#not sure how I’ll tag this AU but I’ll come back to add it when I figure it out lol

[selfindulgentfandomstuff]

Well. You guys convinced me ! (<- guy who needed very little convincing)

ANYWAYS.. SO I HAD A DREAM LAST NIGHT WITH MURDOC AND IT WAS SO COOL SO NOW I HAVE A SEPARATE AU AND SELF INSERT/OC FOR IT TOOOOO

here she is!!

Name: Emerie ‘Em’ Grayson

Pronouns: she/they

Gender: demigirl/non-binary

Orientation: queer

Age: 25

Height: 5’9

Species: genetically modified human (assorted feline DNA insertions included)

Abilities/modifications: heightened senses, strength, speed and agility; night vision; primarily carnivorous now (much to their chagrin); more in touch with instincts/gut feeling

Suuuuper rough, just getting ideas down thingy for Em!!

[creative-crybaby]

Knots

PAIRING: masseur!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

GENRE: no curses!au | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), brief masturbation (m), size kink, praise kink, cum eating, light mentions of/brief marking

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: With so much stress piling up on you, Geto was kind enough to offer you a massage. Unfortunately, no amount of relaxation can distract you from the sexual tension between you and your friend.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAPPA can't draw jjk characters like that and expect me not to write smut about em 🙄also: HAPPY NEW YEARS, LOVELIES <3333

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

“Are you sure this is okay?” It’s too late to ask him that, but you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

Your face burns as silence follows; you can only thank whatever gods above for him not being able to see your expression.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he chuckles, and you copy the sound nervously, unsure if he is serious. After a pregnant pause, he adds, “I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.” Your peripheral vision catches him moving around you to get to the cabinet. “Consider it a favour from a friend.”

You hear the cabinet door open and shut, and you shift from your spot face down on the table.

“At least let me pay you back somehow,” you press, pouting. 

“That defeats the point of a favour, doesn’t it?” Geto’s footsteps get louder until you catch sight of his shoes from the corner of your eye. There’s another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Are you comfortable with me unclapsing your bra?” Before you can answer, he quickly continues, “It can stay on like you wanted, I just need the straps out of the way.”

If you aren’t hyping yourself up to take every opportunity to get closer to the masseur, you’re second-guessing your decision to take his offer. Should he follow through with the action, it would only be the beginning of something far more intimate. And you know this. You knew this. Even when Geto first suggested the idea after you opened up about your piling stress and even when you foolishly thought asking Gojo for advice on the offer was a good idea. 

But you’re here now, aren’t you?

“Go for it,” you try to mask whatever uneasiness you can. Gentle fingers tug at the clips at the end of your bra, disconnecting them and allowing the straps to drop. Even with your chest still covered, you feel bare, the cool air tickling the newly exposed area. You have to force yourself from shivering.

“You still like the scent of lavender?” Geto's question catches you off-guard, raising your head from the cushion, not realizing that he recalled such a minor detail. Your silence makes the ravenette turn to you again, offering his easy-going smile. “Or have your tastes changed?”

You nod mindlessly, blinking up at him. “Lavender’s good.”

Geto hums before searching through his cabinet, taking several seconds to find the bottle he was looking for. You rest your head back on the cushion before he can catch you staring.

“I’ll be starting now.” The sound of a bottle cap opening follows your friend’s words. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Otherwise, just lay back and relax.”

Despite his gentle voice, following his order becomes easier said than done once his large hands come in contact with your back, the oil adding to his skin’s warmth. You bit your lip, the serene scent of lavender reaching your olfactory as the masseur works his magic on your stress. 

You don’t realize how exhausted your body has felt until Geto applies pressure for the first time, and you cringe. 

“Easy, easy,” he soothes, pausing his ministrations once you try to relax your body. “Wow, you are stressed.”

You allow your body to sink further into the table’s mattress when his soft laughter reaches your ears, and you give him the go-ahead to continue. Fingerpads return to your skin, rubbing heavy yet sturdy circles onto your back, untying any and every knot trapping your muscles. You can feel your body fall limp, drowning heavily while at the same time floating into the heavens as every evidence of exhaustion disappears from you. 

Still, even as you try to keep your mind blank and enjoy the moment, you can’t help but notice how much space Geto’s hand takes up on your back. It doesn’t help that they creep up to your neck, more than ready to push the problems away from that area. 

“So,” you trail off, feeling the need to fill the silence rather than embrace it, “You give these massages to Ieiri or Satoru?” 

The ravenette chuckles. “If you’d call the occasional shoulder rub a proper massage, then sure.”

A memory of the four of you at a local diner pops into your head, Shoko telling Geto a shoulder massage was the least she deserved after all the all-nighters she’s suffered through. You giggled, watching the medical student melt under the masseur’s magic touch, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that prodded your mind. 

You quip. “Not even a full-body one? Ieiri’s the one who deserves it the most out of us.”

“Guess she just never has the time for one,” he hums. 

“And Satoru?”

Geto snickers, pausing his actions. You join in on the laughter, a small swell of pride blooming in your chest. 

Your joy is cut short when he resumes the massage, adding pressure to a specific area below the nape of your neck that forces a whimper out of you. You freeze, hoping the masseur didn’t hear it. But with how his hold on you paused, even for just a moment, you couldn’t deceive yourself into believing you were in the clear. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, the warmth from your face expanding to the rest of your body. Could he feel it?

You can hear the smile in his voice. “So tense, aren’t you?”

You don’t miss the octave drop in his voice, biting your tongue. Geto returns to work, his fingers digging into your skin and untying whatever knots your muscles carried for who knows how long. You allow yourself to sigh at the sensation, your brows knitting together from the pressure without the discomfort. 

His hands travel lower, returning to previous areas with added strength until he reaches the small of your back. You try not to tense upon feeling his fingers graze the towel covering your bottom, but you can’t prevent the shaky moan from escaping your lips once his hold shifts to your hips. 

Another pause from him: another apology from you. 

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Your friend assures you, though you barely miss the light strain in his tone. “I’ll be working on your legs next, okay?”

You hum lightly, shifting from your spot as he passes what the towel covers. Your thoughts wander before you can put them on a leash, the pang of disappointment from the neglect of that area allowing your imagination to drift. 

Would a massage there even feel good? Geto would undoubtedly find a way, his large hands practically blanketing each cheek. And his fingers—God, they were the stars of the show, finding the spots that needed the most attention and pushing every bit of tension out of your worn-out body. You’re confident his digits would be just as adventurous in other places.

You feel yourself clench around nothing and fear the handsome man above you possibly noticing. Shaking your head, you hope those thoughts fly out like fleas. 

Geto stops. “Too much?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

The masseur’s hands glide up to your upper thighs, and you freeze, his hold remaining in place as he leans closer to your head.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice calm. “I can return the favour some other way.”

Your body moves before your brain can command it to. Or rather, stop it from doing so. Hastily, you raise your head from the cushion, your upper torso following suit as it twists to face your friend.

“I can take it.” 

Silence. Too much of it for your liking. It has your stomach churning and your heart ramming against your ribs. Maybe it’s the heaviness in your body that follows you getting up too quickly, or your word choice. It could also be how Geto stares at you with parted lips, his eyes on you but not meeting your gaze.

Instead of further embarrassing yourself by speaking, you follow his focus, only to wish you hadn’t. 

Your bra, long forgotten by you, barely hangs onto your body by its straps by your elbows, exposing your back as well as most of your chest. The lavender scent is no longer soothing, the heat on your face is dizzying, and you’d want nothing more than to run out the door if only your legs weren’t practically limp from your friend’s treatment. It doesn’t help that his hold on the back of your upper thighs hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s tightened, his grip making your clit jump.

You suppose you spoke too soon once the warmth of Geto’s touch disappeared from your legs, the masseur having moved to reach for your bra straps to pull them back up to your shoulders before you could process his actions. You blink, eyes trailing up to his face now adorning a rosy hue and soft lips pressed into a thin line. He’s so much closer, his breath barely fanning the top of your head. And if you aren’t forcing your gaze to meet his, you’re impulsively glancing back at his mouth. 

With so much focus on the beautiful man, you don’t catch him slowly but surely leaning in.

The last discernable thing you catch is Geto’s lidded eyes darkening before he presses his lips against yours.

You don’t breathe. You forget to, just like how you leave your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide open. 

The ravenette pulls away quicker than he’d leaned in, and the corners of your lips twitch downwards. His brows furrow as he looks at you with a brighter flush on his handsome face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

No. You won’t let him regret his actions, not for your sake. 

The sudden shift in perspective is alarming when, only moments ago, you feared ruining your relationship with your friend. Now, you’re shifting to sit on the massage table, grabbing Geto by his shirt collar, tugging him forward and slamming his lips onto yours. You groan at the impact, relaxing only a second later once he returns the kiss with just as much hunger. 

But he’s still not close enough. His hold remains on your bra straps, making it harder for you to wrap your arms around his neck. It’s the only reason you pull back, locking eyes with him as you place your hands on his. 

“Suguru,” you pant, chest heaving for air as your lids droop. Your following words stay trapped in your throat, the masseur having slid his hold higher up your shoulders to bring you back to the kiss. You squeak, the fervour behind his actions far more evident as his tongue teases your lower lip. He groans into your mouth, his thumbs caressing your skin as you invite him in, eager to have him even closer. 

Your hands are still on top of Geto’s, you remember, and you slide his down your arms while he’s distracted by the kiss. (With how he’s swirling his tongue around yours, you aren’t sure you can call it a “kiss” anymore.)

You pull back hastily, not missing the string of saliva connecting your bottom lips before motioning for him to look down. His sharp eyes do so, blinking out of his haze as he sees how the cups of your bra no longer cover your breasts. You don’t recall when you stopped caring about your face burning like it was on fire, the pride in your chest and lust in your lower belly now the dominant sensations as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet. 

“Please,” he gulps, an unmissable strain in his voice. “Let me taste you.”

Even after the lewd makeout session, his words left your mouth cotton-dry. You can only kiss him again, guiding his hands to cup your breasts, your bra sliding off your arms. 

When Geto pulls back, his lips reattach to your skin, trailing down your neck to the valley of your mounds. He lightly pushes you to lie down on the table, making yourself comfortable before plopping one of your nipples into his mouth, the other one between his fingers. Your own hands loosen his hair from its bun, the strands falling gracefully onto his broad back. They’re as soft as they look, your fingers streaming through the midnight locks like water past the pebbles in the river. 

The masseur switches his treatment, the other nipple now teased by the grazing of his teeth while his large hand keeps the second breast from neglect. Your body feels hot, and the warmth of his mouth does little to soothe the issue. But with how much you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, you’d hardly consider this a problem now. 

Your hands remain in his hair as Geto continues kissing down your body, stopping just at the apex of your thigh to peer at you with those dark pools for irises. One of his hands removes the towel from your lap, revealing your thin shorts underneath. He tugs at the waistband, silently asking for your permission. Your response consists of your hips rising from the table, and he’s quick to shimmy your remaining clothes off your body, stealing another passionate kiss from you in the process. 

“I want nothing more than to hear every sound I get out of you,” your friend (can you still call him that?) pants, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and his face flushed as he watches your reaction through hooded lids. You lean in, chasing his lips for another kiss. He stops you with a finger, and you hold back the whine squeaking from your throat. He chuckles. “But I’m going to need you to keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

You almost forgot that you’re in a public setting, even with the privacy of a closed door. Geto warmly smiles when you nod, and he lowers himself to face your crotch, helping you shift to let your legs dangle off the table. You find his eyes widening upon catching sight of your bare cunt already drooling your essence. The ravenette exhales shakily before planting a kiss on your clit, making you twitch. Your reaction makes him chuckle, and he licks long strips against your slit, moaning through his languid movements. 

“What was that about being quiet?” You giggle breathily, leaning your weight on your hands. Geto pauses. 

“Sorry, beautiful,” he whispers with a smile, tightening his hold on your thighs. “You taste like a dream.”

You throw your head back as your eyes flutter shut, his words and continued ministrations between your legs setting your body ablaze and your mind blank. It doesn’t help that he’s practically encouraging you to cage him tightly between your thighs, squeezing his head in place as he makes out with your cunt. Your hips grind into his touch, moving in tandem with his soft lips and warm tongue. 

Even with his sensual movements, you can tell he’s holding back, if his tight hold on the fat of your thighs is any indication. Your hips grind into his touch, allowing him permission to feast on you how he’d like, gripping a fistful of his locks for further encouragement. And the masseur seems to have gotten the message, his tongue digging inside you while his nose nudges at your pearl. 

Holding back your sounds of pleasure is already a challenge—warning the handsome male beneath you of your oncoming release doesn’t even seem possible, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the sensation in your lower belly grows stronger. 

And maybe Geto doesn’t need you to tell him. Or maybe, he’s just so lost in the taste of your essence that he’s decided to wrap his soft lips around your puffy clit and suck, the tip of his tongue flicking at the nub at the same time. Whatever the case, his actions do the trick, your hold on his head tightening as your legs shake while your jaw falls slack. The ravenette doesn’t falter, pushing himself closer to your cunt, his mouth working its magic and creating sounds that would embarrass you if it weren’t for the ringing in your ears.

Coming down from the high, plus the massage, has you losing your hold on yourself. Luckily for you, Geto quickly rises from his spot, catching you by the waist and pulling you into another kiss with a soft groan. Your taste on your tongue and the need for air make you dizzy, but you bring him closer regardless. 

“‘M sorry,” he pants after ending the kiss, his chin shining with your slick. “Just had to show you how good you taste.”

You can only whimper in response, feathering kisses on his lips as you play with his hair. Geto happily lets you, his large hands mapping your torso and thighs as if burning every curve into his memory. 

“Didn’t know this came with the free massage,” you mumble against his mouth, holding back a smile. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he purrs, moving you back down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. You hear the rustling of clothing, and before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a weight hovering over your figure. Familiar, large hands splay open on either side of your head while muscular thighs cage your legs in place. “Do you trust me?”

Something pokes your lower back, and you almost forget to answer with the masseur’s hot breath against your ear. You lift your hips to grind against his crotch with a whimper, hoping that’ll be more than enough for him. 

Your actions make Geto laugh, and he teasingly nibbles at your earlobe. “Use your words, darling.”

It doesn’t help that he’s taken his tip to glide across your slit, collecting your juices as a lubricant. You twist your head to face him, one of your hands gripping on the cushion above you as a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting a lot longer for this moment than you know,” you confess meekly, watching as the ravenette’s eyes widen and lips part from your words. “And I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”

You worry you’ve revealed too much too soon when you’re met with silence. But when that familiar smile and soft gaze grace Geto’s features, the nerves fluttering in your stomach evaporate. 

The handsome male presses a kiss against your temple. “That makes two of us, then.”

With only a few seconds to register his confession, your heart does a doubletake before you feel Geto lead his cock into your heat, his hand gripping yours as reassurance. The subtly painful stretch that follows suit makes you grateful for the gesture, your insides splitting in half as he just keeps going in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every vein graze against you. 

The masseur notices, it seems, and he whispers encouraging words in your ear, giving you the occasional kiss on your shoulder.

“There you go,” he drawls quietly, his crotch meeting your ass. “Nice and full, aren’t you?”

You exhale shakily, feeling his strong chest pressed against your back. On rare occasions, when Geto wears tight-fitting shirts, you’re blessed with the sight of his chiselled physique, especially his back, since he can’t catch you ogling. The chance to leave your mark there, like an artist’s signature on a painted canvas, is one you’ve longed for. However, with the knot in your belly ready to snap without having him even move makes you grateful for the current position. Maybe next time you’ll get to see all of him. 

Next time. 

“Can I move, darling?” Geto's breath tickles your skin. “I’m afraid I won’t last too long with how you’re squeezing me.”

The almost boyish giggle he breathes out has your heart rocketing in your ribs. Your affirmation comes out weak, but the masseur hears it loud and clear. He reels his hips back, but it’s when he buries his shaft back into you that you feel your eyes roll back once more. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping out as he sets a languid yet deep pace. 

“We need to keep quiet, remember?” Geto shushes, his face buried in your neck. “My massages are good, but even outsiders might grow suspicious if you’re too loud.”

His soft laughter mixes with your pleading whine. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

The ravenette halts his movements, much to your dismay. Even with you wiggling your hips, he doesn't budge, and you’re about to ask him about the holdup before he beats you to it. 

“You think it’s easy for me?” The soothing lilt of his voice is long gone, replaced with a low timbre that has you clenching around his girth. “I’ve got you milking me for all I’m worth, and we barely started. What do you think that does to me?”

You feel his teeth graze your skin, making you shiver as you try to regain friction between your legs. Geto's stronger than you, much stronger, and your movements don’t make him budge. 

With a quivering sigh, you prop yourself on your forearms, and he retracts from his hiding spot in your neck. You face him, lids hanging low on your eyes and face warmer than it should be. 

“Show me.”

With a smirk, Geto pulls himself out until only his tip remains before slamming back into you. You choke on a gasp, his pace and strength relentless as his hips slap against your ass, the sounds bouncing off the walls. You can’t even call him out on his hypocrisy as you bury your face into the table, hoping it’ll help mask your cries. 

It doesn’t, of course. But Geto Suguru, ever the gentleman, carefully lifts your head by your neck and, while hovering over you, slams his lips against yours. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t find yourself complaining as he rams into you, filling you up and moulding your insides into the shape of his cock.

Your eyes don’t know what to do, from squeezing shut to crossing. At one point, you catch the door in your peripheral vision, and the thought of potentially getting caught has you clenching, your hand reaching for the masseur’s bicep and digging your nails into his pale skin. 

Geto grunts. “You trying to make me cum, beautiful?”

His playful tone makes you whine, his pace never faltering as he sneaks one of his hands under you to grope one of your breasts. The toying of your nipple, along with the male’s relentless thrusts, fuels the coil in your belly, and what does the trick is him leaving his mark on your neck. 

With a drawn-out gasp, your body stills, toes curling and tongue lolling out as your pussy convulses. You hardly notice Geto’s strokes growing sloppy, his whispered cursing going in one ear and out the other. Having him lead you to heaven is plenty for you. 

Once you calm down, though, you feel like he’s pulled out too soon. You groan, your ears catching the light sounds of him shuffling from his spot above you, followed by a rapid squelching noise that has you peeking over your shoulder. 

There, in all his naked glory, is Geto stroking his cock, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on your figure. 

“Shit, shit—” he cuts himself off with a gasp, ropes of cum shooting from his slit and landing on the back of your thighs. The sight alone has you clenching, the need for him inside you arising once more. “Oh, fuck—”

Anyone would grow angry at a mess thrown at them. You’re no different, just worse (the one time Gojo accidentally made you ruin your eyeliner is more than enough proof—the poor fool).

 And yet, having painted your thighs white by Geto, his seed clinging to your oily (and now sweaty) skin, you somehow find yourself falling for him more. 

“Suguru,” you slur, your eyelids fluttering as you allow your body to slump back onto the table. You feel his weight disappear before hearing footsteps grow louder. Through tired eyes, you’re face-to-face with his crotch, causing you to squeak as your upper body jolts up again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the masseur chuckles, crouching to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere returns to the comforting one his work ought to bring, though a part of you finds yourself fidgety. The ravenette wipes away the evidence with a wet towel, and it’s enough to keep you in place and relaxed as he continues to take care of you. 

Once done, he helps you sit up, keeping you steady as your legs dangle off the table.

“I think you fucked the bones out of me,” you croak, and Geto pauses midway from sliding your underwear back up your legs. He laughs a soft, boyish laugh, the melody bringing a smile to your lips and a warmth of embarrassment to your cheeks. “Is this what you had in mind by doing me a favour?”

He pecks your nose before resuming dressing you. “No, but I’m not complaining with the results.”

You hum, and the silence returns as he aids you with the rest of your clothes. 

It isn’t until he’s slipping his boxers back on that you speak again. “You don’t give this kind of special treatment to the others?”

A witless, little joke on your part, though your tone didn’t match. Maybe it was the exhaustion that took charge or a sliver of self-consciousness that needed assurance that you had him all to yourself. Still, you press your lips into a thin line, awaiting his answer. 

“To our friends or my clients?” he inquires, putting on the remainder of his clothes. “Either way, the answer’s no.” When you don’t say anything else, he approaches you, nudging his nose against yours. “Did you want me to?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze. “No!”

Geto's joking smile eases into a sincere one, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and embracing you. 

“Perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your temple. “Guess that means you’re the only one who gets my special treatment.” A pause, followed by a sheepish giggle. “As long as we do it outside of my job. I’d like to keep it, you know.”

From your position, you peer over his shoulder to where the door stands a few meters away, shut and locked but keeping you in suspense. With heat bubbling in your face, you hide in the crook of his neck. 

“You technically never finished my massage,” you mumble against his skin, your hands tracing any muscle it can reach on his back. Geto pulls back from the hug, jutting his bottom lip as if pondering.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums before another smile breaks onto his features. “Shall we continue back at my place, then?”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[joonipertree]

Tags: college au, awkward mikey, flustered mikey, mikey has a crush on you. skateboarder!mikey.

[I wrote this Feb 2022. THIS WAS BEFORE I WATCHED THE SHOW OR READ THE MANGA. I JUST SAW A PIC AND THOUGHT HE WAS CUTE???]

