self was still busy performing legilimency on Trelawney. This seemed like a rather excellent idea since it gave him the opportunity to provide himself an alibi. He was confident that his memory charms would hold against the divination teacher, but the extra safety net was still nice to have.

Harry's fury had been at least slightly quelled to a more stable simmering loathing. He still found it difficult to keep the scowl off his face during lunch when he looked up at the head table and saw Dumbledore sitting there, engaging in some sort of cheery discussion with McGonagall.

Harry quickly diverted his gaze. He knew that if the man looked his way, Harry wouldn't be capable of hiding the anger from his eyes, and if the old goat saw it, he would begin to suspect that something was wrong with Harry.

Before, Harry had just hoped that his previous years of deeds and accomplishments would prevent Dumbledore from honestly suspecting him of going dark. But now that he knew that the real prophecy literally said that Harry basically had a 50/50 chance of going dark, he knew the headmaster wouldn't be quite as quick to dismiss the idea as he had hoped.

He was going to have to be a lot more cautious around the man, and really put some effort into his acting. He could only use the 'angsty teen' card so many times before Dumbledore and the other professors began to suspect it was something deeper and more insidious than an angry and frustrated, yet still perfectly normal, teenager.

Harry huffed out and refocused on his meal. He'd just steer clear of the man for a while longer. He needed more time to cool down and plan before he could risk being in his presence. Fortunately, he rarely ever had any reason to speak with him, and there was still quite a while before the next task.

– –

Harry continued his daily visits to the manor after lunch, reading and talking with Voldemort; working on his class homework in the evenings, and then working with Hermione, and occasionally Ginny on translating the book. Ginny, it would seem, had finally learned how to act like herself around him, instead of constantly stuttering, blushing, and going silent. Harry was a bit confused by her sudden change in behavior around him, but was thankful that things were no longer so awkward when around Ron's younger sister. He was finding that she was a lot more bearable to be around than Ron was. She was like a more intelligent, less lazy version of Ron, and as such, he found her a much more bearable 'friend' to spend his evenings with. The added bonus, he was still good friends with a Weasley, and Weasley's were renowned Light wizards. No Weasley would be good friends with a Dark wizard.

For reasons that were not exactly hard to figure out, Ron was less than thrilled with Ginny suddenly spending so much time with Hermione and Harry. Ron even got so frustrated that he tried to work his way into their translation sessions, but he was utterly lost, and completely bored. He had no interest in the weird, old, dead language, and didn't give a damn about what the stupid old book might have to say. As a result, he was getting to be even more whiny, and even more annoying than ever. Harry even got snappy with him a few times when his patience for the ginger's moaning had hit its limit. Ron just scowled and stormed off to find Seamus or Neville to play some cards.

That week also featured the start of Harry's new dueling lessons with Voldemort. His daily visits now consisted of an hour and a half of reading while Voldemort meditated, then an additional half hour of light reading and conversation while Voldemort got caught up on the news. Harry began to ask Voldemort what sorts of news events he was looking for and keeping track of, and Voldemort began to keep up on Harry's daily strife within the halls of 'hormonal, temperamental, idiotic children', as he tended to call Hogwarts. When they finally finished their talking and reading, they would move to the ballroom and start two solid hours of dueling practice.

Harry had never experienced anything as exhilarating and exciting as learning dark arts spells and defense from the Dark Lord. Harry doubted there was a man alive who knew the subject matter as in depth and with such enthusiasm as Voldemort did.

In the beginning Harry found it very difficult to 'duel' Voldemort, simply because he was pointing his wand and firing off spells at Voldemort. Not because he was intimidated or scared – although he was definitely intimidated – but simply because he had absolutely no desire to attack the man. It wasn't like he honestly believed that anything he could do would hurt the man, but the knot of unease just wouldn't leave the pit of his stomach, no matter how much his rational mind knew he was being stupid.

He also often found himself becoming easily distracted by just watching Voldemort. His movements were so fluid and graceful. And then he had whip like movements that put Harry in a state of awe. Voldemort was like a panther. He stalked his prey and just emanated a sense of power. He was Dark, powerful, dangerous, and amazing..

#Harry Potter #Tom Riddle #Dark!Harry #Tomarry #Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

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mojoflower · 6 years ago

Text

Involuntary Invisibility

I’ve read a few fics with this rare trope, and this is what I found when I searched my bookmarks. Anyone know of any others?

and with thy lips dispell this curse by paranoid_fridge No rating. 10k. The Hobbit. Bagginshield.