You weren’t sure what you were watching but you were pretty sure it was akin to a circus.

“Mikey, you have to.” A pretty girl said with a bored expression on her face.

“No.”

Mikey, your classmate, was simply circling around her with an equally bored expression. He was the definition of carefree, skateboard under his feet and hands in his pocket with his long blonde hair in a ponytail.

“You were fine five minutes ago.”

“That was before I had two mental breakdowns about it.”

“In the span of five minutes?”

“You don’t know my life.”

“I’m your sister.”

“No.”

“Mikey, just fucking go up to them and kiss already, it’s exhausting watching you pine.” Ryuguji, another classmate of yours, spoke from the bench he was sitting on.

“Shut your fucking mouth before I punch you, Kenchin.” Mikey deadpanned, skating a little wobbly for a second before righting himself.

“That’s not the point of this, you need a partner for the assignment.” The blonde girl spoke sternly.

“I’d rather fail than ask them.”

“I’ll tell big brother on you.”

“Oh no, I’m so scared. What horrible things will he do?” Mikey had a very sarcastic tone in his voice as he shivered exaggeratedly.

“Ass.”

“Emma, I’m still not convinced. There’s nothing that can possibly happen that will make me go and talk to them.”

“Oh hey _____, didn’t see you there.” Ryuguji all but shouted out.

Mikey promptly fell off his skateboard and stumbled two feet forward before stabilizing himself.

“Hey, sorry for just standing there, I needed to use the vending machine.” you said with a giggle.

Mikey all but skipped to the side which made you giggle as you walked towards it.

It was silent for a while and when you turned around, you saw the three of them having some kind of conversation with their eyes. It mostly consisted of Mikey shaking his head vehemently.

Emma looked at you a second later and smiled a saccharine sweet smile at you before saying, “I love that shirt on you, it’s very cute.”

You thanked her and looked to your right to see Ryuguji keeping Mikey in a headlock as the other tried to escape his clutches.

“So, I heard about that project that’s coming up. Do you have a partner yet?”

“Sadly, no.” You sighed. Your friends had paired off already and you were the only one left.

“Mikey doesn’t have a partner either.” Emma said just as Mikey broke himself free.

“Oh, if you want to be my partner then you can.” You said as nonchalantly as possible. To be honest, Mikey was very cute and you always wanted to talk to him but never had the courage.

“i’m-well-no-I mean-I-” Mikey stuttered the worst you’ve ever heard anyone stutter.

“This means yes in Mikey.” Emma informed and for your own sanity, you believed her.

With a drink in your hand, you walked towards him and handed him your phone.

“Add your number in, I’ll text you.”

The boy just stood there in silence, eyes almost out of his sockets as he held the pastel blue covered phone in his hand. You noticed how big his hands were and it made you blush a bit. You wondered what it would feel like to hold them.

“Oh my god, you fucking coward.” Emma muttered but before she could take your phone from his hand, he cradled it against his chest while glaring at her. He then very carefully typed in his digits.

You tried opening your bottle of juice but were very clearly failing to, grunting softly at the effort you were putting in.

He took the bottle from you and gave your phone back before very easily unscrewing the cap.

Why the fuck was that attractive?

He handed it back and you squeaked out a thanks before saying a quick goodbye.

You were too far to hear or see him but the boy melted against his best friend and whined over how cute you were.

“Did you see how cool I was opening that bottle for them? I was so fuckling calm, what the fuck.”

[redrose10]

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,531

This chapter will touch on some darker subjects so I highlighted the specific trigger warning in red. In the story it’s not really detailed or any thing and is really minor but I still wanted to make it known just in case.

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Very brief allusion to suicide, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

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

Alright here is chapter 9! Thank you to everyone that has read this story and for the comments and messages. I tried to add everyone to the tag list that I saw but I feel like I missed people and I apologize for that. I was never good at keeping tabs of a tag list.

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken

You stared back still in shock from everything that had just happened to you. “Y/N are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head as Yoongi wrapped his suit jacket around you gently pulling you into a hug. The cinnamon and vanilla scent that you’d come to hate was somehow comforting in that moment. After a few seconds he pulled you along with him.

“What about him?”, you asked looking back at the man still lying on the ground.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it later. Let’s just get you out of here.”

He quickly had a car ready and got you inside while he got in after you advising the driver to head to Jimins.

“Yoongi who was that guy and how did he know so much about us?”

He ran his hand through his already ruffled hair. You noticed the bruise on his knuckles starting to form.

“It’s a really long story Y/N.”

You scoffed, “Yoongi he just assaulted me and knew a lot of my personal information so I think I deserve an explanation regardless of how long the story is.”

“You’re right. Once we get to Jimin’s I’ll explain everything.”

You looked over at him noticing how disheveled he looked. You wanted to reach over and smooth his hair and comfort him, but you decided against it after remembering everything that happened between the two of you recently.

“How did you know where to find me?”, you asked stop kind of surprised that it was him who came to your rescue.

“Well I saw you leave out the front entrance when I was talking to Taemin and I was going to go after you then but I figured you’d want some space so I stayed back. After you were gone for a while I started to get worried and began looking around and then I got a call from Jungkook?”

“You’re intern Jungkook?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, apparently he had met a new friend during the auction and was in the backseat of a car that was parked on the street with that friend and he saw you. He called me and said you were with a guy but he wasn’t sure if you were l with him willingly or not because you looked uncomfortable so I started running towards where you were while I stayed on the phone with him and he kept an eye on you and that’s how I found you. At first I was just going to leave you be because if you wanted to be with another guy I have no right to stop you but when Jungkook said you looked uncomfortable I knew I had to at least check on you and then I heard you telling him to stop and that’s when I decided to step in.”

“Oh well I’ll have to tell Jungkook thanks for looking out for me next time I see him.”

Once back at Jimins you quickly showered and changed into some comfy clothes and headed back towards the living room. Yoongi had borrowed some clothes from Jimin so he was comfy as well and he walked over handing you a mug of warm milk. Smiling you accepted the glass.

After he took a seat next to you he started flipping through channels on the tv.

“Okay Yoongi enough stalling. Tell me what’s going on.”

He let out a long sigh and set the remote down, “Alright, soooo the guy that attacked you is Suri’s brother, Hwan.”

“I’m sorry what?!”, you asked in between coughing on the sip of milk you just swallowed.

He continued, “Yep. I’ve known Suri and her brother since we were kids. We all went to the same school. He’s a year younger than us. Not long after everything fell apart with Mia I developed a friends with benefits relationship with Suri but I was clear from the start that I never wanted anything more. I knew rather quickly though that she was developing feelings for me so I tried to end the relationship but she made an offer. And then I got really selfish.”

“Yoongi what did you do?”

“Remember how I said that at one point I had dreams to be a music producer and rapper?”

You nodded.

“Well Suri’s dad happens to own Bangtan Records, one of the most successful labels in Asia. After trying to break things off she promised me she would get her dad to release my mixtape if I kept seeing her. I know now that I should’ve just walked away but at the time I was hurt and going through a lot of shit mentally and emotionally and I thought it was a great idea. I lost my dream of marrying Mia but maybe I could still achieve my dream of making music. I gave her a copy of the tape and we continued on with our friends with benefits relationship.”

He paused to take a deep breath. You looked at him wide eyed waiting for what was next.

“Anyways after like a year or so she still hadn’t given her dad the tape. I was in a better place mentally and I had started focusing on the company more so I didn’t really care about releasing music at that point. Honestly, I kind of forgot about the whole thing until a few months ago when I told her that I was ending things for good. I told her I was married and wanted to be a better husband and that included not sleeping around with anyone any more. Obviously she didn’t take it well and brought up the tape again. She said if I didn’t continue the relationship that she would have it released.”

You sat there really confused by the whole story and you didn’t mean to let out a laugh but you just couldn’t stop it.

“Yoongi please forgive me for saying this but that seems like a really dumb reason to keep going through all of this. Why don’t you just let her release the mix tape? What’s the worst that could happen? People make fun of you for some cringy lyrics you wrote a long time ago. I mean you’ve embarrassed yourself enough over the years anyways so this shouldn’t be anything new. It would probably blow over in a few weeks and then you could move on with your life free from Suri.”

You realized your words may have been a little harsher than you intended when you noticed the redness of his cheeks. He scoffed, “It’s not that simple Y/N. I wrote most of those lyrics at a really dark time in my life. I talk about hating my parents and the life I was forced into even though I’ve been very privileged since birth and have never had to worry about money or any real world problems. I talk shit about capitalism but now I own a company that feeds into it and runs off of it. I’d be the biggest hypocrite out there. Theres a song where I rap about hooking up with any woman I see and I say something about tongue technology and going to Hong Kong.” You bit your lip to try and hide a chuckle for that one but Yoongi sees it. “I was young and dumb and thought I was cool. Okay?”, he said with raised eyebrows before continuing again, “I mean there’s even a song where I talk about how many times I thought about just ending it all so I wouldn’t have to feel anything any more and I could stop being a failure at everything. If that tape gets out it’ll ruin me and my business and everything that I worked hard to build. We’ll loose investors and business partners which will mean millions if not billions of dollars gone. I’ll be the laughing stock of the corporate world and the company could crumble. I’d be an even bigger embarrassment to my family than I already have been.”

“So what are you going to do Yoongi? Keep sleeping with her just to shut her up?”

“Honestly, after you walked out I thought about it. Not wanting to hurt you any more was the only reason I ended things with her to begin with so if you weren’t going to be in the picture I didn’t see any reason why I should stop. But I just don’t want to do it any more. I don’t want to hurt you any more and I don’t want this to keep hanging over my head.”

“Okay so if you ended things with her then why did she send you that text that I saw at the cabin? About last week being fun and the lingerie?”

“She had been insisting that I either meet up with her or she was releasing the tape. So the week before you and I went on our anniversary trip I did meet up with her just to shut her up for a while.”

You gasped, “So you did lie to me?” He went into panic mode grabbing your hands into his.

“No no no Y/N it’s not what you think. I didn’t meet up to sleep with her. We got dinner at that Japanese restaurant that had just opened down the street from my office. We had a private room and she ended up storming out of the place leaving me there. You can even ask the staff. They saw it all. I told her again that I wasn’t interested in that type of relationship any more and that her and I were over with. I offered her money. I offered her jewelry, or a car, or a penthouse to just go away. She wouldn’t accept any of it. At the end of the dinner she told me that not only would she release the tape but she’d make my life miserable in every way possible that she could, including making sure that you were miserable as well and then she left. She had been texting me like that the whole week leading up to the trip. Different photos and videos and messages. I think she was hoping that you would eventually see the message and get upset which is exactly what happened. I would always just delete them when they came through and never responded to any of her texts but I’m just too afraid to block her right now.”

“And what about her brother? How does he play into this?”

“Well Hwan never did like me to begin with. He’s always had this weird inferiority complex with me. He always has the need to prove that he’s better than me or to have what I have, even when we were younger. Anndddd I also might have slept with one or two or maybe three of his girlfriends over the years.”

You began rubbing your temples, “Seriously Yoongi? Is there anyone in this country that you haven’t slept with?” He just shrugged his shoulders before continuing, “I’m assuming that him and Suri saw it as a winning situation for both of them. They knew that hurting you would hurt me, you’d get upset and want nothing to do with me leaving me available for Suri, and Hwan would also get the satisfaction of taking something or someone that I love away from me so that’s why he went after you today.”

“Okay then and how did he know about Namjoon? He mentioned something about how Namjoon might actually care for me?”

You didn’t miss the eye roll that Yoongi gave at that question but you chose to ignore it in the moment. He ran his hands over his face, “I really don’t know Y/N. I’ve never mentioned him to either of them.” The thought that maybe this guy had been stalking you a lot longer than just tonight made your skin crawl. You didn’t know of any other way he could know about you and Namjoon.

This was all so much information to take in and you could feel a headache coming on but if this had you so stressed you could only imagine what Yoongi felt like.

“Yoongi I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain yourself sooner. Even though I was upset I should’ve at least given you the chance.”

He shook his head, “No no I completely understand why you did what you did. I was really upset too because just when I had decided to try and we were making a little progress I thought it was all going to be taken away from me. I should’ve chased after you but I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already have. I am really sorry Y/N. For everything. You would be so much better off if you never came here and married me. You deserve so much more that what I can offer. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

You noticed his hands shaking slightly. You gave them a little squeeze being careful to not be too hard on the bruised spot. Rubbing your thumb over the area you whispered, “Thank you for buying that painting for me today. You knew it was exactly what I wanted. And also thank you for, you know, saving me tonight. You really were my hero.”

“So does that mean I get moved up to Harry Potter status now or am I still Voldemort?”, he said flashing you a gummy smile you hadn’t seen in so long.

“Whoah slow down there. You still have a lot more groveling to do before I 100% forgive you for everything and give you Harry Potter status.”

He chuckled, “Understood. I will work on it.”

You sat in silence for a while trying to figure out how to proceed. Finally you asked, “Yoongi she’s blackmailing you which is pretty illegal. Why don’t you just go to the police or get lawyers involved or something? You obviously have the money and power.”

“It’s not that simple Y/N. I signed away the rights to that music so even if I do go after her the label can still release it and then it would be all for nothing with a legal battle on top of it.”

“I don’t know Yoongi. I feel like there has to be a way around this other than you just continuing to sleep with her. Which by the way is not going to work for me, so if you want this to work then we need to figure something else out.”

Before he could speak Jimin walked in dropping his bags at the entrance while being completely oblivious to everything that had happened during the last several hours. He curiously looked at the two of you sitting next to each other while holding hands.

He sat down on the other couch while pointing a finger at the two of you, “Soooo I’d love to know what’s going on between the two of you and why you’re holding hands in my living room right now. But I just saw something even stranger downstairs. Suri and her brother are currently down in the lobby with two police officers. Any idea why?”

[jackhues]

the devil and the runaway! au - prologue

note: prologue's here, finally! hope you guys like it! remember to like, rb <3 (also my tags aren't working for some reason, so pls rb if you see this!!)

the devil and the runaway! au - navigation

add or remove yourself from my mafia! au taglist

I should’ve left Monaco when I had the chance.

You should’ve packed your bags months ago and fled to another country — Hell, you should’ve fled across the world. Somewhere in South America perhaps. You knew enough languages to live comfortably in quite a few of the countries, didn’t you? Nico would be a little upset, but he would adjust quickly.

I should’ve left Monaco, you thought again, your eyes on the large figure falling to his knees, then the ground.

“Nice shot,” a raspy voice near your feet spoke.

Your hands shook violently, but you still weren’t able to let go of the gun. 

“I don’t even know how to shoot this thing,” your voice was shakier than your hands.

“Yeah, well, I’d say you did alright,” Charles Leclerc, the Devil himself, spoke, propping himself up slightly to see who you’d just shot. He looked back up at you, “Darling, I’m gonna need you to call someone for me.”

“The police?”

Charles barked out a laugh, before abruptly hissing and grabbing his abdomen. “That’s funny, but I can’t laugh because it hurts. No, you’re calling someone else.” He gave you a pointed look, “Someone who can help a little more than the police in this situation.”

“I left my phone inside,” you whispered, your fingers still gripping the gun.

“You wouldn’t be able to call with that anyways,” Leclerc continued, sucking a breath through his teeth and laying back on the gravel sidewalk.

The moon lit up your dusty street, just enough for you to make out the dark outline of liquid pooling beneath him.

“You were shot,” you muttered, staring at the blood. There was a lot of it.

“Yes, that’s why I ended up collapsing and dropping my gun in your hands,” he said, as if this interaction were an everyday occurrence. For him, it might’ve been. “Now, if you could just reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and call someone for me.”

“One of… one of your people?” you asked, still rooted at your spot.

Despite the bloodloss, you could see Charles Leclerc roll his eyes. “Yes, one of my people, as you so eloquently put it. Now, if you could snap out of whatever trance you’re in, I would appreciate it. You shot someone, maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s not. No one knows. But I’m not dead yet, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. So you can either call one of my people or keep pressure on the wound while I call.”

You blinked, part of you surprised that he’d managed to get that many words out despite the fact that he lost more blood than he should’ve.

“I’ll call,” you decided, going through his pocket and grabbing his phone. The gun remained glued to your other hand.

“The password is five-four-six-two,” he grunted, doing his best to stay awake. He misread the look on your face, “I change it multiple times a day, you won’t be getting anything from knowing that.”

Despite the situation, you rolled your eyes, unlocking the phone.

“Go to contacts, call Lorenzo,” he grunted, his breathing coming heavier now. “Make sure you say blue ribbon the second he picks up.”

“Why?” you asked on instinct, searching up the name.

Charles decided to indulge you this once, “Because otherwise, you’ll have a whole lot of my people coming in, looking for a fight.”

You gulped, turning away from those blue-green eyes, and clicked the contact Lorenzo. There was no picture, no extra information to tell you who the hell you were going to be calling.

“Is this it?” you asked, turning the screen so Charles could see.

“Yeah, call him,” he told you. “And make sure you say—”

“—Blue ribbon,” you said the second someone picked up.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Who is this?”

“Charles Leclerc has been shot,” you ignored the question. “He’s out here on the street, bleeding, and he told me to call you.”

You heard frantic shuffling on the other end of the line, someone barking out orders, a car starting. 

“Tell me everything.”

You told Lorenzo what had happened that night: you stepped out of your cafe/home to throw out the garbage, a figure practically ran into you while you were locking the door. Stumbling, he’d put a gun in your hands, before collapsing to the ground. Another figure followed closely behind, holding a gun in the air, aiming in your and Charles’ direction. Instinct took over, and you held the gun in the man’s direction, pressing the trigger. The man fell over, and hadn’t moved since then. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” you told Lorenzo, eyeing the pool of blood beneath Charles. It was getting a lot larger than you’d like.

“We’ll take care of it,” Lorenzo promised.

As if on cue, a silver Mercedes pulled up in front of you, the passenger door opening before the car even stopped. 

You watched the olive skinned man step out, phone pressed to his ear. He gave you a quick glance, nodding, before pocketing the phone.

The disconnect tone blared in your ear from Charles' phone.

Lorenzo Leclerc, the oldest of the three Leclerc brothers. Even though he was the oldest of the Brotherband, rumour was that he was too soft to lead. He never missed any of his shots, but he never raised a gun unless he was protecting his family. The role of the Devil was passed on to Charles by Lorenzo himself.

You stood awkwardly as Lorenzo knelt next to Charles, whispering in rapid French.

Even if you’d been in Monaco for nearly three years now, you didn’t speak French well enough to understand half of what they were saying.

You diverted your attention as the driver side door opened, depositing a dark skinned man in braids. You barely had time to register his profile before he raised a gun towards you, still walking closer.

“What the hell?” you shouted, your hands raised as you moved backwards.

“What’s your name?” The man said, still making his way towards you.

“Y/N Meadows,” you answered, eager to get the gun aimed away from you.

The man hesitated for a second, but continued forward.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“Drop the gun,” the man said, his own still pointed at you.

You looked at the gun in your hand, forgetting you were holding it. You placed it on the ground, your hands once again raised. Your fingers missed the feeling of being wrapped around it already.

The man took another step forward, and you took another step backwards. The door to your shop dug into your back, telling you there was no place to go.

The dark skinned man kept moving forward, taking his time as if he enjoyed seeing you look for an escape. The key was still in the lock, but even if you managed to get inside, there was nowhere to go. The Ferras would catch you if they wanted you, and the Brotherband that leads them… well you hoped Charles wouldn’t end you.

Your eyes shut on instinct once the barrel of the gun was pressed to your forehead. One shot, straight in the center, and you’d be dead. 

“Lewis,” Charles muttered from his spot on the floor. “Leave her alone, she shot the man who shot me.”

Lorenzo was on the phone again, still kneeling next to the injured Charles. You weren’t sure how much he saw or heard, but you were more than glad he intervened.

‘Lewis’ gave you a once over, speaking over his shoulder to Charles in an English accent. “You sure it was her? You’re not delirious or anything, are you?” 

“I’m fine,” Charles responded, flipping him off. “Go call Arthur and tell him to stop freaking out. After that, make sure you take care of the body down the street. The one she shot.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Lewis muttered, pocketing his gun.

You remained tense as Lewis moved back into the car, pulling out his phone and calling ‘Arthur’. 

Arthur Leclerc, The third and youngest of the Brotherband. He was still a Prema boy, one who’d come by your cat cafe quite a few times. Whiskers, who was notably the most hostile cat, seemed to enjoy Arthur’s company. You never knew what to think of the youngest, so you tried not to think of him at all.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Lorenzo said, addressing you for the first time ever. “We need to bring our medic here. Is there a couch or something in there we can use?”

You looked back at your cafe doors, realizing for a second how little these boys knew you. Granted, you knew little about them too. You knew you shouldn’t invite them, especially not while Nico was sleeping. 

Despite every instinct telling you to turn them away, you knew Lorenzo had a gun on him. Considering it was his brother’s life on the line, he could always shoot you, then go in anyways. Asking was his way of extending an olive branch in your direction.

Who’d watch Nico then?

“I’ve got a second room and bed if you’re willing to carry him up a couple stairs,” you offered. “The room’s soundproofed, and you’re less likely to wake the cats.”

“Lead the way,” he motioned, slinging his younger brother over his shoulders.

Charles groaned, adjusting himself over Lorenzo’s shoulders. You watched the pool of blood, looking away as you realized it was much bigger than you thought.

“Someone will clean it up,” Lorenzo told you, catching the way you looked at the blood.

You nodded, unlocking the cafe door, and leading two of the Leclercs to the guest bedroom. You opened the door, moving aside to let Lorenzo deposit his younger brother on the bed.

“You should probably put a sign out,” Lorenzo told you. “The cafe’s opening late tomorrow. In the afternoon. We’ll be gone by then.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Running a business was hard, especially when you had two mouths to feed… but opposing the oldest Leclerc could mean death. Just because Lorenzo didn’t shoot, doesn’t mean he has a problem against sending someone else in his stead.

You settled on a nod, stepping out of the room and writing out a note to stick on the door of the cafe. You texted your baristas, letting them know as well. Although, it was the middle of the night, and you were pretty sure quite a few of them would be upset with you in the morning. 

With a sigh, you looked out the cafe doors, noticing that the pool of Charles Leclerc’s blood was gone. As was the garbage bag you were supposed to throw out. You didn’t know how they did it, and you didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to be associated with the Ferras, or the Brotherband — or any other gang for that matter.

A little too late for that now, you supposed.

Shaking your head to yourself, you climbed back upstairs, past the guest bedroom. After the events of the night, you just wanted to curl up into bed next to your son, hold him close and assure yourself you’d be fine. Maybe you could move to Argentina, or even Brazil.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop on the boys as you walked past the guest bedroom, but the door was open, and they were arguing a little too loudly.

“He’s gone, though,” you recognized Lewis’ English accent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but he’s gone.”

“Charles, are you sure there was someone?” Lorenzo asked, his tone making it sound like they were well into the argument. “Like there was someone there and you know he fell to the ground?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Charles’ voice was steely. “She shot him, and he dropped. I’m pretty sure he was dead.”

“I didn’t see anybody,” Lewis said. “I was in the car, talking to Arthur the whole time. If someone came in and moved the body, we��d know.”

You held your breath, along with everyone else in that room.

It was the Devil who spoke, “How the hell does a man just disappear like that?”

[dead-dolphins]

Hey everyone! Welcome to my fic masterlist! I’m so glad you’re here, and before you start exploring, there are a few things I’d like to share with you:

Exclusively on AO3: I only publish my work on AO3, so if you happen to see my fics floating around somewhere else, please let me know. It’s likely an unauthorised reproduction, and I’d appreciate your help in keeping my work safe and where it belongs.

Tags and Themes: While I do follow certain themes and motifs across my fics, each one has specific tags on AO3. These tags are there to help you navigate the content and ensure it aligns with your preferences. Please take a moment to check them out before diving in—this way, we can both avoid any awkward or uncomfortable situations.

Tumblr AUs: If you’ve enjoyed any of my AUs on Tumblr, you’ll find their final, polished versions on AO3. Tumblr asks are fantastic for sparking ideas, but when it comes to writing, I put a lot of thought into my decisions, and the final product is always what you see on AO3.

No Post-Publishing Changes: Once a fic is published, I typically don’t make changes or add new chapters in between those already released. While I don’t foresee this changing in the future, if there’s ever a significant update or adjustment, I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop through my platforms.

Thanks so much for your support and for being part of this community. Writing is a joy, but sharing it with all of you makes it truly special. I hope you continue to enjoy the stories, and I look forward to hearing from you! Feel free to reach out if you have any questions or just want to chat about the fics.

Happy reading!

──✦ Through the Night — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Cabin fic.

It’s through the night when Eren’s mind doesn’t stop thinking while his hands don’t stop tracing the profile of the sleeping woman who rests at his side. The boy loses his faith and sinks alone. And it’s through the night too when Mikasa's sweet touch calms his demons. “We'll be free. The two of us, just wait”.

──✦ White Mustang — One shoot. Modern Au. Smut.

At a party packed with wealthy people, Mikasa is too bored to try to function with the dynamics of that environment. Just when everyone seems to be minding their own business, someone suggests her to illegally escape, even if it is just for a few moments. Destiny? The Mustang car parked in the empty back lot.

──✦ Snowdrops— One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Cabin fic.

Eren lifts his gaze green as the summer forest to meet Mikasa's pearly sparkling eyes. How lovely she is, he quickly thinks. "You can join us looking for snowdrops next Christmas. This time we'll wait for you. I promise." He nods with small tears of affection accumulating in the lines of his eyes. He likes that beautiful feeling. "Of course. We will."

──✦ Accidentally in Love — One shoot. Modern AU. Goth Eren & Normie Mikasa.

"She's so pretty, she's outstanding everywhere, and she also studies a difficult degree. Meanwhile, just look at me! I haven't left my goth stage since I was a teenager! I'm a complete disaster!" When a goth boy finds himself smitten with a cute girl (who happens to be his best friend), he's faced with a challenge: overcoming his shyness to ask her out on a date.

──✦ Love is a War — One shoot. Greek AU. Ares & Aphrodite retelling.

Just when the warrior thinks the girl will walk silently away, she turns around, dazzling him with her grey gaze. He quickly concludes that her eyes are not like stars. They are like distant galaxies in the universe that shine brightly, like sparks produced by the clash of the metal of two swords. “My name is Mikasa.” She looks up at him with the corners of her lips turned up, her cupid's bow so deep and so… captivating. “The goddess of love and beauty… or so they say.” “Eren,” he says, introducing himself, after a few seconds that taste like an eternity. “God of war.” In which the God of War falls madly in love with the goddess of love.

──✦ I apologise if you feel something — Short multi/chapter fic. Modern AU. OG Metalhead Eren.

“Maybe we could make it, you know… more private.” Mikasa thinks about it for a few moments. It isn’t a secret that Eren usually has one night standing with his fans. If she agrees, she knows that she’ll become part of a seemingly long list. As much as Eren, the vocalist of “The Rumbling” is the boy she has had a crush on for quite some time, is it worthy being on that list? Maybe, just maybe... yes.

──✦ don't ask, don't tell — One shoot. Modern AU. Mikasa/Eren/Mikasa

“We can make you feel better, you need it.” One of them tells him with her tender tinkle voice. “You've been so lonely lately, haven't you?” “Don't think about it too much, Eren.” The other girl demands with a fearless tone. “You need us.” Eren could have pushed them away, he could have finally run away, because he never told either of them his name. However, he closes his eyes and lets them put a pill on his tongue that he swallows with pleasure. Then, everything goes black…

──✦ All He Ever Wanted — One shoot. Modern AU. Inspired in Around the corner by ili-akkaman.

The day his nose met the strength of her fist smoothly transformed into days riddled with secret kissing in the same house as Carla and Faye; behind the curtains, in the kitchen, or in the garage. Dating secretly from Levi, only around the corner from Mikasa’s house, with the significant risk of being discovered at any time. Yet when they were alone, all the prior tricks they did with fidgety hands fissioned and burst into something wonderful. They invariably ended up rubbing together, tangled up on Eren's mattress of soiled sheets, utterly disregarding Mikasa's curfew.

──✦ Scarlet — Ficlet. Canon divergence AU. Scarlet With inspired.

And at that moment, it all became crystal clear to her. The four years of bliss, the cabin in the mountains, and the unborn child were nothing more than a long dream that had finally reached its end. Welcome to the real world, Mikasa.

──✦ The Promised Princess — Longfic. Medieval fantasy AU. aka Lord Eren & Princess Mikasa. ONGOING

“I'm not sure how to describe it to you, but I saw you, Mikasa, in the deepest of my wolf dreams, I saw you. It makes me think that perhaps… Perhaps we were always meant to be together.” When the last rays of summer kiss the lands of the Seven Kingdoms, a spring-born princess is betrothed to a Winterlord. With small traces of an immemorial connection between dreams, they will soon realise that it is not simply the promise of a king that has drawn them together.

──✦ Chemical Hype Boy — Longfic. Modern AU. aka Actor Eren & Idol Mikasa. ONGOING

“I’ve reached a point where I can’t even picture a life without you anymore, let alone breathe. You’ve taken over my world, become my everything... My foolish heart? It’s not mine; it’s yours—all yours to take and hurt if you want, Mikasa.”  Everyone knows that A-list actor Eren Yeager hates idols. Yet his life is abruptly disturbed when he meets Mikasa, a top idol who has trained with blood, sweat, and tears to find her spot on stage—being him her biggest inspiration. A relationship, tinged with flavours of secrecy, ignites between them. But can it last when their not-so-similar worlds threaten to keep them apart?

FLOWERS SERIES — Set of one-shots inspired by the eremika cabin with an accidental pregnancy.

──✦ Growing Flowers — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Cabin fic.

You know, we never did get married.” “I didn’t think it mattered to you,” she answers. “Honestly, I feel like we’ve been married for a long time already.” Eren’s laughter, though somewhat strained, rings out as if he’s made an effort to do it. “Well, you’re right about that,” he concedes. “I’ve been married to you since I met you. But if you need a ring…” He reaches into his pants pocket and retrieves two wedding rings, their origin a mystery known only to him. “Here, this is for you.” “Eren…” Mikasa’s voice trembles, and she fights to keep her composure. She doesn't want to break down. She should not. She must not. She cannot. “Thank you,” she says instead, allowing him to place the wedding ring on her finger. Yet Mikasa secretly believes that the red scarf serving as the baby pillow in the basket is her true wedding ring. Months after their daring escape from the ravages of war, two soldiers find themselves confronting the bitter reality that the dreams they once held dear still persist. Flowers grow in Mikasa's belly, and Eren does nothing but cultivate them until his last breath.

──✦ Blooming Flowers — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Epistolary sequel to Growing Flowers.

Please, when my time comes, wait for me on the other side and hold my hand, Eren. Rest assured that I will recognize you instantly, I always did, and I always will. Perhaps, there, we can live a long and happy life together. Wouldn’t it be wonderful? Now and always yours, The girl who never gave up on you, Mikasa. Mikasa grieves by writing letters to her most beloved, recounting the events that have unfolded since he went away.

──✦ Whitered Flowers — One shoot. Canon divergence AU. Epistolary Sequel to Blooming Flowers.

Thank you for the life you have lived, for the strength you have shown, and for the love that has never faded. You are, and always will be, the most extraordinary girl I have ever known. Our journey together is far from over; it is simply moving to a new and beautiful chapter. You and I, Mikasa, we will be eternal. Lovingly yours, The boy who sought freedom, The one who loves you the most, Your husband, Your man, Eren. PS: I am waiting for you on the other side and trust me, I am ready to hold your hand. In the afterlife, Eren responds to his most beloved's letters.

UPDATED: 14/08/24

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Shell

Author's Note: More of Ramiel in Living Waters AU. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric. Thank you to @egrets-not-regrets for helping me with keeping in character and letting me Borrow Lenora and Erriox.

Summary: Ramiel and the other Primaris marines share a meal together and he finds a sea shell to give as a gift to Lenora and Erriox. He's meeting them for the first time and is a little nervous about it.

Warnings: None that I can tell, let me know if I need to add anything.

Past =-= Next

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Ramiel is humming to himself as he is gathering up some fish for supplementation for supper. He listens to Jophiel happily chattering about his mom Lenora and not-dad Erriox, and he notices Claude swimming towards them. He nods towards Claude who has a determined look on his face.

“Did you need something, Claude?” Ramiel asks his brother-cousin, tilting his head a little as he continues to prepare the fish.

“Yes,” Claude says, “I think you should meet Mom and Erriox.”

“Alright,” Ramiel says after a few moments of thought. “When do you want me to meet them?”

“Both of them should be at the nest in a few days- so I’ll have you meet them,”  Jophiel chimes in, a gleam in his eyes that speaks of satisfaction. Of a plot that he’s thinking of slowing enfolding in the ways he wants it to.

Ah- that is something he should talk to Cedric about. Jophie’s been plotting recently. Hopefully he’s looped in Catius. Who’s the best at tactics and logistics of the lot of them? Ah- he should speak with Catius as well. Otherwise his plans tended to go. Uh. Awry. Some of the times.

The Noodle Incident.

Nope. Stop. Not thinking about that right now. Also not thinking about how Jophiel almost became a Lamenter. Almost. Ramiel pauses and murmurs a prayer of thankfulness to the God Emperor for that. 

Jophiel didn’t need that kind of bad luck following him due to Warp-witchery cursing that poor Chapter of the Sons of the Great Angel. Not with the difficulties he has already. He shakes his head a little and decides to not think about it. That causes his mood to fall and his brother-cousin to worry.

He focuses on Claude and Jophiel talking about and he nods and agrees to meeting with Lenora and Erriox in a few days time as he mentally goes over his list of tasks that he’d like to get done today, and what gifts he should bring for Erriox and Lenora. 

He’s heard that in some cultures it’s polite to bring a gift as a guest to someone who’s important to someone close to you. Or something like that? Hm. He’ll have to think on what to get them. Ramiel turns to Jophiel and asks, “what do Erriox and Lenora like for gifts?”

“Huh? Oh- you don’t have to bring them a gift,” Jophiel says leaning into Ramiel a little, “The gift is your presence.”

Ramiel’s ears go bright red at that and he turns his face away a little as he recovers his composure. He coughs a little and says, “If you’re sure…”

“Very sure, Rami,” Jophiel says as he leans more onto Ramiel, draping one of his wings across his body.

 Ramiel huffs a little and shrugs his shoulders, which has Jophiel not leaning so much of his weight on his fellow Primaris Marine, gently folding his wings on his back with a soft hum. Also, occasionally stealing pieces of fish or seaweed as they prepare the supplemental food. 

The whole squad of them comes together to eat the mixture of rations and freshly prepared fish and other foraged foods. They speak of what they have done and see for the day, and what they hope to accomplish for the next cycle. 

Ramiel quietly prays over the food, thanking the God Emperor and his brother-cousins for their help in hunting, foraging, cooking, and cleaning before and after the cooking of the meal has occurred. The prayers take place before they start the meal. 

Over the next few days Ramiel scours the area, while he keeps in mind what Jophiel says about not needing to bring a gift, he wants to bring a gift, he can find one that is good enough. Over his eyes alight on something that shimmers in the water and he dives down to grab it. 

It’s a seashell, with a bright iridescent sheen- he’s heard of Abalone shells, and how they can be used for trade and gifts. Highly prized for their luster and sheen. He carefully tucks the intact shell into a pouch- thinking of asking Cedric or one of the others to help him get the shell up to proper polishing and shine levels. While it looks small in his hands, in those who are of a baseline human size, or a Harpy, they look much bigger.

“Cedric!” He calls out, “I found an intact Abalone shell. I think it would make a good gift for Lenora and Erriox. Could you help me polish it?”

“Sure thing!” Cedric responds with a cheerful smile as he swims over to help his brother out. “How do you feel about meeting Jophie’s parents for the first time?”

“A little nervous,” Ramiel admits to his fellow Black Templar quietly, “However, I’m glad that I get to meet a couple of people that are so important to Jophiel and Claude.”

The day he gets to meet Lenora and Erriox arrives, and he’s not entirely surprised, but still a little nervous about it. Which he will power through, he is a Black Templar after all and a Space Marine. Space Marines aren’t trained to feel fear however trauma can, does, and will affect them and their brothers, veteran and apprentice alike. 

His nearly completely black tail, with only a few, thin strips of white denote him as a Chaplain-in-training. Ramiel had hesitated, but had decided that, since he wasn’t trying to show hostility (even though he is meeting a Son of Perturabo- a First Born, at that), not wearing his armor or weapons might help the First Born Space Marine feel more at ease. 

The infamous tensions between their gene-lines make this a potentially fraught meeting. He wouldn’t attack first, nor was he planning to- but the temperament, personality type and Reputation of his Chapter doesn’t make meeting others easy or likely to go well. 

It doesn’t help that Ramiel’s heard of Black Templar pods attacking the sentient magical beings and creatures that live alongside humanity on Holy Ancient Terra. Diplomacy was almost considered a swear word, and definitely something he’s heard called as a form of ‘cowardice’ by some of his more hardliner and militant brothers in the Black Templar pods.

Ramiel swims after Jophiel and Claude, the carefully polished abalone shell was in a pouch slung across his waist. He waits as Jophiel, Cedric, and Claude greet Erriox and Lenora cheerfully. He is glad that they have some parental-type guidance in their lives, it seems to have steadied them in ways that they hadn’t been before. That he hadn’t realized that they weren’t until after the effect the pair of them had on his brother.

The meeting spot that they’d arranged to meet at was on an island nearby that was mostly neutral ground. It was- he’d later find out -where Lenora first met Jophiel, who’d been having one of his fits. He carefully takes out the abalone shell, that he’d decided to gift the pair of them.

He straightens to attention briefly when Erriox and Lenora shift their gaze to him and he dips his head a little and greeting and says, “Hello Miss Lenora and Brother Erriox, I’m Ramiel- I’ve heard a lot about you from Jophiel, Claude and Cedric. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ramiel,” Lenora says with a warm smile as she looks him over. 

His dark coloration- much darker than the nearly glowing white in the water due to how brightly white his colorations were was a bit fascinating and startling. Lenora hadn’t realized, although it did make sense, that a difference in coloration could be startling between the same kind of mer.

“I hadn’t realized Black Templars could have such strikingly different colorations,” Lenora tells him.

“Ah- it’s due to… specialization, ma’am,” Ramiel says as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “Cedric’s an Apothecary-in-training, and I’m a Chaplain-in-training. Specialists tend to have more dramatic colorations than the standard battle brother. I think it’s so that we are more noticeable when in battle or something?”

“Fair enough,” Lenora says, noticing the shimmering shell in his hand, “Oh- an intact Abalone shell, how rare.”

“I found it,” Ramiel says, puffing up his chest with pride, “I … thought it might make an nice gift.”

“It would,” Lenora says with a nod.

“Then it’s yours,” Ramiel says, offering it to her, “I mean it as a gift for you and Erriox. Cedric, Claude, and especially Jophiel, have been talking to me a lot about you two, and how much peace and joy you’ve given them…. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Lenora says, “I don’t need a gift.”

Ramiel wilts a little, she had said that she thought it would be a fine gift… but why doesn’t she want it? Did he pick the wrong thing? He blinks a little, and notices Lenora shift closer and gently grasp the shell from him.

“But I will accept it,” Lenora says, watching the way Ramiel perks up at that. 

It breaks her heart how hard on themselves, Jophiel and his brother-cousins are. She also has an amused, wry suspicion that, perhaps, Jophiel wants to have her and Erriox adopt Ramiel as well. 

He’d asked, after she’d met Cedric, if they'd adopt him as well, if Cedric accepted. And then had given her those devastating liquid red eyes that had her heart melting. She’d told him she’d talked to Erriox about it.

Erriox had grumbled about it, muttering about “Scouts who think they are sneaky and clever but aren’t.”

Then he’d turned to her and smirked, saying, “I bet Jophiel’s going to ask us to adopt a full squad of five Primaris Astartes, and likely not one of them from the same gene-line.”

Erriox bet kisses if he was right. Lenora laughs, saying she gives him kisses all the time anyways. Still, she can’t deny her own curiosity of who else Jophie is going to ask them to adopt. 

So far- Erriox had been right, for the most part, Ramiel and Cedric are both Black Templars (sons of Dorn) as Erriox had explained it while grumbling about how most Sons of Dorn are very aggravating to deal with. Usually. 

She pulls away from her thoughts and focuses back on Ramiel. He’s just as large as the rest of her sons, similar build, if a bit more scarred up than the others. She notices with concern the scar on his chest, it looks like something really sharp might have pierced his chest- worrying because it was near where his heart. Er. Hearts are located.

They talk for a few moments more, as they turn- hearing someone come near them, it’s Erriox who greets her and Ramiel with a gruff nod. His tail loosely wraps around one of Lenora’s ankles.

Jophiel and the rest of their sons had been talking about Ramiel recently, likely warming him up to the idea of meeting yet another Son of Dorn- and a Black Templar at that. What Jophiel had failed to mention was the Specialty that this other Scoutling has. 

Chaplains are the beating hearts of a Chapter, they help guide the brothers from Aspirant to Battle Brother and beyond. They help tend to the mental, emotional and battle-trauma needs of their fellows.

How by the Throne on Terra, a Baby Librarian, a Baby Apothecary and a baby Chaplain, hadn’t been noticed and snatched up by one, or more of the local pods, he didn’t know. It certainly implied that the boys may be avoiding their older brothers for some reason or another. 

Or it is simply due to coincidence, but with a Baby Librarian among their number, he thinks that’s unlikely. Erriox would love to get that explanation out of the boys. One Specialist in a squad of scouts was fine, two were… unusual, but three. Hm. 

He might have to talk to his pod leader, after he gets the story from the Scouts to see if they had reasons, good reasons, for not joining a shoal. He doesn’t want to overcomplicate things, and white he’s busy most of the time, he can sometimes keep an eye on the Scouts. Jophiel and Claude have come to him, asking about certain logistical and/or tactical things from time to time. 