In a word where neither the One Ring nor the Arkenstone exists and all survive the battle, Bilbo encounters a strange, magical creature while helping to evacuate Dale for the coming winter. He thinks nothing of it initially – but then he watches his own arm pass through solid wood and sees Thorin’s eyes widen in fear and call for him.

“I’m right here.” Bilbo wants to say, but cannot make a sound.

Not when he has been cursed to disappear.

My bookmark: Wow, turning invisible involuntarily is some scary stuff...

Invisible Man by shinkonokokoro T.�� 21k. Merlin. Merthur.

"You are capable of more?" "More? Your majesty?" "More types of spells. More brain cells as well?" "Yes," he hissed. "Protect yourself." "What?" "Carl, shoot him."

Getting captured by Uther doesn't quite have the results Merlin expect.

My bookmark: Lovely story. Modern royalty au, if you will, where, instead of executing Merlin, Uther makes him play invisible bodyguard, with a lot of emphasis on "You no longer exist." Merlin is terribly amiable, which is funny, and doesn't actually manage to keep his mouth shut when he bodyguards. Arthur creatively names him Voice.

In Visibility by cat_77 T. 14k. Avengers. No pairing.

He was used to slinking in shadows, hidden from sight. This was just ridiculous, really.

My bookmark: "Hey, I figured out several important pieces of data with this little adventure," he protested.

"Such as?" Bruce prompted. Clint knew he was in trouble when Mr. Mellow looked pissed.

"Sitwell is an excellent liar, Fury still has the Gameboy I gave him for Christmas like six years ago, and the World Security Council wants to carve me up like a lab rat," he recited. He considered it an accomplishment that he was able to get any words out at all the way Nat still held him in place, fingertips carving into his skin.

Tony leaned back against the nearby counter and mused, "We figured out some stuff while you were out too, wanna know what?" He didn't wait for a response before he ticked off on his fingers, "One, you're an asshole. Two, the field around you is shrinking. Three, the World Security Council wants to carve you up like a lab rat, or possibly a frog because I doubt they've made it past sixth grade Biology, let's be honest here."

In Plain Sight by oldenuf2nb M. 38k. Harry Potter. Drarry.

Draco Malfoy had stopped believing his wishes would be granted long ago. He could perhaps be forgiven for being startled, then, when one of them came true.

My bookmark: Lovely: the Board decides to do away with the Slytherin House and Hogwarts fights back. Meanwhile, Pansy is terribly injured by a curse and that makes Draco the last Slytherin standing. "He's the last," the voice tells Harry. "There isn't much time." Draco starts by using a disillusionment Charm, but it quickly becomes involuntary invisibility. But Harry's watching, and doesn't want him to disappear entirely. UST, although it isn't sex-heavy at all. There are some shining bits, however, like this bit, after Draco's injured and somewhat stoned: ******** “And that mouth…” he exhaled slowly. “Such a pretty mouth, Potter. Such a pretty, pretty mouth. Makes a man want to grab handfuls of your horrible hair and kiss that pretty, pretty mouth until it’s all soft and puffy and swollen.” Malfoy abruptly released the hold on Harry’s jumper and smoothed the bunched fabric with his hand. “I mussed you,” he noted, his eyes drifting closed and the smile returning to pull at his lips. “I mussed Potter. Although, Potter is usually mussed.”Harry was frozen in place, staring at Malfoy’s face, his heart racing. /What the hell had that been?/ he thought, finally pulling back. Malfoy must be heavily drugged. It was the only explanation for what had just happened.

Who said that? by coconutcranberries (orphan_account) No rating. 33k. Teen Wolf. Sterek.

Stiles has a very unique superpower, in that he doesn't exist. He's invisible, untouchable, unhearable-is that a word?-and just not there. He feels like a ghost most of the time, although he can't walk through walls (he tried, the wall took offense and his nose paid the price) and he can still trip over his own feet. He blends perfectly into the background and no matter how hard he tries, nobody knows he's there.

It's a lonely life, he's not gonna lie.

But suddenly something changes. Stiles is part of a group project which includes probably the most explosive combination of people in his class. These people don't notice when he waves a hand right in front of their face-how could they when he doesn't exist? The possibilities are endless.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

My bookmark: Such an interesting idea: Stiles' power is to make himself not exist... AT ALL. So from the time he's 8, he's vanished from everyone's awareness, all records deleted, everything. Only his dad can see him (and even that is periodically unreliable). But then suddenly, Derek sees him one day, which starts a chain of events that leads to him feeling hopeful once again about being able to interact with the world. It's kind of tragic, I mean, think of the loneliness, the skin hunger, the sense of abandonment involved in being non-existent for 8 years. But it eventually works out.