So- for now, he’ll wait, build trust with the boys and see why they are avoiding most of their ‘first born’ space marines brothers. A few hours later- Ramiel leaves- stating that he’s off to go get some supplies for Cedric.

Jophiel turns to look at both of them with plaintive red eyes, and Erriox knows what he’s going to ask before he opens his mouth. He arches an eyebrow at his first not-son and says, “If Ramiel wants to be adopted by us… well… I need to get to know him more before I say yes or no.”

“Yes sir,” Jophiel says with a slight pout on his face.

Lenora hums and nods in agreement, lightly patting Jophiel’s arm as she reminds him that he needs to help his Gannet Aunties with some reconstruction efforts. There had been a really bad storm and, while everyone was safe and hadn’t been injured, a couple of the big rocks had shifted, and some of the trees had fallen.

After the boys have left, Erriox smirks down at her a little bit, and she huffs at him pointing out, “Ramiel is also a Black Templar- but I think you’re right. Jophi’s trying to have us adopt a bunch. I’m not opposed to the idea, what about you?”

“I have… gotten used to the idea,” Erriox says with a grumble. “I didn’t think I’d basically become a pseudo-scout sergeant- and yet, life has a way of changing things in ways we don’t expect.”

At least, they are mostly independent and can get themselves in and out of trouble with minimal help. He still gets plenty of time with his lovely mate Lenora- the boys often more out doing their own things and hunting, but it’s nice to have them come back and be at the nest at the same time he is from time to time so that he knows they are doing well. 

It also helps ease something within his hearts- that one or more of the boys will be with Lenora while he’s gone. He knows that Lenora can, and has the capability and capacity to fight and defend herself. But- he’s occasionally had nightmares about random astartes finding and hurting, and or killing her. And he only finds out about it after the fact. But- that isn’t something he has to worry about. Not as much as he had before, at least.

Erriox snorts a little as his thoughts drift to something happier- Ramiel’s potential reaction to the Gannet Aunties. Cedric’s reaction had been highly entertaining. Jophiel had told him the right of it- that one is certainly shy. He wonders if being sweeter tempered is something that is true for all Baby Black Templars or if it’s only something that is true for Cedric and Ramiel.

That that he’s tempted to really find out. Sons of Dorn and Sons of Perturabo do not get along well. And from what he’s learned of, in the ensuing ten thousand years, that series of grudges has only gotten worse with time.

[cheshiresense]

Anon:

Fandom: Harry Potter (CLV kinda?)

Character or Ship: Hadrian from CLV, I love Hadrian/Orion but that might not work here so it's totally up to you!

AU/Trope: I'd love to see an AU where instead of the CLV dimension, Hadrian is sent to a universe still with BWL!Neville but more similar to canon. Maybe with Slytherin!Hadrian and Hadrian taking some of the other Slytherins under his wing? I just really like the idea of a world where the "good guys" win and instead of (or in addition to) Orion it's the Slytherins who need Hadrian in their corner. Doesn't have to be all of them, whoever you prefer writing is fine. I am also down for bashing if you need to work that in. Thank you!

Tags: CLV AU, Slytherin!Hadrian, Canonical Prejudices, Draco Malfoy Bashing, kind of?, tbh this is more or less how I see him in canon lol but I know he's a fan favourite so fair warning, he's not the CLV version here, at least not yet.

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Author's Notes: Hello, it's been a while since I've worked on these. I think I mentioned before that my tumblr inbox got glitchy so I actually couldn't find the other 6 requests from the last batch of 10 you guys sent in for 5+ Headcanons. So I set up an airtable form instead and got someone to test it, and this was the one they sent. It works, so in the future, I'll toss out a new post with the form link for more requests, and maybe I'll get through them in a timely manner lol.

If you're not in the UraIchi server, then you might've noticed that I've sort of been MIA on the writing front for a while now, the last time I wrote and posted something was like back in May last year, and honestly I've been kind of tired and burnt out ever since, and real life is kicking my ass a bit, so when I do have spare time, all I feel like doing is reading fics or webnovels and sleeping. But the winter hols were a nice break for me, and I've started on a couple new fic ideas and added to some wips on and off over the past few months, so I'm slowly getting back into it, and this 5+ Headcanons prompt was one of the things I've been working on. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back into posting fics soon.

ANYWAY, on to the stuff you actually care about: Slytherin!Hadrian, so basically amp up the hardened war vet and dial down the friendship magic XD Way back when I first started CLV, I did consider Slytherin for his House but it felt like everybody did that, plus the politics I would have to get into gave me a headache and I felt like I couldn't do it justice anyway, so I went with Hufflepuff. Slytherin does give me more options to play with a powerful Hadrian who has less morals about flinging that around to get what he wants though since he would be viewed as a halfblood at best and he'd need that currency to make sure nobody messes with him, especially if this universe is more canon than CLV (lbr, almost everybody is at least 50% nicer in CLV lol). So okay, let's give this a spin.

(AO3 Link Here -- I’ll add this to the collection fic on my AO3 to make it a round 15 but this one will be the last for that. If I do more, I’ll start a new fic.)

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1.

Hadrian ends up being a Hatstall. He sits on the stool for a full seven minutes as the Sorting Hat sifts through his bloodstained memories with a silence so grim Hadrian is tempted to comfort it. Then it proceeds to send back memories of its own, the major points of recent Hogwarts history that would best help Hadrian fit in - Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; an image of Hadrian's counterpart and an entire family still alive; Quirrell vanquished in first year, a basilisk slain and a diary that bled itself to death in the second, Remus teaching in the third but no Pettigrew in sight; Neville at odds with Potter, Gryffindors at odds with Slytherins, and Death Eater children who hadn't managed to come out of the last war as financially and politically secure as families like the Malfoys, subtly shunned for their parents' sins, while children from the Light side, the winning side, with parents who'd openly defied Voldemort, can do almost no wrong. On the surface, everything looks bright and happy. Beneath it, malcontent and despair bubbles and brews with hardly anyone the wiser, and those who are, are glad to look away.

The Sorting Hat offers no opinions of its own after it is done, only continuing on to extol the virtues of all four Houses while making an argument for why Hadrian would be perfectly suited for each of them in equal measure, before finally leaving the decision in Hadrian's hands.

"Even I cannot be certain where you would do the most good," the Sorting Hat tells him. "Nor do I know which House would do you the most good. There are many children in this school who could use a helping hand such as yours, and likewise, you too would benefit from the same. Who am I to decide which is more important? Perhaps it is most accurate to say that no matter where you end up, who you will help, and who you will allow to help you, a new future will unfold, one made possible only by your existence. Yours is a fate that demands change, Mr. Evans, for better or for worse. But when peril looms on the distant horizon, when our society insists on blind stagnancy, and its people have long stood divided, change is exactly what this world needs. Thus, I leave the choice to you. Where do you wish to go?"

Hadrian says nothing - thinks nothing - for a long deafening minute. The mounting whispers in the Great Hall are easy enough to tune out, and within the confines of his mind, the Hat too remains patiently silent.

The truth of it is - Hadrian is tired. Even now, in this moment, in this place, one year and an entire dimension and seven years away, he still feels like he does on most days— as if he's just walked off a battlefield at the end of one of those kinds of days that can break a man even when you think there's nothing left to break, yet still hyper-alert for the next enemy, the next fight, the next death, because he doesn't know how to do anything else, how to be anything else. On all the rest, of course, it feels as if he never left the battlefield at all.

He is tired, and he honestly doesn't feel like he's capable of helping anyone, not children, not the reflections of his loved ones, and certainly not an entire world that's rapidly revealing itself to be as stuck on a one-way train to hell as his original world had been.

He doesn't want to be a hero, doesn't know how to be one even after all these years, even when other people had always so desperately wanted him to be. A hero, until he'd proven unable to meet their expectations, and then he'd been their villain, right up until they'd needed a hero to stand in front of them again, and round and round and round they'd gone.

The only thing he could never be was just Harry, just himself, and now even Harry Potter is no longer his to claim.

But maybe that's not so bad, not when Harry Potter has always been more story than reality, a patchwork fairytale portrait of a boy, a man, a weapon, a sacrifice, stitched together by every hand except his own.

Maybe Hadrian Evans could be something different.

Gryffindor feels too much like repeating history, and Hadrian would rather not be forced to stare at the majority of those long dead to him day in and day out. Hufflepuff is too prone to crowding together for his liking, persistently eager to be friends with their own members even if they're quick to turn on those who aren't, and Hadrian doesn't think he can bear the overenthusiastic socializing that would require.

 Ravenclaw might be best, a House where even the most introverted can find a home if they have a thirst for knowledge, but at the same time, for a lot of them, once they latch on to a question unanswered or an opinion that doesn't fit their worldview, they won't let go until the question is exhausted or the opinion has conformed to what they consider acceptable, and Hadrian has too many secrets and no more patience to be what others what him to be to fit in with those sorts of people anymore. Besides, he's never quite forgiven that House as a whole. Marietta Edgecombe had been Ravenclaw. Quirrell and Lockhart and Trelawney had been Ravenclaws. Every single one of Luna's bullies had been Ravenclaws. He'd worked with members of that House over the years, taught them back when the DA had been up and running, and even been friendly with some of them beyond just Luna, but generally speaking, he has no positive emotions regarding Ravenclaw. He knows that he isn't being entirely fair, because Voldemort had been from Slytherin, and Pettigrew had been from Gryffindor, and the worst of the lot who'd spearheaded the damaging gossip and baseless accusations incriminating him - first for the Heir of Slytherin debacle in second year, and then the Cup nonsense in fourth year - had all been from Hufflepuff, but still, Ravenclaw simply stands out as that one House that holds no appeal for him.

That really only leaves one place he can go though, and Hadrian finds that he minds that a lot less than he once would've. Slytherin will have its own problems, him being a halfblood at best with a very obvious muggle surname, but Slytherins also respect power, and most of them have the sense to back off if they realize they're picking a fight with an opponent they can't beat. And once that's dealt with, Hadrian will most likely be avoided and left to his own devices, with only the occasional curse to his back to worry about. From a bunch of schoolchildren, that's a negligible issue.

In his head, the Sorting Hat chuckles. "Very well then. If you're sure, better be-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

But Mr. Evans," the Sorting Hat says in the seconds before it's removed from Hadrian's head. It sounds thoroughly amused. "Do not be so quick to underestimate your own heart."

And with that last ominous statement imparted to haunt him, Hadrian stands to lacklustre applause and makes his way to his new House as his tie settles into green and silver stripes.

The briefest of glances over the stretch of the Slytherin table tells him that none of the students seated where most of the fourth-years are gathered have moved to make room for him. That's fine. Hadrian would rather not be boxed in anyway. He takes a seat at the end of the table, smiles at the suspicious first-years around him, and then waits for Dumbledore's opening speech to finish so they can start the feast.

Fifteen minutes later, one treacle tart and a glass of pumpkin juice is all he can manage. He sips at some water for the rest of dinner even as he wishes it was something a lot more alcoholic. He speaks to no one, and no one tries to speak to him, although plenty of prying eyes and sneers of disdain find their way to him throughout the meal.

It makes him feel, Hadrian thinks with some humour, almost nostalgic.

Near the end of the evening, he thinks about going over to the Gryffindor table to find Neville, Ron, and Hermione. But he's in Slytherin now, so he doesn't know how they'll react, and after another moment of contemplation, he decides against it. Not much can embarrass him anymore, but he'd still rather not be put on the spot if the Golden Trio rejects his overture of friendship. It won't help his reputation in Slytherin either if he ends up making a spectacle of himself like that. There's plenty of time tomorrow to see how they'll feel about maintaining ties with a Slytherin without too big of an audience watching, and if they're against it, then, well, it's not as if Hadrian hasn't been living as a recluse over the better part of the past year anyway. He sees no problem carrying on exactly as he has.

Fate sent him here against his explicit permission but she sure as shit can't make him dance.

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2.

Hadrian ends up shuffled into a dorm room with five very familiar Slytherins - Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. He gets the remaining bed that's presumably been empty since the others' first year, and a very pointed silence coalesces at his back as he starts unpacking his clothes into his wardrobe.

He ignores it. Instead, he absently begins a count of how long it will take for someone - he's betting Draco - to put their foot in their mouth first. He casts a glance at the floor-to-ceiling window next to his nightstand; like the Gryffindor dorms, the room is circular so everyone has a view to the outside, but here, instead of winds and open skies, it's lake water that shimmers against the glass, with the shadows of passing aquatic life flickering by. It's not bad, just different; the ambience of it is almost soothing.

Someone clears their throat behind him. Hadrian hangs up his winter cloak before moving on to his books. They each get a desk too, complete with a mini bookcase, which the Gryffindor dorms don't have. They have to do their homework on their beds or in the common room. How unfair. But at least Hadrian gets to benefit from it now.

Someone clears their throat again, louder this time. Hadrian smothers a twist of a smirk and bends over his trunk again to fish out his towels and toiletries. His more personal belongings can remain inside, although he'll have to ward everything to the nines anyway.

A displeased noise that comes out gilded with that distinctly familiar Dudley-esque whine of a child who's been spoiled since birth and has never known hardship reaches his ears, and then finally-

"Are you deaf, Evans?!" Draco demands, and oh, look at that, Hadrian wins the bet.

He straightens and turns, idly fiddling with a packet of quills as his gaze falls on the blond standing puffed up and bristling by the bed opposite Hadrian's on the other side of the dorm. He looks him over, looks at Crabbe and Goyle bracketing him with twin expressions of oafish scorn, looks at Zabini standing a ways away, watching the whole room with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes, looks at Nott who doesn't look at anyone at all.

His attention returns to Draco, considering him for a moment longer before asking mildly, "Did you say something?"

Draco's cheeks flush pink even as he draws himself up and snaps, "You should at least have enough manners to introduce yourself!" His face narrows into a sneer, and Hadrian can almost predict his next words. "But I suppose even that might be too difficult for a mudblood to learn."

For a second, Hadrian wonders if he should tell him he's a halfblood. Then again, it doesn't really matter, and also some people consider halfbloods to be mudbloods too. And now that he thinks about it, the person he is in this world might actually be a muggleborn. But he was homeschooled so at least one of his fictional parents had to have known magic, right? Then again, they could've just been related to a witch or wizard but were muggles themselves. Who knows. Certainly not him since Fate couldn't be bothered to inform him.

"Evans, are you listening to me?!"

Hadrian blinks out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm listening, what is it?"

Draco glares. His features are so… pointy at this age that the expression doesn't really carry the impact he's probably going for, but Hadrian figures it would be unnecessarily mean to mention it, so he doesn't. Instead, he quickly reviews everything Draco has said, and there wasn't actually a question anywhere in there, as far as Hadrian can tell, but maybe Draco really does want an introduction. Seems like a waste of breath though.

"Is there a point to introducing myself?" He asks. "Everybody heard my name at the Sorting. You even just used it so it's not like you don't know."

Draco splutters as if that wasn't what he expected Hadrian to say. He recovers after a moment and opts to glower harder instead, as if that would hide the way the pink in his cheeks is slowly turning red. Poor bastard. That's what you get when you have a pale complexion and fluster easily.

"Are you actually a mudblood then?" He demands contemptuously.

Hadrian honestly doesn't know, but he can't say that, so he volleys back, "Does Slytherin accept muggleborns?"

He knows they take halfbloods, but he can't remember any muggleborns in Slytherin, although if there are any, he doubts they would be willing to broadcast it, even if it means inventing a magical parent in their family tree.

"Of course not!" Draco refutes, sounding scandalized.

Hadrian can't tell if that's actually true, or if that's just Draco's own belief, but it does make things easier. "Then…" He shrugs. "If you already know, why are you asking?"

A beat of silence passes, then two. The red deepens in Draco's face as he hisses dramatically, "Are you mocking me?"

Hadrian suppresses a sigh. He probably is being too flippant for someone as high-strung as Draco, but it's still a far sight from mockery. He can definitely do better if he wants to taunt someone. Had his world's Draco been this easily riled up? They hadn't even really gotten into any exchange of insults yet. "I wouldn't say I'm-"

He stops.

Across the room, Draco has pulled out his wand, and when he realizes that Hadrian's broken off mid-sentence, the flush recedes from his face, and a triumphant smirk instantly takes its place instead.

"Since you've been sorted into Slytherin," Draco announces, raising his wand with a ridiculously showy flourish that makes Hadrian twitch with the desire to correct his posture. "You should know your place. Mouthing off to your betters is a good way to get cursed around here, especially when you're in the presence of someone like me." He sneers down his nose even as his chin tips up, all peacock proud. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Even the likes of your kind should've heard of my family." He looks smug, as if a mere surname can protect him from anything when it comes down to it. "You'll be staying here for the next four years, Evans, and I guarantee you'll have a miserable time of it if you get on my bad side. But today's your first day at Hogwarts, so I can be generous. If you apologize, I'll let you go just this once."

An expectant hush falls as Draco finishes his little speech. Hadrian doesn't say anything right away, still turning over the packet of quills in his hands, still waiting. When nothing happens after a good five seconds tick by, and the silence gradually becomes strained, Hadrian finally nods at Draco's wand, "So are you going to use that or not?"

The stunned look of outrage on Draco's face is gold.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Evans!" Draco snarls, jabbing out with his wand. "Oscausi!"

Hadrian has time to arch an eyebrow at the choice of a pseudo-silencing charm before he's flipping a quill into the fingers of his left hand. A swipe of his thumb leaves a chain of runes glittering along its shaft, and then he brings it up, catches the oncoming spell with the tip, and swats it aside with a flick of his wrist, all in one fluid motion. His right hand doesn't stay still either as his wand slides neatly into his palm, and a single wordless modified Expelliarmus darts out and attaches itself to Draco's wand.

The white light of the Mouth-Sealing Charm is sent soaring across the room, shattering against the door in a shower of harmless sparks, and in the heavy silence that follows, Hadrian smiles.

He thinks it's a very bland smile, if he does say so himself. At the very least, he's careful to not look too intimidating or too unhinged, the way he can sometimes get, if some of his dead friends were to be believed, back during the war. Nevertheless, it still makes Draco blanch white, makes Crabbe and Goyle shrink back, makes Zabini lean further back into a convenient shadow and Nott go utterly still from where he's sitting on his bed.

Hadrian glances down at the remains of his writing utensil, most of the barbs now burnt black. It was a regular quill after all, not exactly made to withstand so much magic. He looks back up, at Draco who has a white-knuckled grip on his wand, and with his own wand, he gives the other's a tug, just enough to make Draco's eyes go wide with something like panic, but not enough to actually disarm him and - considering the sheer amount of honed intent in the charm that even Draco can undoubtedly sense - most likely bend the wand's allegiance.

Hadrian holds it for a moment longer, and then lets go. Draco staggers back a step, jerking his wand down and reflexively pressing it into his chest as if he's trying to protect it, or maybe assure himself that it still belongs to him.

Hadrian tucks his wand back up his sleeve before stooping down to pick up the rest of the quills he'd dropped. The burnt one goes in the bin by his desk.

Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.

"That took you almost five seconds," He begins almost conversationally as he opens a drawer to stash his remaining quills away. "From when you decided to fire that spell to actually firing it. And that's not even counting all the time you wasted saying the stuff before that, after you already took out your wand. It's stupid. When you draw with the intent to harm, you shouldn't give any warning at all. And the spell itself was slow. You should work on that."

He pauses, and there's still no response, which he supposes makes sense. He doubts anybody here wants to listen to him preach. He should just wrap things up since the plan is moving along so neatly.

"Anyway, this is pretty unfortunate," He switches gears and smiles again, as fit-for-public-polite as he knows how to be. It doesn't seem to make anyone feel better, but he also doesn't feel like he was that heavy-handed earlier, was he? Ah well, can't change anything now, and it's still in line with what he wants so it doesn't matter.

"I wasn't really expecting to make any friends since I know the average Slytherin's views on blood isn't exactly in my favour," He continues in light tones. "But I was hoping that we could at least remain on civil terms and get along as schoolmates, if only because we'll be living together for the rest of our time at Hogwarts. Since that doesn't seem to be possible anymore though, how about we just go with the simplest solution?"

Hadrian surveys the room and smiles some more. "You ignore me and I’ll ignore you. You attack me and I'll retaliate. An eye for an eye, so to speak. Everybody just needs to mind their own business, and there won't be any problems. That's fair enough, don't you think?"

His gaze settles once more on Draco. "Since you're the only one who's said anything so far, I'll assume you speak for everyone in this dorm. Draco Malfoy, right? So then, do we understand each other now?"

Across from him, Draco shivers imperceptibly like a rabbit caught at the wrong end of a predator's line of sight, but he also swallows and nods and gingerly puts his wand away. It looks like it costs him, but - at least for now - he seems both too shocked and too afraid to try anything else.

"Great!" Hadrian says cheerfully before cocking his head as a thought occurs to him. "Oh, right, one more thing."

He lets his smile fall away. Lets his expression smooth over into marble. And then he lets his magic flare, lets the pressure of it roll across the room like the black merciless depths of a storm-tossed ocean, lets it eclipse them all like death come to call, and then he brings it crashing down, not most of it, not even half, because he hasn't forgotten that these are children, that they're still young, and they can learn, they can be better, and Hadrian doesn't actually want to traumatize them permanently.

But he also remembers Draco - his world's Draco - telling him once, in a fit of aggravated exasperation during one of those times when they'd devolved into insulting each other's House traits yet again because they still hadn't understood what made the other tick, but they had also reached a point in their friendship where they'd started trying to, and kept trying.

"Slytherins respect power," Draco had said, not for the first time, but then he'd also added, for the first time, and haltingly as if he hadn't known why he'd had to explain it at all, "How else are you going to know they're worth your time? Or I guess worth befriending, in your Gryffindor terms."

"You don't decide whether or not to make friends based on how powerful someone is."

"Slytherins don't have friends. I only said friend because you're a Gryffindor and you don't understand anything else."

"Fine, you don't decide whether or not to associate with every single person you come across in your life based on how powerful they are either."

"Why not?"

"Why would you??"

"How else would you know they're strong enough to stand with you? Or competent enough to protect themselves? Power is a good starting line. If they're powerful enough, then they won't be afraid to face your enemies with you, and you can trust them to be capable of keeping themselves safe without having to keep an eye on them every minute of the day. Only brainless Gryffindors prefer doing things like throwing themselves in the line of fire and dying dramatically for each other and calling that a win. Let me tell you something, Potter - it's not a victory when you're forced to suffer a loss. You haven't won anything if you're not around to enjoy the aftermath. So the best allies must be ones who are powerful enough to not only achieve their goals but also survive them."

"…"

"Well, I will grudgingly admit that I didn't put quite that much thought into it when I was younger, but who did? …It's what I believe now though. Did I finally get it through your thick skull this time, Potter?"

After that particular conversation, Hadrian had understood a little better, even if he hadn't entirely agreed with it all. But he hadn't forgotten a single word, and Draco was right— as they are, these kids definitely aren't thinking that deeply, but Hadrian thinks that the core of it at least is the same. Slytherins respect power. And he has power in spades, so at the very least, he can make them respect him.

Of course, if that also happens to make them afraid of him, then, well, he was never aiming to be their friend or even ally anyway. So long as they leave him alone, it's fine.

He brings his magic to bear, allows the weight of it to fall and fall and fall, and he watches dispassionately as Draco goes grey, as Crabbe and Goyle's knees buckle, as Zabini flinches back like he wants to melt into the walls, as Nott curls into himself and may or may not have stopped breathing.

Hadrian catches Draco's eye, and doesn't let him look away. "I have no betters. Do I make myself clear?"

He'd spent half his life being beaten down by the Dursleys, told over and over that he was worth nothing, that he didn’t deserve food or clothes or kindness, that he was a waste of space and better off dead. He'd spent a good chunk of his Hogwarts career obliviously dancing to Dumbledore's tune, and then some more of it knowingly dancing to it because what else could he do with a target on his back. He'd spent over twenty years shackled to Voldemort, to his parents' legacy, to a war that had loved him a whole lot more than he'd ever loved it. And he'd been Fate's everything since before he'd ever even been born.

Some days, he wonders if he even knows what freedom is anymore. Or if he's ever known at all.

But one thing he is sure of is that he will never passively tolerate anyone controlling what he can or cannot do ever again.

Draco whimpers something like agreement, like deference, like surrender, and- that's enough. Hadrian reels it all back, all his magic hidden away again, and in the dizzying wake of its abrupt disappearance, Draco collapses, barely catching himself and his dignity with the edge of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle do crash to the ground, while Zabini has to steady himself against his nightstand, and Nott sways like he might faint.

Too much, Hadrian thinks distantly, and tries to feel bad about it because he really hadn't meant to go that far, but his lines in the sand have also long since blurred away beneath a tide of blood and corpses.

Mostly, he just feels tired, and it has nothing to do with his displays of magic tonight.

He breathes. Turns. Grabs a towel and his underwear and pyjamas and pretends everything's fine. It is fine, now. He's gotten what he wanted. "It's getting late. I'll shower first. Won't be long."

And then he's exiting stage right, straight into the bathroom, and it's a relief to close the door behind him.

Of course, that sentiment is one that's shared by probably every single person in the room.

-0-0-0-

3.

Theo is awake before anyone else the next morning. Or at least he thinks he is because he usually is. But everybody's curtains are drawn, and after last night, he doubts anyone was able to sleep right away, if at all, with the exception of their new roommate.

Hadrian Evans. Great Merlin, where had this person even come from? Even just the memory of his magic - vast and endless and utterly uncompromising - pressing down on them like the sky had fallen on their heads, makes his hands want to shake all over again. For a long, suspended, suffocating moment that could've lasted an eternity, Theo could've sworn he was going to die last night. And the most terrifying thing is that he is absolutely certain that Evans hadn't even been trying that hard.

Evans had radiated enough raw power to force all of them to their knees if he'd really wanted to. But he'd held back. He'd only given them a glimpse, just enough to warn them off. The rest of his magic had been out of reach, but present. It was there, reined in and waiting, but the shape of it and the depth of it had felt… unfathomable, as if it had no limits.

And that doesn't even account for the spellwork he had done. Theo had recognized the Disarming Charm, but last he checked, the average Expelliarmus only deprived a wizard of their wand. A more powerful one might send the target flying and even knock them out, but he's never heard of one that can… threaten to disarm your opponent at your leisure and - if Theo wasn't mistaken - force the wand to forsake its owner. Everybody knows that that's always a possibility in a real duel; if you win and take your opponent's wand, then that wand might not work for its owner anymore. But most of the time, you have to mean it, you have to set out with the intent to do it, the buildup of magic in the duel itself gives that intent a foundation, and there has to be an actual possibly life-threatening conflict of interest between the parties too, a real enmity that even last night - however excessive the exchange - shouldn't have qualified. Squabbles between students just don't count. If it did, with the Disarming Charm being taught in school, there would be a lot more students in need of new wands. The only way Theo can rationalize it happening anyway is that Evans must've been strong enough to compel the wand itself to leave its owner.

Pity he hadn't gone through with it in the end. Evans is powerful, but he's also… Theo is hesitant to call him soft, but if it had been Malfoy, if it had been Blaise or even himself or pretty much any other Slytherin, they would've done it. He's unsure of why Evans hadn't.

And then there had been the thing with the quill. Theo can't even explain that, and he'd mulled it over for half the night. He has the… incidental fortune of occupying the bed closest to Evans', so as soon as Evans had ducked into the bathroom last night, and the others had been distracted with pulling themselves together and possibly trying not to wet themselves, Theo had chanced a swift peek into Evans' wastebasket.

It really had looked just like any other regular quill, one that'd been burnt completely black and missing most of its barbs, but it had been a quill. He'd been tempted to open Evans' desk drawer to check the other quills, but - with Evans' ultimatum still ringing in his ears - he hadn't been that suicidal, so he'd refrained. But from what he could recall, the pack it had come from had looked just like the mass-produced writing utensils one could find in any stationery shop in Diagon Alley.

Whatever he'd done though, he had made it look like child's play. A quill and a Disarming Charm, so fast that Theo could've blinked and missed it. Could someone like that really have remained in obscurity all this time? Evans had apparently been homeschooled up until now, and they haven't even attended their first class yet, but by anyone's definition, after last night, he can't claim to be anything less than a prodigy.

It's… unbelievable. And not even because of any of the blood purity ideals that Malfoy likes to preach about. Theo doesn't think much of muggleborns or halfbloods, but he also doesn't think much of most purebloods, so he's fairly certain it's not high society prejudices that's driving his disbelief. It's just… He's never met anyone - not even his father, and Merlin knows Theo's been afraid of him for as long as he can remember - as effortlessly powerful as Evans had shown himself to be, and he doesn't understand how nobody has heard even a whisper of a rumour of this boy before he'd arrived at Hogwarts.

Someone like him shouldn't exist. Or perhaps there has been one, and that had been how the Dark Lord had made so many people bow at his feet or cower in their homes, but Theo had never met him in person, and so all he has is Evans' example to draw from. And not a single witch or wizard whom Theo's ever met could compare.

Has Evans just been hiding himself? Maybe his family hid him before they deemed him ready to face the rest of the world, and he's certainly proven that he can hide it when he wants to. But what kind of family can bring up this kind of wizard? Evans is only fourteen. None of them had thought him anything special before he'd revealed exactly how wrong they were. And he probably wouldn't have done even that much if Malfoy hadn't immediately taken a go at him, always so obsessed with making sure everyone knows he sits at the top of the food chain.

Well, he certainly doesn't anymore, and if Theo hadn't been caught up in the confrontation last night just like everyone else, he would've been tempted to applaud the spectacle of Malfoy being taken down a peg or ten. Before Evans' arrival, Theo was the one Malfoy liked to take jabs at every few days, and it was only partly because he'd had a halfblood mother. The Notts could've been said to be respectably rich once upon a time, but after the war had ended, with his father's political clout being almost nonexistent and most of their extended relatives either dead or in Azkaban, they'd been easy pickings for the Aurors. His father had escaped prison time with the Imperius excuse and some bribes, but that hadn't prevented multiple raids on their home and a hefty list of fines that had left their vaults near-depleted. And what little fortune they have left is reserved almost entirely for Theo's father's alchemy obsession that's more often focused on illegal research topics than not, as well as his black market dealings, although neither of those at least is widely known, or who knows if they would even have their ancestral manor left after the Aurors were done with them?

Malfoy loved reminding him of almost every one of those things as often as he could, and the most absurd thing is that - more than being born from a halfblood mother or poverty or loss of prestige - Theo's pretty sure Malfoy's biggest reason for disliking Theo is because Theo had refused to follow him around like Crabbe and Goyle back in first year.

So here they are now, and after three years, Theo had more or less become inured, not to mention it wasn't as if Malfoy only bullied him, or even bullied him the most - nobody could top that list while Potter and Weasley were around to fight for first place on it - but it had still been annoying and stressful because Theo was the only one who had to share a dorm with him. Considering the Malfoys' standing in society however, all he could ever do was stay silent and bear with it.

Admittedly, he'd been a little happy when Evans had been sorted into Slytherin, because between Theo and an unknown halfblood-at-best with no allies and no significant family background to speak of, the perfect prey in every way, Malfoy would definitely enjoy targeting the latter more, and even if the blond ponce still came after Theo, it would at least take some of the pressure off of him.

Now… well. That will still probably pick back up sooner or later, but Theo resents it less when he thinks about how it will take at least a few weeks before Malfoy will be able to strut around again after last night's humiliation. And also…

He thinks again of last night, of how Evans had basically smacked Malfoy down like he was nothing more than an unruly upstart getting above himself, and of that quiet oath too - I have no betters - and it hadn't even been pride or arrogance or superiority, only stone-cold certain fact.

He thinks of the fear he'd felt, but behind that, beneath that, more than that, there had also been nothing less than a breathless, heady, wondrous sense of reverence that had settled itself behind his ribcage, in his lungs, in the sudden hungry swell of curiosity that he'd just barely managed to lock behind his teeth, and it had only grown stronger after a night of fitful sleep.

He wants to see that magic again. He wants to know what else Evans can do.

And most importantly, he wants to know if he can do it too.

-0-

Ten minutes later, Theo hears Evans pull his bed curtains back. Very cautiously, he twitches his own curtains open half an inch to watch Evans get up, stretching languidly and scrubbing a hand through his messy black hair before gathering up his toiletries and a change of clothes. Like this, he looks completely normal, nothing at all like someone who could flatten all five of his roommates with a thoughtless flex of his magic. Even his eyes are just green now, no longer glowing like the light of a Killing Curse.

Of course, then Evans waves a hand at his window curtains, which obediently sweep open in response, and… yes, why not? Wandless magic seems par for the course for Evans, even if Theo has only ever heard of a handful of seventh-years capable of some very basic wandless spells if they concentrate hard enough.

Evans leaves for the bathroom as if casual uses of wandless magic is an everyday occurrence for him, and only after the door has closed does Theo let himself relax.

Evans had never even glanced over, but somehow, Theo thinks the other boy had known he was being watched anyway. But he'd said nothing, hadn't even given any indication that he'd noticed, let alone minded. Theo still isn't sure why he'd let Malfoy off so easily yesterday - because on hindsight, when it came down to it, all Evans had really done was scare them and scare Malfoy most of all; despite the verbal abuse and even the Dark charm Malfoy had shot at him, Evans hadn't actually hurt any of them in return - and Theo doesn't get it but maybe part of it is just because Evans doesn't take offence easily.

It seems unwise to Theo to not at least dole out some injuries as a reminder when that offence had been as insolent as Malfoy's, but perhaps Evans has his own measure of such things. Besides, Malfoy's known to say worse. Theo's looking forward to what happens if Malfoy forgets himself and says something even more loathsome. It's not impossible. Malfoy has been unchallenged since he came to Hogwarts. He's used to saying and doing whatever he wants, even to the upper years and those outside his own House. Most people ignore him when they can and indulge him when they can't, or otherwise manage or placate him with their own methods, but the one thing no one has ever done is tell him no, tell him to stop and make it stick. Potter and Weasley tend to give as good as they get, what with how short their tempers are, but they're louder and more obvious about it, so they get caught more often, which just makes them even angrier, so it never actually feels like they win, even when Malfoy doesn't either. Certainly, no amount of lectures or point loss has managed to deflate his ego.

But now there's Hadrian Evans. Theo doesn't need a second demonstration to know that Malfoy is outclassed in every way, but funnily enough, Malfoy himself might need it.

Theo eyes the bathroom door for a moment longer before finally getting up himself. He's barely set his feet on the rug before Blaise - in the bed on Theo's other side - also whips open his curtains, looking far more alert than he ever has this early in the morning.

For several seconds, they stare at each other in silence. And then - because he isn't sure if the other three boys in the room are awake yet - Theo pitches his voice even lower than usual and says, "He said Malfoy spoke for us."

Blaise blinks twice, and then something like distaste curves up at one corner of his mouth. "I heard."

Theo nods. They're on the same page then. Neither of them is particularly keen on this opinion that Evans has regrettably formed, Theo because of obvious reasons, and Blaise because he's Blaise.

Blaise has always been strange. He's the type who gets along with everyone and gets along with no one. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone - biased Gryffindors aside - who would say a bad word about him, but they'd probably have to think a while if you asked them to describe something of personal significance about him too. It's not that he's average - he's never failed a class, and he's especially good at Potions - but for all that he can carry a conversation in a way that makes everyone feel comfortable and included, and he could probably talk rings around a politician without making them feel stupid, he also never lets anyone close enough to actually get to know him. He's approachable, but only when he wants you to approach him. He's generous with his smiles, but sometimes, it feels a little like he's laughing at you. He might say something condescending or spiteful to you one day, but he has the kind of charisma that makes you forget that the very next. People might call him friend and invite him over for a chat or a game of chess, but most don't make any attempts to go beyond that. And if you know what to look for, as Theo has learned to do, you would realize - Blaise views the world like it's one big boring joke, and his estimation of most of the people in it is probably somewhere around the level of dancing clowns.

Theo doesn't mind. The two of them aren't friends either. They're also not enemies though, and occasionally, they can be allies, but only when Blaise feels like it. Sometimes, the other boy will distract Malfoy from messing up Theo's potion in class or launching yet another diatribe on all of Theo's deficiencies, but Theo will never ask him to because he has nothing to repay Blaise with.

It works for them. Blaise does what Blaise wants, and even Malfoy can't control him. Theo is secretly envious of that— with the Zabinis' seat of power in Italy, it means they don't have that much clout in Britain, and yet nobody messes with Blaise, not even the few who don't buy into Blaise's charm or simply hate him because he's a Slytherin. Not even Malfoy messes with him, and even Theo can't tell if it's Malfoy's self-preservation instincts kicking in to ensure that he isn't about to go insulting someone with a black widow mother like Blaise's, or if Malfoy genuinely hasn't noticed that Blaise doesn't respect him at all no matter how pleasant his words can be. Honestly, when it comes to Malfoy, there's a decent chance of either option being true.

With all that in mind though, it's not a surprise that Blaise isn't pleased with being slotted in as one of Malfoy's lackeys, especially by someone as impressive - or, as Blaise might put it, entertaining - as Hadrian Evans has swiftly proved himself to be.

"It's fine," Blaise says next, rolling out of bed to get ready for the day. He's already regained his typical lazy slouch, as if he hadn't been just as terrified as the rest of them last night. His eyes slide to the bathroom, then away, unreadable but more focused than Theo's ever seen them. "We live in the same dorm, and we'll attend at least most of the same classes. He'll see soon enough that we don't share the same opinions as Malfoy."

Theo watches him dig into his wardrobe. "And then?"

"Then?" Blaise tips a more familiar look of knowing amusement at him. "Then you do what you want, and I'll do what I want, and at the very least, we'll have the good sense to not throw ourselves straight onto a hippogriff's talons like dear Draco."

Theo smothers a snort and rises to his feet. Neither he nor Blaise take Care of Magical Creatures, but everybody had heard of Malfoy's idiocy last year. The phrase "my father will hear about this!" had reached a record high by winter's end. Not much had come of it, not when Hagrid had had the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore championing him. Even Lucius Malfoy would - and had, more than once over the years - find it difficult to contend with the British wizarding world's vaunted war heroes when they join forces. In the end, Hagrid could continue teaching so long as he did it alongside a second professor hired by the school, and even the hippogriff got to live. Malfoy had not been happy, and he'd made sure everybody knew it too, but at least he'd also whined less about it once Slytherin House had learned to snigger about it where he wouldn't hear.

But 'throwing oneself onto a hippogriff's talons' had become rather popular vernacular ever since, subtle enough that even Malfoy couldn't call anyone out on using it without embarrassing himself, but funny to everyone who understood, and nobody could even say who'd started the phrase. Theo's money would be on Blaise though.

The bathroom is spelled so that nobody outside can hear anything when the door is shut, but they can hear the lock click open just fine, and almost in tandem, he and Blaise both immerse themselves in picking out their outfits for the day as if it's a task that requires every last bit of their attention.

Evans walks out. True to his word, he ignores them completely, neither greeting them nor sparing them a glance as he moves back to his section of the dorm. Theo watches him out of the corner of his eye as the boy folds his pyjamas away before proceeding to pack his bag. He catches a glimpse of an Ancient Runes textbook, and his mind abruptly flashes back to the quill. But… that can't be right.

Evans shuts his bag, pulls on his robes, and toes on his shoes. Like this, there's something vaguely familiar about him that Theo can't place right away, and the thought is gone again as Evans slings his bag over his shoulder and strides for the door.

He still doesn't look at any of them, and he's gone from the room a moment later. They might as well have been empty air.

Theo's fingers tighten around the shirt he's holding. Somehow, he-

-doesn't like it.

-0-

Malfoy gets up two minutes after Evans is gone, moving around with an exaggeratedly unaffected sort of poise that makes Theo want to roll his eyes. At least the blond doesn't try to make conversation until Crabbe and Goyle wake up as well.

Evans aside, Theo is the first out of the room, as per usual, although this time, Blaise accompanies him up to the common room and out of the Dungeon. It takes no time at all to arrive at the Great Hall, and this early, most of the four House tables are still empty of students, although more and more are gradually drifting in in groups of threes and fours.

Unlike the other Houses who like cramming into whatever space they see, Slytherins are more political about it. The end seats are left to the outcasts or first-years who don't know better yet, while the midway point of the table is typically reserved for the most influential students, such as those with the best grades or the largest range of social connections or the strongest family background, or some combination of the three. And everybody else arranges themselves between the two extremes accordingly. The only time that changes - from what Theo has heard - is when someone is so magically powerful that they can overwhelm everyone else. Then it doesn't matter what grades or connections or background they have because magic is respected most of all, although they would usually have some qualifications in those other areas. But either way, they would be given reigning place of pride in the middle with their chosen followers around them, and everybody else would sit where they're told to sit, regardless of their accomplishments.

Someone like that hasn't come along in fifty years though, not since the Dark Lord was still at Hogwarts.

So it's jarring to see Evans seated at the very end, furthest away from the High Table, with a book open in front of him and a steaming mug in one hand, but Theo supposes it shouldn't be. He's newly transferred in, and a halfblood besides, so he probably doesn't know about the traditional seating arrangement, and since it's still just the second day of school, it's not as if anybody else outside their dorm knows that Evans is anything but the unfortunate fourth-year with a muggle surname sorted into Slytherin, so he really can be considered an outcast.

Theo exchanges a look with Blaise before tentatively taking a seat at their usual spot a few feet away from the halfway point of the table. It doesn't feel right to… go over Evans' head like this, but it's not like they can really do anything about it at the moment. Theo in particular is technically sitting above his station, but his family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no matter how far it's fallen, and he gets decent grades in almost every class. He's also on friendly terms with Blaise, and the fact that he shares a dorm with Malfoy is a double-edged sword. Malfoy has the status to sit near the middle ever since he was a first-year, and it wouldn't look very good for him if he's seen completely spurning a Nott in his generation. So Theo is largely left alone so long as he looks like he's nominally part of Malfoy's group during mealtimes.

Theo spends the next five minutes sneaking sidelong glances down the table. Blaise does the same, and neither of them is obvious about it so nobody comes up to ask them any questions. Other Slytherins begin filing in, and more than one wrinkles their nose or sneers when they pass Evans, as if they've smelled something repulsive.