In Time of Trial by Shine M. 38k. Merlin. Merthur.

Uther fears his son's power, and Merlin has helped Arthur flee to escape imprisonment. Now the two of them must fight to regain Arthur's rightful place in Camelot.

My bookmark: Wow, what a fantastic story. 36k words never went so fast. This is the one where Uther's old friend Aelfric comes to visit and slowly drips poison into his ear until he's convinced that Arthur is going to try to depose him and take the crown. When he orders Arthur to be taken to the dungeons as a traitor (and killed on the spot if he struggles), Merlin races ahead of the guards to rescue Arthur. (Luckily, he's been practicing a spell that makes things invisible. Unluckily, he has to spring it on Arthur with no warning at all and convince him to be silent and still while the guards search his room around them.) And thus is magic revealed.The pair go on the run, and eventually settle near Tintagel, where all the Druids live, and begin preparations to fight back. Arthur allows himself to act on his attraction to Merlin (I'd rate this an M), perhaps because now that he sees that Merlin is a powerful warlock, he sees them as being equals. Also, there's no doubt of Merlin's loyalty, considering how they got out of Camelot.

Merlin's Moving Castle by KrisEleven G. 49k. Merlin. Merthur.

As a result of some very unfortunate decisions, Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, is cursed by Morgana (also known as the Witch of the Wastes) and becomes fully invisible to anyone who doesn’t possess magic. Forced to abandon his kingdom, he begins his quest for a remedy to his unfortunate condition and comes across the quite charming - and even more annoying - Merlin who may be the only one able to save Albion, if only Arthur can convince him to try.

My bookmark: What an amazing story. I kind of expected a rehash of the Howl's Moving Castle plot (which would have been fine, as I adore the story), but instead the author used only pieces of it and built something entirely new and totally belonging to Merlin and Arthur and their world from the show. There was a surprising amount of action (Merlin first meets Arthur during a fight and flight) and it culminates in an enormous battle. But in between, it's Arthur, learning to be patient and getting to know some new people... learning about the world through their eyes. It's just beautiful.

Beyond the Mirror's Edge by VivacissimoVoce M. 49k. Harry Potter. Drarry.

Harry Potter is dead! A spell goes wrong in Advanced Charms class, leaving nothing but a charred ring and a pair of empty shoes. Draco Malfoy must figure out what happened and try to bring Harry back.

My bookmark: interesting premise!The one where Harry is hit by a protection charm gone wrong and only his shoes are left. Dumbledore's Dead/Alive device only wavers with the needle halfway between the two when it's questioned, and no one knows where Harry is or how he's half alive. "The small wooden box with the life-death dial was mounted on the wall outside of the Charms classroom, with Potter’s shoes encased in a glass box beneath. The needle stayed resolutely fixed between the two indicators, but no one was sure what it meant."And then Draco hears, "Can anybody hear me?"Draco looked up and checked down the table. "Beg pardon?" he asked Pansy."I didn't say anything," she looked up in surprise."Anybody, please, if anybody can hear me please say something!"

Unseen by astolat M 11k. Harry Potter. Drarry.

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

My bookmark: #not involuntary invisibility#but i'll tag it that way#for my own purposes

What it says on the tin, really. Draco is the only one who notices that Harry has turned himself into a ghost and is "haunting them all before his death". He carefully takes the Cloak, just for 24 hours, challenging Harry to see if he can do without it. Of course, Harry's never heard a challenge from Draco that he hasn't immediately and fiercely accepted. But it's HARD. As Draco, in a weird combination of rude and kind, coaxes him through the week, Harry learns to be seen again, is shown how to protect himself, and finds himself falling for Draco.

we are tangled by drunktuesdays T. 6k. Teen Wolf. Sterek.

"Derek was at your house?" "For like ten seconds," Stiles said. "I'd say it was weird, but is anything about Derek ever not weird?"

My bookmark: invisible!derek!!!

Invisible by chappysmom G. 86k. Sherlock. No slash.

John had had the knack for as long as he could remember.

It wasn’t that he could become invisible, exactly. The laws of physics worked quite well in his vicinity, thank you very much. It was just that people tended … not to see him.

My bookmark: Invisibility not actually involuntary, but this has always been one of my favorites.

#involuntary invisibility #fanfic recs #mojo's fanfic recs #sterek fanfiction #drarry fanficiton #merthur fanfiction #sherlock fanfiction #hobbit fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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