Theo has to make an effort not to wince every time it happens. Blaise watches with a shallow smirk hitched across his face and something cold and callous and thoroughly amused in his eyes.

By the time Malfoy - with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him - sits down across from them, about half the table is full, plates of breakfast have started appearing, and Evans still hasn't looked up from his reading.

Malfoy - much less subtle - shoots something sulky and resentful with just a dash of fear down the table and mutters, "Doesn't even know how to sit properly."

Theo really does roll his eyes this time, although he makes sure to do it down at his scone. Before anyone can say anything else though, Evans unexpectedly straightens, his attention finally lifting from his book. Malfoy immediately stiffens as well like he thinks Evans had heard him from all the way down the table, which Theo wouldn't put past Evans's ability but also doesn't think that Evans thinks that Malfoy is worth that effort to eavesdrop on.

Evans looks around, but not at any of the Slytherins. He cranes his head over one shoulder, seems to catch sight of whatever he's looking for, and gets up, shutting his book and tossing it back in his bag. Then he's making his way across the Hall, past the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, straight over to the Gryffindor table that's only partially filled at the moment but is also hosting the Golden Trio, who had just come down for breakfast.

 Evans stops a few feet away, and Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger turn to face him. What Theo can see of their expressions indicate that they're surprised and a little wary, but they also seem like they know each other. They converse about something, Weasley makes some exaggerated hand gestures, Granger smacks him, and then Evans says something else that makes the Gryffindors burst into laughter, startled but bright.

And then Evans moves forward and-

-sits down.

At the Gryffindor table.

Longbottom and Granger are smiling, and even Weasley - with his hatred for everything Slytherin - seems fine with it, going back to plating more food for himself while passing some sausages over to Evans.

In Theo's peripheral, Malfoy's face has lost so much colour that he could pass for a ghost. Theo can't tell if he's just that offended or if he's actually managed to comprehend the fact that he's already alienated possibly the most magically powerful student at Hogwarts from Slytherin House, to the point where that student doesn't even want to eat at the same table as them, and classes haven't even started yet.

Theo can't tell, nor does he care, but if he'd ever needed any more reasons to despise Draco Malfoy, this would be it.

He averts his gaze from Evans, even if the mere thought of him preferring a bunch of Gryffindors - and those Gryffindors at that; the only ones worse would be Potter's lot - over his own House is… grating. But staring isn't going to win Theo any favours and might just tick Evans off. Besides, there are plenty of others who have noticed a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindors, and they're staring enough for ten of him.

He starts on his breakfast. School has just begun. There's plenty more time in the future to observe Hadrian Evans.

-0-0-0-

4.

Within the space of a week, Theo is cautiously pleased to find that he shares all nine classes with Evans. The core subjects are mandatory of course, but in addition to Ancient Runes, Evans also takes Arithmancy, both of which Theo is also studying, and after three weeks, he gets a slightly more detailed picture of what Evans is capable of.

In class, Evans doesn't stand out, or at least not in a way most people would notice. He doesn't take the initiative to answer questions posed by the teachers, and his spells and potions aren't particularly dazzling when they're assigned practical classwork.

But every time a professor calls on him, Evans always answers correctly. Every time they have to practice a new spell, Evans doesn't clamour to be the first to show off, and he isn't the one who produces it with the most eye-catching burst of magic, but when he's asked to show his progress, he always does it exactly the way the teacher demonstrated it at the beginning of class. Even in Potions, all he does is work discreetly in the back corner on the Slytherin side of the room. He never finishes early, but he also never finishes late, never failing to turn in a textbook-perfect potion ten minutes before class ends, and a couple times, Theo catches Snape watching Evans with an inscrutable expression after the boy quietly hands in yet another flawless potion.

After three weeks, Theo can conclude that while Evans doesn't deliberately dumb himself down, and in fact is performing spectacularly across the board, he does it in such a reserved, inconspicuous manner that even most of the professors probably aren't going to notice until they've graded a good few months' worth of homework and tests.

He does it for every subject. Every single one, except Ancient Runes, and Theo is convinced that that's less because Evans didn't try, and more that… well, some brilliance just can't be hidden.

In the third week, when Babbling hands back their first assignment - Acceptables and Poors all around of course; some days, Theo isn't sure if he wants to strangle Babbling or himself, just to put himself out of the misery that is attempting to understand anything their Runes professor says - she holds Evans back at the end of class, and half the students snicker like they think he's in trouble or did so badly that even Babbling can't stand it, and it's the best joke they've ever seen. But two days later, some papers that Evans has left out on his desk while he's off doing something else, probably with his Gryffindor buddies, catch Theo's eye while he's on his way to his own desk. More specifically, the symbol of the Department of Magical Education stamped on them catches Theo's eye, and after some very hasty and very undignified neck-straining and squinting from a prudent five feet away, he more or less understands.

Babbling hadn't held Evans back because he was doing badly. Babbling had held him back because he was doing so good he would be sitting his Ancient Runes O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams on the twenty-third of October.

Three minutes after that revelation, Theo's still sitting somewhat dazed in his chair when Malfoy returns, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. The blond also spots the papers on Evans' desk and - after suffering day after day of, in Malfoy's increasingly belligerent opinion, being disgraced by Evans due to all the time he was spending with Gryffindors, and even three of the ones Malfoy hates most - practically lights up with a malicious sort of glee at the opportunity to get a little revenge.

He seems to have already forgotten that first night's lesson, and it hasn't even been a month yet. Sometimes, Theo is honestly baffled by Malfoy's Sorting into Slytherin. What ambition is there in a boy whose solution to everything in life is to fall back on his father and surname and family money? What cunning is there to speak of when he so often acts without even considering the option of leaving himself a way out, just in case his taunts and schemes backfire on him one day?

Or perhaps the real mystery is how he's managed to go this long without anyone telling him that the world won't always bend to his demands.

"O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams?" Malfoy says loudly as he wanders over to read the papers. He scoffs. "No matter how much magic he has, there's no way that's possible. He's just a fourth-year. And a halfblood! I bet he paid Babbling to sign him up for them. Everybody knows she's not all there so Evans wouldn't even have to pay her a lot to persuade her."

Theo flicks a glance at Blaise, who'd brought up the rear, a few seconds behind Malfoy, and had entered on near-inaudible footsteps in time to witness this latest snowballing disaster. The taller boy's lip curls, and his next words come out in such a nonchalant drawl that it takes a moment for Malfoy to register the bite of them, "Why would he do that though? He's not you."

Malfoy flushes an unflattering shade of red. "Zabini! That's not funny!"

Blaise's insults are always taken as jokes. Theo thinks that's the only way Malfoy can weather them, because he doesn't truly dare to cross Blaise, so even if he does know better, he still has to feign ignorance.

"It can't be possible," Malfoy repeats, turning back to the papers. "Otherwise, why hasn't he said anything about it? If it were me, I'd let everyone know! Obviously, he knows he'll fail, so he doesn't dare to spread it around."

Theo tries to wrap his mind around that logic, fails, and gives it up as a bad job.

"Then, why is he taking them?" Crabbe suddenly pipes up, blinking with a befuddled air in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Obviously, Crabbe, it's to impress the Boy Who Lived. You've seen how Evans is constantly fawning over Longbottom." And there's the jealousy leaking into his voice even as it strengthens as if he's gaining confidence in his conjecture the longer he speaks. "He's still just a vulgar halfblood with subpar upbringing after all. He needs political connections if he wants to make anything of himself in our world. And Longbottom's a soft touch, and an idiot besides at everything that isn't digging in the dirt. Just trying to take the exams is probably enough to make him think Evans is a genius."

He takes another step forward, almost hovering over the desk now, childish spite tarnishing his features. "Let's see what the rest of Slytherin thinks of this. We are in the same House so Evans should look for support from real purebloods. I'll help him out."

Malfoy reaches out, and Theo goes still, staring, avid and unblinking.

(Greedy.)

Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.

Malfoy's hand lands on the papers, and it's as if a miniature explosion takes place. There's no warning as the desk ignites with enough interlocked, interwoven, bloody intricate runes to send anyone reeling. It blankets the entire desk in layers of circles and lines and eye-watering spirals, before even those disappear in a blaze of brilliant silver light that pulses once before bursting outward and knocking Malfoy clean off his feet.

Malfoy screams as he's sent flying across the room in a tangle of flailing limbs and flapping robes. Coincidentally - or not? - he lands on his bed in a graceless upside-down heap, the bag he's still wearing smacks him in the face, and the momentum tumbles him straight over the far side of his bed and onto the floor with a final muffled thump that cuts Malfoy's shriek to a yelp.

The light disappears, along with the runes. The room goes eerily quiet, and for a long moment, nobody moves.

It's Blaise who reacts first.

He laughs.

It's enough to snap Malfoy out of his stupor. The blond scrambles to right himself, pushing to his feet, fury and humiliation writ large across his face as he opens his mouth to shout, "Shut up, Zabini! Wait until my father hears about this! Evans will regret-"

There's a clatter. The door opens.

Malfoy shuts up so fast Theo wouldn't be surprised if he bit his tongue.

Evans steps inside, and then stops. He looks around, looks at his desk, looks at a still dishevelled and increasingly pallid Malfoy, and then he shuts the door behind him and heaves a very deep sigh.

"Seriously?" He asks in rhetorical tones. "I just went to borrow a library book. I couldn't have been gone for more than thirty minutes."

Nobody says anything. Evans sighs again before striding over to his desk. He raises a hand and combs his fingers through the air— or perhaps something only he could see, and that's proven correct as a runic array shimmers into existence, swirling together before reshaping itself into-

-a memory.

Specifically, it's a replay of everything Malfoy had said and done as soon as he'd gotten within three feet of Evans' belongings, complete with sound and colour. It's basically a pensieve without the pensieve or the removal of memories to supply it.

Theo wants so badly that his teeth ache with the leashed desire to ask a million questions immediately.

Patience, he reminds himself.

"Hm," Evans says once the memory's run its course, and the runes wisp away once more. Theo is both surprised and not when the other boy proceeds to pull out his chair, sit down, and dig out his library book, clearly intent to continue his work.

Behind him, Malfoy seethes, and before he can think better of it, or he simply doesn't think, he barks out, "Do you think you can treat me this way, Evans? Do you know who my father is? When I tell him about this-"

"Tell him then," Evans interjects, leaning back to slant a cool look at Malfoy. "Tell him you tried to steal my things, and my wards tossed you onto your bed, and the only thing it really bruised was your ego. Or you can lie and make up something that would make you more of a victim, and big bad mudblood Hadrian Evans bullied you terribly. What's the worst that could happen? Expulsion?" He huffs a laugh, and as far as Theo can tell, the thread of mirth that laces the sound is astonishingly sincere. "Malfoy, I don't actually care. I don't need Hogwarts."

He really doesn't. Worse comes to worst, which other school would be daft enough to not scoop him up if they see what he can do with runes? And that's not even getting into everything else he can do. Any school would accept him in a heartbeat and then laugh themselves to tears if Lucius Malfoy actually managed to get him ejected from Britain's sphere of influence on some trumped up charges just because his son went crying to him. Besides, since Evans had been previously homeschooled, he could always just return to that as well.

Malfoy opens his mouth, then closes it, and he does that a couple times, eyes wide in his face like he's never met anyone who has stonewalled him this way, who has challenged his authority so directly, more than once, and yet remains utterly unintimidated and untouchable.

Evidently, he never has.

Evans regards him for a few seconds more before sighing once more. "I thought I was clear enough that first night, but apparently not. When I say 'attack', I don't just mean with a wand. All my things are off-limits unless I say otherwise, so if I were you, I would keep my hands to myself. You don't want to know what my wards will do to you if they sense intentions worse than just petty theft. I hope you won't forget again."

He holds Malfoy's faltering gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his books and papers. Malfoy stumbles back a step as if he's been physically released, and he looks like he wants to pitch a temper tantrum but also doesn't dare. In the end, he storms out of the room without even straightening his robes or smoothing back his hair, and nobody tries to stop him or go after him, not even Crabbe or Goyle, who've both retreated to their beds, shoulders hunched, almost bowed, angled almost in Evans' direction.

Evans is already poring over his library book though, quill in one hand, inkwell set out, fresh parchment beside it. It's clear he's done interacting with the lot of them.

Theo almost lets it go, as he has every other time he wants to speak to Evans, to ask him questions, to know. He's already biting his tongue and swallowing down the words and opening his bag to fish out his homework.

Except-

It's been three weeks. Theo can be patient when he has to be, but more and more, it's… starting to feel like he doesn't have to be. He's had an entire childhood's worth of practice at dissecting emotions, at looking at a person's face and words and actions and taking all of them into account to figure out how they really feel, if they're angry at him or upset with him, if they're about to lash out even when they're smiling, or if there's still time to appease them even if they look like they're about to go for their wand.

Evans is harder to read than most, but at the very least, Theo can tell that he doesn't get angry often. In fact, there's only ever been that one time, that first night, and even for most of that incident, Evans had only acted to secure his own safety in their dorm once it became clear that Malfoy wasn't going to leave him alone otherwise. None of it had been driven by rage, not even when he'd nearly drowned them in the undertow of his magic over that particular handful of words Malfoy had jeered at him. And ever since then, Evans hasn't done anything except go about his business while ignoring theirs. That went for the rest of Slytherin too, and even some students in other Houses who don't like the fact that he's a Slytherin. Sometimes, they make snide remarks, usually behind his back, sometimes within his hearing range, and to a man, every student in their House has openly shunned him since he went to sit with the Golden Trio that first breakfast, but Evans has never given them a second glance, or really even a first glance, not out of anger or embarrassment or distress, and certainly not out of any desire for them to accept him, which just seems to offend them even more. But Evans is simply… indifferent to it all.

 Most importantly, as much as Theo has been able to conclude, Evans isn't prone to violence. He always seems calm and easygoing when he's with the Golden Trio, and quiet the rest of the time. And from the very beginning, he's never done anything to harm any fellow Slytherins, not even Malfoy. Even his wards seem to have some kind of function worked into them that would rate the level of threat first and only respond with the same degree of damage.

Actually, not the same— if Malfoy had been caught taking another Slytherin's documents without permission, important or not, it wouldn't be too much even if they cursed his hands in return. They probably wouldn't, because it's Malfoy, and people are used to being more lenient with him, but normally, even Malfoy wouldn't do something that gauche anyway. No matter how much they've spoiled him, his parents have at least taught him pureblood etiquette. He's never even tried to rifle through Theo's belongings.

 Admittedly, Theo had committed a slight faux pas as well when his curiosity had prompted him to read those Ministry forms, even if they were laid out on Evans' desk - unintentionally seeing them in passing was fine but the polite thing to do would've been to keep walking - but at least he hadn't been stupid enough to get too close, let alone put a single finger on them. Malfoy really only has his own poor impulse control to blame for going too far yet again, and Theo has every right to judge him for it.

 Although since it was Evans, Malfoy had probably categorized him as someone who doesn't deserve a pureblood's courtesy.

Even then though, Evans hadn't retaliated with anything more than the ward equivalent of a watered down Knockback Jinx, which is basically a common prank amongst rowdier students. Malfoy's pride had - once again - been hurt, but nothing else, even when it would've been Evans' right. And he hadn't gotten angry this time either.

Of course, Theo isn't foolish enough to think Evans isn't capable of violence when he wants to be. If he's pushed far enough, Theo is certain that the other boy could and would inflict some significant damage that would at least end with a visit to the Hospital Wing. Perhaps it was his magic, the relentless weight of it that said it wouldn't hesitate to crush them if they proved themselves a real threat. Or perhaps it was Evans himself, who looks at Malfoy after each stunt like he's putting up with a recalcitrant child that he has to go easy on because said child is too young to know better, except the detachment in his gaze also says that he's weighing Malfoy's age on a scale and waiting for the day his youth will no longer be able to compensate for his actions.

Frankly, Theo hopes that day will come soon. But that's his pettiness talking, and Malfoy in general is none of his concern. What Theo really wants is to learn all those things for himself. Well, not all, he's more than self-aware enough to know he's nowhere near as powerful as Evans, but some of those things - the spellwork, the runes - surely those things can be taught to others even if they don't have incredible amounts of magic? Even if it's slow-going and difficult, Theo isn't afraid to work for it.

So long as he learns even just a little of what Evans knows - and he clearly knows so much, knows the things that can actually be useful in real life - then perhaps, one day, maybe even before he graduates Hogwarts… escaping his father won't be a fool's hope anymore. And if there's a chance that he can do that, then no matter how exorbitant the price Evans names, Theo would be willing to pay it, even if it takes him the rest of his life to honour the debt.

But nothing's going to happen if they're not even on speaking terms. It's been three weeks. Already three weeks. Only three weeks. Maybe it really is still too soon, but at the very least, Theo doesn't think Evans will do anything worse than say no.

 At his back, he can feel Blaise's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn around.

 "Is that-" His voice doesn't crack, thankfully, but it comes out croakier than normal, giving away his nervousness. He bites back the urge to hex himself and tries again. "Is that taught by the time we graduate?"

 Evans… doesn't react, doesn't even look up. For several tense and increasingly awkward seconds, Theo thinks maybe the other boy will just continue ignoring him, or maybe he even thinks Theo is speaking to one of the others, not him.

 But then he writes something down and flips a page of his book, and then he raises his head and shifts away from his desk to face Theo.

 It's a little daunting, to suddenly have that piercing bright green regard aimed straight at him, but there's also no hostility that Theo can see, and that settles some of his nerves.

 Evans looks at him, then frowns, then asks in return, blunt, but amazingly, willingly enough, "You mean the wards?"

 Theo nods carefully, making sure he doesn't look too eager or too demanding. Masters of their trades are always rightfully reticent about their knowledge and skills to anyone who isn't their own mentor or apprentice, unless they're a teacher. Evans may not be a master signed and sealed and authorized to practice, but nobody who can write the exams at fourteen can be considered an amateur.

 Evans shrugs. "I haven't exactly flipped through the Ancient Runes syllabus of every year so I can't really say. If it continues at the same pace as third-year and fourth-year though, then probably not. You'd maybe get to the point of basic wards, but not much more than that. Compound wards like these-" He raps his knuckles against his own desk. "-put crudely, requires the use of runic coils to weave together multiple basic arrays, on multiple levels, in varying sequential order depending on how multifaceted you want the wards to be. It's not that difficult once you start getting some practice in, but from what I hear, you guys don't even begin practical work until after your O.W.L., which… I don't really get, but maybe Hogwarts is big on theoretical learning. But yeah, at that rate, I don't see how you could be constructing something like this by graduation."

 Theo's head is spinning. He didn't understand… anything in that summary except perhaps a general idea of "basic arrays". It's rare for him to feel so stupid.

 Evans is still watching him, and he doesn't seem impatient for their exchange to be over, or irritated that it's taking place at all. He looks like he's waiting for Theo to reply, so Theo hurries on to keep the conversation afloat.

 "So you didn't learn Runes following the Hogwarts curriculum when you were homeschooled," He surmises. "Does that mean the standards here fall short of the international schools?"

 It wouldn't be the first time. Britain's educational requirements have been growing more and more lenient for years. Correspondingly, their elective options have also been reduced to four due to budget cuts and lack of interest in anything harder than petting animals and making up death predictions. Every year, more second-years choose to sign up for Care and Divination than they do Arithmancy or Runes. It's one reason why the number of incoming students has been gradually declining and consists of more muggleborns than purebloods. Foreign schools are strict about accepting any children outside of their designated countries, but those in Great Britain and Ireland who want better for their kids and can afford the higher prices tend to prefer sending them to one international school or another instead of Hogwarts.

 But Evans shakes his head. "I wouldn't know that either. I didn't really follow any official curriculum when I was learning." He pauses a beat, like he's thinking about how much to reveal, or even why he's revealing anything, but then he seems to decide it doesn't much matter. "The person who taught me was a bit… unconventional about it. He was a very good teacher, but he wasn't actually a teacher with the degree and whatever else you need to be a Ministry-approved professor, so he didn't really care about following some checklist of what a student attending a magical school was supposed to learn. Plus he was kind of a genius at runes. Ward-cracking and disassembly in particular since that's what he majored in - he was a Curse-Breaker - but he was pretty good at almost everything else too, which meant he found the basic stuff pretty boring. So when he taught me, and he realized I didn't have any trouble getting the foundations down, and I could mostly keep up even when he skipped ahead to more advanced stuff, he basically ended up just jumping between the subjects he liked most, filled in any gaps along the way, and gave me free rein to research whatever I found interesting. And whatever topic I picked was the one he lectured on, or helped me look up if it was one of the few areas he didn't know much about."

 His expression turns wry, if only for a moment. "Apparently though, according to Babbling, that means there's nothing left for Hogwarts to teach me. But I don't know how I would compare to students in other schools."

 He finishes and falls silent. It's the most he's said since that first night, and it's clear as day that whoever this Curse-Breaker tutor was, Evans respects him a great deal, great enough to ramble on about him to a roomful of near-strangers, and considering what he'd had a hand in molding Evans into, he deserves every bit of that respect too.

 Theo envies it. He is oft a creature of envy, and it hollows him out a little more every time it rears its head, but he's resigned to it. He wonders why Hogwarts can't have a teacher like Evans' instead of the whimsical mess that is Babbling, who can never get through a single class without her train of thought wandering away like an untrained dog off its leash.

 "Then," Theo continues, carefully neutral, carefully watching for any signs of displeasure on Evans' face. "Once you pass your exams, will you simply have an extra study period slot? Or will you be required to attend another elective?"

 Evans blinks at him. "The first, I think. I might see if it's possible to take an owl-distance university course or something, but spare time in my day isn't bad either."

 "Then," Theo forges on, watching as Evans's mouth twists a little, like he knows that this is what Theo has been aiming for from the beginning. Theo can't tell if he disapproves though - he doesn't think so - and it's too late to divert his course anyway. "What do you think about tutoring?"

 Evans cocks an eyebrow. He doesn't say anything for several anxiety-inducing seconds, just scrutinizing Theo with a face blank enough to rival Snape's when he bothers to stop sneering. The quill in Evans' hand taps-taps-taps against his desk before the boy swings around in his chair completely to face Theo.

 "Tutoring," He repeats. "You want me to tutor you in Ancient Runes?"

 And at least he doesn't sound derisive, nor does he put any particular emphasis on any part of that question. It does make it harder for Theo to gauge how he should respond though.

 "Yes," He confirms, because straightforward seems to be what Evans prefers. He thinks, briefly, of including Blaise, but he doesn't actually know if Blaise would like tutoring as well, and even if he does, Blaise can ask for himself. Theo isn't that charitable, and Blaise might even take offense if he tries to be.

 "I can compensate you for your time," He adds, because he's poor by pureblood standards, but not so poor that he can't afford decent education, especially with the nest egg he's been secretly building on the side since he turned eight and realized his inheritance was only going to get smaller at the rate his father was drawing from it for his… extracurriculars. His seven years at Hogwarts at least have already been paid for, robes and supplies and even some pocket money included, because even Silas Nott isn't going to let his son go into public at even more of a disadvantage than he already is. So as long as Evans doesn't ask for a huge sum of money, or even if he does, and he's willing to take part of that payment in favours, then Theo should have enough from his own funds to cover the cost.

 Evans leans back in his seat and doesn't say anything about payment. Instead, he looks almost puzzled as he asks, "Why do you need tutoring though? Even if you want to learn stuff like this," He motions at his desk. "I wouldn't be able to even start teaching you how until you got at least the basics down, and that's what Hogwarts teaches, so is there any point in getting more of the same lessons from me?"

 For a moment, even Theo can't come up with a way to say 'yes, because Babbling can't teach worth a damn, and I don't actually know how I passed last year but I definitely won't this year with the way her lectures keep getting lost somewhere between class and Atlantis every bloody week' but in more polite terms, if only because Evans might not appreciate anyone badmouthing her since she's obviously the one vouching for Evans' qualifications in order to let him take his exams so early.

 Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.

 "Have you seen the way Babbling teaches?" The other boy enquires in his usual lackadaisical tone, just aggrieved enough to sound invested, but mild enough to leech the provocation out of it. It also gives Blaise a foot in through the door, drawing Evans' attention to him without making it seem as if he's interrupting.

 Theo glances behind him at where Blaise is now lounging in his own desk chair, emptying his bag of textbooks and papers even as he glances over to meet Evans' gaze, and his expression has eased into an invitation to commiserate over Babbling's questionable teaching methods. All of it is designed to look casual and cordial, to keep this fragile first exchange lighthearted, if also full of a resigned sort of exasperation, funnelled together in order to lower Evans' guard.

 And it seems to work too, like it does with everyone Blaise turns his charms on. At the very least, the way Evans' mouth quirks in response looks reflexive enough to be genuine.

 "That's fair," Evans concedes, a wry sort of humour suffusing his voice. "She's not the best at… staying on topic."

 Theo has to suppress a snort, but something of it must show on his face anyway because Evans' eyes snap back to him, and a moment later, a quicksilver grin flits across the other's face, bright in a way that lights up his whole face, and perhaps Blaise will have to try harder after all because Theo realizes that this is what genuine looks like on Evans.

 "Okay, I get why you might want a tutor," Evans acknowledges. "But isn't there anyone better for that?"

 Theo blinks at him. "Better than someone who's ready to take his exams in a month?"

 Evans' eyebrows go up briefly, and something in his eyes sharpens. "No. Better than someone who's a halfblood orphan in Slytherin, stuck in a one-sided grudge-match with a pureblood brat who has all the maturity of a toddler and isn't going to be very happy if his friend starts hanging around the guy he wants to curse into the Hospital Wing."

 Orphan? is Theo's first thought, followed by, I wish Malfoy was around to hear that. But all of it is superseded by a defiance that bursts out of him before he can curb it, "We're not friends."

 Evans waves a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Slytherins don't have friends. What I mean is-"

 "No," Theo says, wincing internally at how he'd cut Evans off mid-sentence. "I mean, we aren't friends. Normally, we aren't even civil acquaintances most days."

 Evans eyes him for a long moment like he can hear all the things Theo isn't saying. Theo's pretty sure Evans doesn't know about his family's circumstances - How would he? Why would he even care to look it up? - but he seems to be able to glean at least the gist of it in a single glance because he seems to accept it easily enough, and the next thing he says is, "Alright, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still not going to be happy about it."

 "Good," Theo says, once again before he can stop himself, and with more relish than he should convey. Even if he's often thought that anything that made Malfoy unhappy was a good thing, he's certainly never expressed it out loud. He doesn't know what's come over him, only that there's something about the way Evans is watching him, patient and without judgement, that makes him… bolder than he normally would be.

 And since he's already opened his mouth, he might as well keep going.

 "So long as you're willing, I don't mind what other people might say," Theo says as firmly as he knows how to be. "I need to raise my grades for Ancient Runes before I take my OWLs next year or I'm never going to pass. I would appreciate any tutoring you can spare the time for." He hesitates, but only for a beat. "If you want, in addition to monetary compensation, I can also snub Malfoy at dinner somehow. And you would know it wouldn't just be some show we put on either. Malfoy doesn't have it in him to be humiliated in public, even as a stunt."

 It's far more outspoken and far more audacious than Theo is accustomed to being, and he can feel Blaise's eyes on him again. But he gets the impression that if he doesn't put his cards on the table - that he really does want to learn from Evans, that it's his main motivation, even if it isn't the only one - then Evans might think Theo is playing some kind of trick on him, possibly on Malfoy's orders, and that's the last thing Theo wants him to believe.

 Besides, this is also an opportunity. Theo had been resigned to living under Malfoy's temperamental rule for the duration of his Hogwarts career. It wasn't as if he wouldn't be doing more of the same as an adult, after all. Considering the difference in their social status, Theo would still have to bow his head, and jump when told to jump, and remain courteously - or at least forbearingly - deferential in front of Malfoy whenever they see each other. At least this more childish version at school is giving him plenty of practice for the future.

 But now, there is Hadrian Evans, whose existence no one had expected and no one thus far can control, who isn't afraid of Malfoy, whom Malfoy is afraid of instead, and Theo honestly can't see that changing. Of course, the real world is very different from some squabbles between teenagers, and Theo has only known Evans for less than a month. But… call it instinct. Even if one day the Malfoy family can really make it so that Evans can no longer live well in Britain, Theo gets the sense that the other boy would rather up and move to a different country than ever submit to anyone.

 People with inborn power like Evans won't bow. They don't know how to.

 And if Theo can get even a fraction of that protection that openly siding with Evans might earn him, then the choice is obvious. He's long known that he isn't powerful enough or ambitious enough or even brave enough to stand on his own. That in order to thrive, or even to simply live a satisfactory life, it would be best to choose someone's shadow to settle in. Preferably, that someone would be willing enough to leave Theo alone most of the time and wouldn't ask too much of him, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to get that from his father or Malfoy.

 Then, there's no point clinging to either of them. Before, there had been no other choices, and between his father and Malfoy, Malfoy was the better bet, though it wasn't as if the blond ponce could've gotten him out from under Silas Nott's thumb either. But at least being - loosely - affiliated with Malfoy would, in the future, offer Theo some protection from his father's obsessive tendencies. It wouldn't do for one of Malfoy's circle of acquaintances to disappear under mysterious circumstances after all.

 Now there's a new player on the field. Of course, Evans probably doesn't see himself as one, and wouldn't care even if he knew. But that doesn't change the fact that his shadow casts a long and looming line, and somehow, it feels more like a refuge than anyone else's Theo has ever come across. Evans might not be willing to protect him, if only because he would have to make himself known to do so, and if there's one thing Evans has shown over the past few weeks, it's that he much prefers staying in the background. But even if he isn't willing to protect Theo, at the very least, he can teach Theo how to protect himself. So, Theo might as well take his chances with Evans, and the first step in doing that is to make it very clear to all and sundry that he's throwing his lot in with the halfblood Slytherin transfer.

 He hadn't quite been prepared to go this far when he'd first decided to speak to Evans today, but doing things by half measures doesn't bode well for him either. Prevaricating or at least being vaguer about his intentions might leave him an extra hand to play, a way to retreat in case associating with Evans becomes too dangerous one day, but no one likes a fence-sitter.

 In Slytherin, every decision is a power play, whether it seems like it or not. An insignificant word or action might result in large consequences that aren't always obvious until the waves and ripples have settled. And Theo's never been much of a gambler, preferring safety over potential riches. But the things he can learn from Evans are too tempting to pass over. Put in plain terms, he's technically using Evans as a means to an end, which no one in Slytherin wouldn't approve of, but for a good chunk of this House, Evans' blood would definitely outweigh any usefulness he might have, especially since he hasn't publicly proven himself in any way at all. And the way he spends all his free time with Gryffindors hardly helps.

 Still, it's a risk Theo's willing to take. And now the Quaffle is in Evans' hands, and all that's left is to wait for his answer.

 Of course, if Evans says no, then Theo can only hope Blaise is feeling magnanimous today and won't go spreading this little story around. Then again, there's Crabbe and Goyle too, and they'll definitely tell Malfoy, so it will get out either way.

 Such is Slytherin, where the only shared secret you can trust to remain a secret is when all other parties are dead.

 In front of him, Evans only raises his eyebrows for a moment before amusement quirks one corner of his mouth. "Well you don't have to go that far."

 Theo can't tell if the other boy understands the implications of publicly cutting ties with Malfoy, but he's relieved to hear it anyway. He'd do it if it's a condition Evans sets, if only to alleviate any concerns Evans might have of being played, but it's not as if he wants to do it. He would happily see Malfoy humiliated any day of the week, but Theo is at heart an introverted person. Open confrontation of any kind will always make him uncomfortable.

 Evans studies him for a while longer as if weighing his sincerity. Eventually, he says, "I'm not opposed to tutoring. Actually, I'm already doing that for Hermione every Wednesday and Saturday. Adding one more doesn't make much of a difference. It's just that I don't love tutoring so much that I want to do it more than twice a week. So," He smiles, and this time, his expression is one of a sharp sort of curiosity. "If you want me to tutor you, then you'll have to be okay with Hermione. And I don't just mean tolerating her presence enough to sit at the same table as her. I mean if you say one bad word about her blood, I'll take that as an attack on me and react accordingly. Understand?"

 Theo blinks once, twice, digesting that ultimatum with something like disbelief because- "Is that all?" And then, because it couldn't possibly be that easy, he hastily tacks on, "How much would you like to be paid?"

 Evans blinks back at him, looking like he's re-evaluating Theo on the spot. Then he makes a dismissive gesture and says, "I'm not short on money. Also I don't make Hermione pay so it wouldn't be fair if I made you pay." He sits back with a finality that starts bringing an end to their conversation. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, 4-6pm in the library. I know we share all the same classes so that shouldn't be a problem for you. Showing up isn't mandatory, you can just come whenever you want, and I'll tutor you in whatever you need help with. My only condition is that you treat Hermione with basic respect. Of course," His mouth twists into a strange smile. "That goes for her too. And her friends if they happen to stop by."

 Theo has to suppress a grimace at that, but it's mostly out of reflexive distaste. Even if Weasley starts flinging insults, he's sure he's heard worse than anything a Gryffindor could come up with, and his tolerance is high, so it doesn't much matter whether Evans can prevent it or not. Actually, it's already pretty novel that he would try at all. This is by far the easiest and weirdest deal Theo has ever been offered, which only makes him that much more suspicious, but Evans also adds no other terms, so Theo is forced to conclude that this really is all Evans wants from him.

 The sheer unfairness of what each party is bringing to the table is jarring. Does Evans not understand what's happening here or is he seriously willing to offer up his time and knowledge on a silver platter at basically no cost?

 Part of Theo wants to ask again, to make sure Evans really doesn't want anything else, but since they've come to this point, even if Evans were to ask for something in the future, Theo would have no obligation to give it. It's admittedly somewhat uncomfortable, to receive so much in exchange for giving back so little when he wasn't even the one manipulating Evans towards this outcome, but at the same time, wouldn't he just be stupid if he keeps pushing the issue? Complaining about not having to spend any money or owe any favours seems rather counterproductive, and even though Theo is willing to pay for a chance like this, that doesn't mean he wants to if he doesn't have to. Of course, he supposes it isn't very honourable of him to not at least insist on some form of compensation, but that's why Theo isn't a Gryffindor.

 So then.

 "Very well, I agree to your terms," Theo says, letting himself relax a bit more when Evans' expression doesn't change. And because even a Slytherin should acknowledge genuine goodwill, he shoves past his own discomfort and manages, if a bit stiffly, "Thank you, Evans."

 Evans makes a face that's something left of embarrassed. "It's just tutoring, you don't have to be so formal. Besides, you're still the one who's going to have to put up with Malfoy pitching a fit once he finds out."

 Theo almost shrugs. That's not anything new. He might have to field some curses hurled his way once other Slytherins realize he's no longer under Malfoy's "protection" and is seen spending time with a halfblood, but it's not as if he has no way of protecting himself from most spells that a student can get away with using in public at Hogwarts. He already has a few family wards set up around his bed too, so Malfoy can't get to him while he's asleep, and the only time he spends in the Common Room is when he's crossing it to leave the Dungeon or return to his dorm, so his Housemates aren't likely to be able to corner him there either. So long as he's careful, he'll be fine.

 Blaise's voice cuts into his thoughts, speaking this time with the lightest touch of concern seeping out from behind a thin veil of indifference that would've fooled even Theo if Theo didn't know the way Blaise can change his approach like he's changing clothes depending on his assessment of the person he's talking to. "You sure you don't need to ask Granger first before letting a Slytherin join your tutoring sessions? She might not be too happy to have Theo there. And her friends definitely won't."

 Evans' attention shifts again, and as with Theo, his gaze is neither friendly nor hostile, but it's different all the same in a way Theo can't quite name. "Is that my problem?"

 The room is quiet for a beat.

 Evans smiles, careless, casual. "I'm the one doing the teaching. Who I teach should be up to me, shouldn't it?"

 Blaise stares, unblinking, hands finally gone still. "Aren't those Gryffindors your friends though?"

 "Sure," Evans agrees. "Still doesn't mean they get to tell me what to do just because they're biased against Slytherins." He shakes his head. "I doubt it'll be much of a problem though. Like you said, they're my friends, and aren't I a Slytherin too?"

 Nobody says what Theo is certain they're all thinking— that in many ways, Evans isn't anything like your average Slytherin.

 (And in others, Evans is the very epitome of one, but the Golden Trio probably doesn't know that, do they?)

 "Are you saying other Slytherins are welcome in your tutoring sessions then?" Blaise says next, and it's the most straightforward Theo has ever seen him, skipping at least three prevarications and five backhanded compliments that Theo could've sworn Blaise would normally include just because he doesn't know any other way to speak. Apparently not.

 Except Evans' response is to huff a breath that sounds like laughter, except not in any way they've heard before, not as amicable, and Theo sees Blaise's smile grow a little fixed.

 If they were in the business of distributing vices, then excessive hubris would undoubtedly go to Malfoy, but only because Blaise doesn't have the same reckless self-defeating habit of flaunting what he has everywhere and retaliating like a rabid lapdog the moment he feels slighted, the latter of which is helped along by the fact that he doesn't hold many people in high enough esteem for them to offend him. After all, you wouldn't get mad if a ghost or a goblin or even a house-elf - as unlikely as that is - is rude to you, would you? At most, you'd punish the latter and move along with your day. And for those who do register enough as people in Blaise's eyes, well, Blaise far prefers retaliating when the other party least expects it.

 It's the same now, in the way Blaise blinks twice rapidly but doesn't otherwise react. Of course, since this is Evans, he won't be able to retaliate later either, not with any kind of success, so it's doubly impressive that the other boy manages to keep his pride nailed down and tucked away.

 "You know," Evans says lazily, mirth or perhaps mockery gleaming in his eyes. "You could just ask. Take a leaf out of Theo's book; it wastes less time."

 Because even Blaise's straightforwardness needs to take a stroll or two around the block first, and apparently, Evans had caught onto that possibly since the first time Blaise had opened his mouth since this conversation began.

 Blaise's lips thin, but after a moment of no doubt weighing the pros and cons, he shrugs gracefully like it doesn't sting and asks, "Then, may I join your tutoring sessions, Evans? I would also appreciate some assistance with my Ancient Runes studies. Of course, I will abide by the terms you've set as well."

 Theo listens and wonders just how much self-control those three sentences took. Before today, he hadn't even known Blaise was capable of it, and the fact that he is, for this, actually says a lot more about his regard for Evans than Theo had realized even just a minute ago.

 At least Evans doesn't make it harder for Blaise than that.

 "Sure," The other boy acquiesces with the air of a predator sitting back on its haunches. "On your own head though."

 At this, a trace of a smirk - his real one, beatific in its cruelty, instead of his regular fit-for-public one - cuts across Blaise's face for the span of a heartbeat. "No problem."

 Evans levels another long look at him before shaking his head with another twist of a smile. "Okay then. We're all good now?" He looks from Blaise to Theo and even spares half a glance in Crabbe and Goyle's direction before nodding, satisfied. "Fantastic. Back to work for me."

 He spins back around to face his desk, reaching for his quill, and the rest of the day passes as usual, without another word traded between them, even when they all get up for dinner. Malfoy comes back shortly before that, stalking over to his section of the dorm with the mulish single-minded intensity of someone unwilling to even acknowledge Evans' existence, although that probably won't last once he finds out what Theo and Blaise have agreed to.

 Later, in private, Theo remarks to Blaise, "I didn't expect you to care so much about your Ancient Runes grades."

 Blaise slants an indecipherable look at him even as a shallow smile stretches the width of his mouth. "Who wouldn't care about their grades when someone's offering to help raise them for free?"

 It's a rhetorical question and answers approximately nothing, but Theo wasn't expecting anything of substance anyway.

 Besides, when it comes down to it, he supposes it's not so surprising that Blaise can also see which way the wind is blowing, hard enough to tell anyone with decent enough instincts that a major shift in power is imminent.

 And no one likes a fence-sitter.

 -0-0-0-

 5.

 Hadrian would like it to be known that he isn't quite sure how he's gotten to this point in his life.

 Well, that's a lie, he sort of knows, or at least he can pinpoint all the decisions that got him from Point A to Point B, but he supposes he just wasn't expecting a couple Slytherins whom he'd always assumed - even back in his original world - were just Malfoy's lackeys in school, to commit, and commit hard. They hadn't even participated in the war on either side, as far as he was aware— Nott had died relatively early on under mysterious circumstances, and Zabini had by all accounts returned to his home country. To Hadrian, they'd been little more than faces in the background that he'd never even exchanged five words with in total before coming to this world.

 But within the first week after they've asked to join his tutoring sessions, Nott and Zabini - Slytherin/Pureblood Rule Number Who-Knows-What: you can't use someone else's first name until you're invited to - make it really fucking obvious who they're… supporting? Have sided with? Because Slytherin is a nest of brewing factions and shifting alliances and political doublespeak and even a couple blood feuds, and this is precisely why Hadrian doesn't want anything to do with this House.

 Except apparently, agreeing to tutor Nott and Zabini means he's… joined the power struggle? Formed his own faction? Decided to vie for in-House supremacy and possible world domination? Who knows because Hadrian sure doesn't, and he's determined not to know, because surely if he just continues doing his own thing, it'll become clear sooner or later to all and sundry that he has no interest in fighting a bunch of schoolchildren over whatever they think he wants to fight for.

 It's just that he can't quite do that either, because not even three weeks after Nott and Zabini start joining him in the library every Wednesday and Saturday with a wary but accepting Hermione, something that translates to them moving their seats to sit with him in class and - when they can make it look natural, if still deliberate - walking with him in the hallways, the displeasure and animosity in Slytherin House reaches breaking point.

 It's not as if Hadrian hasn't already been the target of multiple hexes and curses from his own Housemates. He's a halfblood who hangs out with Gryffindors— it's to be expected. But so far, the spells have always been in the realm of reasonable, ones that might make him trip down the stairs or rip his bag or screw up his potion, and he's been able to block or avoid them all, so he'd figured it wasn't that big a deal. He'd put the fear of a Horntail in Malfoy early on because he has to live with the berk, and he doesn't much feel like returning after a long day of classes just to have to butt heads with him every single time. But he basically has no intersections with the rest of the House, so he just hasn't bothered paying attention to any of them.

 Then, perhaps rather suddenly, Nott and Zabini are there, not so much orbiting him as they do hover from afar. But they join his tutoring sessions, and they're serious about learning from him, listening earnestly and asking questions and even checking out the books he recommends they read if they have time. There are holes in even the most simple of their fundamental knowledge of Runes - Babbling, read a how-to book on teaching for Merlin's sake - so Hadrian has to more or less start from the ground up, as he had with Hermione, but both of them quickly prove themselves more than intelligent enough to keep up, and they're startling enthusiastic - by Slytherin standards - about everything he teaches them. Nott is more obvious - more ravenous - about it, but even Zabini - who likes to pretend he's only there for the novelty of it or something and therefore tends to play up a laidback sort of indifference - never fails to complete the optional exercises Hadrian writes up for them once a week.

 And outside of the tutoring sessions, it's like they've decided that being tutored by him means that he's now their new Malfoy or something. Not that Malfoy was their Malfoy before, if Hadrian had understood Nott correctly, but they'd at least acted like they were part of Malfoy's groupies. Now they've done a one-eighty, and it's not as if they follow him around all the time the way Crabbe and Goyle do with Malfoy, honestly if you don't count classroom and dorm room, they're not even around him half the time, especially Zabini, but when they are around, when they move their cauldrons next to his in Potions class despite working separately, when they go down to breakfast with him despite splitting off at the entrance, when they trail behind him back to the Slytherin Dungeon after a tutoring session, they're so damn conspicuous about it that they might as well be waving neon-bright signs above their heads.

 In contrast, they don't even sit next Malfoy during mealtimes anymore, much to the blond's increasing red-faced ire that vaguely resembles a Silenced teakettle on the brink of boiling over. But now they sit at the end of the Slytherin table, which Hadrian has gradually gathered that that's not a good thing, but he doesn't know how to fix it either, and neither Nott nor Zabini seems to mind.

 They also talk to him now, not often, not just in private, and not just about Runes, although that does still take up the majority of their conversation topics, if only because they don't know each other that well yet. But in their dorm or in class or in the library or in the halls, sometimes, Nott would say something completely normal, like whether or not he owns an owl or if he's noticed Snape's increasingly intent attention on him or if he's found the secret passageway connecting the Dungeons to the sixth floor yet because climbing six flights of moving stairs isn't what anyone would call a good time. Zabini on the other hand prefers sharing obscure gossip that even most of Slytherin isn't aware of, sordid little secrets like whose parent has a mistress (or three) on the side that will very likely cause an inheritance problem down the road, who killed a cousin over the summer due to jealousy but has done a decent enough job of covering it up as an accident because said cousin had been the heir apparent, and even who had to go to Pomfrey for an Abortion Charm just last week but will likely have to break her betrothal contract - and consequently have her magic bound, as per the terms of said contract - in the future anyway because there's no hiding the loss of her virginity from the olde family magicks no matter how frantically she searches for a way.

 To the former, Hadrian responds the way he would if Neville or Ron or Hermione were to ask him similar questions. To the latter, he says, "You have serious issues, Zabini."

 Nott never smiles, but his body language is a little less closed off and his eyes look a little less hunted with every random conversation they have. Zabini is almost always smiling, and in response to Hadrian's incredulity, he only laughs like it's the grandest joke he's ever heard.

 They grow on him, is the thing. One's probably abused at home, and the other is honestly half a psychopath already, and Hadrian shouldn't care but he's always had a bit of a soft spot for broken people, people who don't quite fit in no matter how well they fake it, people who remind him of himself. And the war he'd survived had only served to destroy what little compunctions he'd ever had about getting too close to dangerous things.

 So they grow on him, day by day, and half a month in, the other Slytherins apparently can't handle it anymore.

 Hadrian's just coming back from dinner. Nott and Zabini are with him, having joined him once he'd bid Neville, Ron, and Hermione goodnight. They're halfway across the common room when Hadrian catches movement in his peripheral, and he has half a second to decide what to do, to abort the reflex to go for his wand, to cancel the shield ward sparking at his fingertips, to pivot around on the spot and abruptly swing himself right into Nott's personal space, which means Nott immediately puts on the brakes, and - behind him - Zabini has to do the same.

 Hadrian senses more than feels the curse that grazes the back of his robes and splashes against the far wall between a pair of suspiciously empty armchairs in an area that's normally a popular hangout spot. There's no sound, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way it oozes a sickly viscous purple that puddles to the ground and eats straight through the carpet before finally evaporating into nothing.

 He doesn't turn his head, doesn't challenge anyone into a duel the way his hands are itching to do. Instead, even before the spell disappears, he's already asking, "Did you copy down the Potions assignment from today? I just remembered I forgot."

 In front of him, Nott's turned three shades whiter, and he's already pale-skinned to begin with, so he obviously recognizes the spell. Zabini clearly does as well if the way he's gone gargoyle-still is anything to go by.

 If they'd continued walking, that curse would've hit Nott right in the ribcage. His left ribcage.

 A beat of silence passes. Then Nott takes a breath and answers in a voice that doesn't waver but is even more inflectionless than usual. "Yes, I wrote it down. I can show you."

 "Cool, thanks, let's go."

 Nobody else speaks, nobody even moves, as Hadrian leads the way back to their dorm.

 Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle aren't back yet so they have the room to themselves. As soon as the door is shut, Nott almost slumps onto his bed, hands shaking. Zabini pulls out his chair to sit, a smile hooked at one corner of his mouth, but absolutely nothing about the rest of him says amusement.

 (Slytherins don't have friends, and Zabini doesn't seem to know how to have friends, but Nott's probably the closest to one that his disposition will ever allow.)

 Hadrian looks from Nott to Zabini and back, and then he asks, "Who was that boy? The one surrounded by that group by the fireplace."

 The one who'd fired the spell. Don't think just because a bunch of students were arranged in front of him that Hadrian had missed the way his arm had moved, the jab of a wand, the blossom of light at its tip before the curse had flown across the room. Did they think he was blind?

 Nott blinks up at him, features still pinched. It's Zabini who answers, soft as silk, "Malcolm Avery, seventh-year."

 Hadrian takes a moment to digest that, to press that face into his memory before filing it away for later. He focuses on his roommates again instead and presses on, "Has this sort of thing happened before?"

 Because even if they're spending time with him, Nott's an old pureblood name, isn't it? And Zabini is Zabini, and everybody's heard of his mother. Even if they're shunned a bit, jeered at a bit, even hexed a bit, any serious assaults should only be aimed at Hadrian, right?

 Well, apparently not. That curse earlier had been a much Darker cousin of the Bone-Vanishing Spell, a variation on the more public-friendly Bone-Breaking Curse. If Hadrian hadn't seen it coming, if he hadn't stopped Nott in time, that thing would've not only shattered the left half of Nott's ribcage but also stabbed the resulting fragments directly into the nearest organs before dissolving into the bloodstream as a lethal poison— in this case, it would've been the heart and a lung. Nott would've been dead in under a minute, drowning in his own blood in extreme pain, and it's a tossup if even Hadrian would've been able to save him.

 Zabini - unsurprisingly - shakes his head. For all that he doesn't have an old bloodline to rooted in Britain, he still has enough family clout to grant him a strong backing. And that's not counting his own means of protecting himself. Hadrian had actually gotten the feeling very early on, from the moment they'd had their first conversation, and he'd only been proven right as they'd gotten to know each other a little better— Zabini has all the best traits of a quintessential Slytherin. And thereby also all of the worst. Magic-wise, Hadrian can overpower him in a second, but that's why Zabini knows not to make an enemy of him, knows how to bend and stretch and profit while he's at it. He doesn't need anyone to protect him.

 Nott on the other hand doesn't reply right away, and when he does, it's an evasive, "Spells like that would be an instant expulsion from Hogwarts, especially coming from a Slytherin, and from a seventh-year, they'd go straight to Azkaban. There are portraits all over the school. I'm not stupid enough to wander into places where there aren't any."

 Hadrian aims a flat look at him. "That's not what I asked."

 Nott purses his lips and stares at his lap. Hadrian waits him out.

 "…They've tried cornering me," Nott finally admits, grudgingly, almost resentfully. "There's no avoiding a couple areas with no portraits. But they never used a curse this Dark before, and I've always been able to slip away."

 Hadrian swallows the first three things he wants to say, to shout, because at his core, he likes to think he has a long fuse, but when someone crosses his line in the sand, his temper has always been explosive and violent, which won't help here.

 Besides, hadn't he more or less told these two to handle the consequences of letting him tutor them on their own? Even if they weren't Slytherins and actually had the mind to reach out for help, they probably wouldn't have come to him after what he'd said, so he has no one to blame but himself and the fact that he'd underestimated just how deep some Slytherins' senseless hatred runs.

 So he breathes through his first instinct, his second, his third, and then he pushes off the desk he'd been leaning on in favour of pulling out parchment and ink and the appropriate books.

 "Alright, come here," He beckons, spreading everything out on his desk. "I'm gonna teach you a Fourfold Rebounder Ward so you can wear it on you from now on. The variation I'm thinking of has a chameleon element, so it'll be both strong enough to deflect a curse on the level of the one from earlier and also camouflage it when it's bounced back at whoever attacked you. It's based off of intent too, so it won't act up in a scuffle or a practice duel or something, the other person has to really want to harm you with deadly intent, so keep your guard up for other stuff, and honestly, this should just be for emergencies, you should still try to dodge it because it's not good to grow overly dependent on stuff like this. I'm confident the runes won't fail when I'm the one making it but your reflexes will get rusty if you get lazy. It's a bit- okay, a lot more difficult than anything you're learning right now, but I'll do most of the work, you just watch and provide the magic at the end, and once your foundation is a bit more stable and we can move ahead to more interesting things, I'll come back to this first so you'll be able to learn how to do this yourselves one day."

 A long silence follows. Hadrian looks up. Neither of his roommates has moved. "What's wrong?"

 Another few seconds tick by. It's Zabini who gets up first, an odd smile on his face, one that Hadrian's never seen before. But all he says is, "Nothing's wrong. I was just hoping if we waited a bit, Malfoy will get back in time to see what we're doing and finally keel over from high blood pressure."

 Hadrian snorts with laughter. "Get over here. If that really happened, we'd be the ones who'd have to waste time carrying him up to the Hospital Wing."

 Zabini's expression says that that wouldn't be his problem but he only smirks and saunters over to Hadrian's desk with his chair. When they both turn to look, Nott is already on his feet as well. He doesn't say anything, but he looks steadier, and he's watching Hadrian with a strange gleam in his eyes that makes them look almost feverish.

 They settle down around him, eager - by Slytherin standards - to learn in a way that reminds Hadrian exactly why he likes to teach.

 He gets to work, explaining each step even though he knows most of it is going over their heads. That's fine though; for now, these wards just need to protect them properly, and in the future, he'll teach them how to protect themselves.

 -0-

 Of course, things aren't over just like that, because Hadrian's temper is an explosive and violent beast, and the only things that's changed from when he was still a teenager is the fact that he's gotten a lot sneakier about it as an adult.

 They aren't friends. But Nott and Zabini are his roommates and his students and kids that he's starting to genuinely care about, and nobody gets to walk away scot-free after fucking with the people under Hadrian's care so long as he's still alive to do something about it.

 Malcolm Avery is seventeen anyway. That's an adult by any magical community's measure, which means Hadrian doesn't have to hold back.

 It takes a week. A week of slipping out after curfew and eavesdropping on conversations, of finding out what the seventh-year's next practical Potions class will be working on and scanning all of Avery's belongings to see what Dark spells he's been mucking about with, and finally of filching Avery's cauldron for an afternoon while he's in class and replacing it before he returns to his dorm.

 When it happens, Hadrian isn't even in school. Even if he were, it wouldn't matter because he'd made sure to time everything just right, and all the fourth-years - and most of the rest of the student body too - are already in the Great Hall waiting for lunch to be served. Seventh-year Potions is in the morning block, and Avery always goes overtime when there's a practical.

 Hadrian isn't even in school, sitting his Ancient Runes exams at the Ministry all day instead, but he certainly hears all about it when he gets back that evening.

 A few minutes before noon, a silver doe Patronus comes bounding up from the dungeons with an urgent summons for Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Nobody hears what is said, but the three staff members rush off even as the food begins to appear, and nobody hears from them again until half an hour later when whispers start going around about Healers from St. Mungo's being called and one Malcolm Avery being carried out the front doors on a stretcher because his condition is too unstable to be transported through the Floo. The professors don't really tell them anything except that there was a Potions accident, but - as these things do because the rumour mill at Hogwarts is healthier than ever, and there'd still been a few other seventh-years in class with Avery at the time - everyone more or less knows what happened anyway by the time afternoon classes start. Potions is cancelled for the rest of the day, because no one else was injured but Snape was too busy furiously documenting what had happened after running multiple diagnostic spells over the remains of Avery's cauldron to teach. Also, he has to submit said documentation and a Pensieve memory to the Aurors investigating the accident, which doesn't exactly say great things about his mood, so nobody's unhappy about being able to give Potions a miss.

 Apparently, Avery had been using his cauldron to make other potions - banned potions - in his dorm room. His roommates had been willing enough to keep mum and even give him a hand, and the book he'd been learning from had been found in his trunk. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to make anything too terrible yet, and his failed attempts hadn't managed to kill anyone, but he also hadn't cleaned his cauldron properly, and so there'd been a mess of residue potion and Dark magic clinging to the metal. Coincidentally, it had ended up reacting quite badly to the potion that the seventh-years were to work on that day, and the end result was a magnificent explosion that Snape had barely managed to protect himself and the other students from in the nick of time. There'd been no helping Avery who'd been standing right next to the unholy concoction.

 In the aftermath, the explosion had caused bad enough burns to disfigure Avery, but time and Healers would fix most if not all of that. Far more serious had been the potion damage to his body— the liquid had seeped right through his skin and disintegrated the majority of his left ribcage, and then it had gone on to chew even further, straight into his heart and left lung, an insidious venom that had dissolved into his bloodstream and sent him into convulsions that had wrung scream after agonized scream out of him until Pomfrey had deemed it safe enough to knock him out, although even then, his body wouldn't stop seizing from the pain.

 He'd still been alive when he'd been rushed out of the castle. Word has it that he's still alive now in St. Mungo's, except the Healers have no idea how to even begin treating him. Mixing multiple failed attempts at Dark potions, most of which even Avery's own roommates couldn't list all the names of or in which order he'd made them, together with one N.E.W.T.-level potion but in an explosion that had caused the maximum amount of entropy in the magic imbued into it— Merlin himself wouldn't be able to fix it with just a wave of his wand.

 By dinnertime, everybody is talking about it, and the professors have given up trying to stop them.

 (In truth, the outcome probably wouldn't have been quite so serious if Hadrian hadn't added a spell to amplify the toxicity and volatility of the residue in the cauldron, as well as several looping single-use runes to hide the volcanic buildup and also bind the whole thing to Avery alone so that it wouldn't have hurt anyone else even if Snape hadn't reacted in time. Without Hadrian's interference, it would've still exploded sooner or later, but Snape might've seen the danger signs in time to evacuate everyone from the classroom, and even if he didn't, the effects of the potion on Avery probably wouldn't have been so terrible.

 But then, that wouldn't have been enough. After all, lessons like these should stick.

 Avery will live, but he sure won't enjoy it.)

 It's almost ten by the time Hadrian gets back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Snape drops him off at the entrance before sweeping off to his own office in a dramatic billow of irritably flapping robes. He'd been at the Ministry for half the day just to piece together what had happened for them, but as Hadrian had ensured, the Potions master had been cleared of any negligence in the matter. The potion had very obviously shown no signs of exploding - three other experts had verified - and students are expected to take care of their own cauldrons from third-year onwards without the professor having to do weekly checks. Snape had been released by dinnertime, but he'd apparently decided to simply eat in the Ministry cafeteria and return with his student and Babbling, so here they are.

 Except-

 Just before Snape makes to leave, he turns and pins Hadrian with a long appraising look, clinical and penetrating. Hadrian stares back serenely, and maybe the fact that his mind is a steel trap wrapped around a battlefield would be highly suspect to anyone looking in, but he also doesn't feel so much as a brush of Legilimency from Snape whatsoever. The professor really is just looking at him.

 It's a strange new world.

 In the end, Snape doesn't say anything before walking off, and Hadrian is left to blink after him before letting himself into the common room.

 Everything goes eerily silent the moment everyone realizes he's back. Even if he hadn't said anything, someone - let's be real, it's Malfoy - had spread the news of Hadrian taking his Ancient Runes exams early, so pretty much everyone had known where he'd gone today. It was never a secret though so Hadrian hadn't cared, except when he steps into the room, it's very obvious that everybody is focused on him, and just as obvious that nobody is willing to make eye-contact with him.

 The younger students should've already retired for the night. At least everybody still in the common room, studying or playing chess or chatting with each other like any standard evening, are fifth-years and up, so most of these students had probably known - or had been told after the fact - exactly what that curse would've done to Theo Nott that day, and exactly who had been the one to attack him.

 And everybody knows what had happened to Avery today. More specifically, they know that what had happened to him today had been an almost perfect mirror of what he'd wanted to do to Nott one week ago. Nobody here believes in coincidences, and there's only so many people who would've had the motivation to orchestrate the entire accident down to the smallest detail.

 Most of them have known Nott and Zabini for at least a few years. Perhaps they're not on speaking terms, but they'd still been Housemates for a while. Something like this isn't really Nott's style, and while it is Zabini's, neither of them has the ability.

 The only real unknown is Hadrian Evans, and if they still can't put the pieces together at this point, they might as well sell their brains.

 The area by the fireplace, normally always occupied by Avery's group at this time, is empty today. Avery's at St. Mungo's, his roommates are in overnight lockup at the Ministry, and any who aren't but were part of Avery's faction are probably hiding up in their rooms. Nobody else has taken their seats, not even the students who usually do when Avery hasn't claimed it for the day.

 Hadrian walks towards the doorway leading to the boys' dormitory, and no one stops him. It feels like the entire room is holding their breaths. Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves until Hadrian is out of earshot.

 The dorm is likewise very quiet when Hadrian enters. Malfoy's bed curtains are already drawn, as are Crabbe's and Goyle's, but Zabini's are open, and he's lazing against the headboard with a book in his hands while Nott is still at his desk doing homework.

 They both look up as soon as the door swings open. Zabini stays on his bed but Nott even stands up as Hadrian shuts the door behind him. His whole frame is tense with a restless sort of energy, and he's staring at Hadrian with shining eyes. They both are, although in different ways. Zabini looks equal parts ecstatic and hungry, while Nott just looks the kind of deeply confused and deeply grateful that makes Hadrian want to set fire to someone, preferably whoever stitched this very expression into Nott's range of emotions out of the pieces they'd torn from him.

 Nobody says anything right away. Hadrian squints at them as he makes his way to his own bed, feeling vaguely perturbed, because he hadn't truly expected them to not connect what happened to Avery back to him, but he hadn't thought they would be so fixated on it either. Maybe a roundabout tactful thank-you from Nott, an offer of a favour at most. But not… this, whatever this is.

 He laments the fact that these two aren't more stupid when it comes to this sort of thing. Ron would be oblivious. Hermione would be determinedly oblivious. Neville… would actually react a bit like Nott, Ginny would react a lot like Zabini, Luna wouldn't react at all but she'd be extra cuddly for a few days, and gods, Hadrian needs saner friends.

 Not that these two are friends of course.

 He manages to get through a shower, brush his teeth, and climb into a bed before Nott is suddenly at his side, eyes still shining with something Hadrian really doesn't want to put a name to. Thankfully, he doesn't burst into any heartfelt speeches that would probably embarrass everyone within hearing range. Not so thankfully, he honest-to-fucking-Merlin bows, all archaic and meaningful in every way Hadrian has never learned and so doesn't understand, but even he can sense the weight and deference behind every word as Nott murmurs, "All of mine is yours, until the end of days. I would be honoured if you would call me Theo."

 "Jesus fucking Christ," Hadrian mutters, because sometimes wizarding swears just don't have enough oomph to encompass the never-ending circus trainwreck that is his life. He scrubs a hand over his face, peeks at Nott - at Theo - who's still halfway bent over, and of course, it's just his luck that he has no idea how to respond in the proper pureblood way.

 He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.

 "I'm a halfblood, I don't know how to respond appropriately," He says bluntly because he doesn't know what else to do. But he also flicks a Silencing Ward at Malfoy's bed, then at Crabbe's and Goyle's as well because you can never be too careful, and then he leans over and hauls Theo upright and catches his gaze and holds it, "I'll call you Theo if you call me Hadrian. One day, you'll be strong enough to take care of your enemies on your own, and you won't need anyone else to do it for you if you don't want them to, but until then, if all of you is mine, then your enemies are too, so I'll deal with them if it turns out that they still haven't learned after today. That makes us allies from now on though, which means we're equals, and that means you never, ever bow to anyone again. Not me, and not anybody else either. Understand?"

 Theo stares again, wide-eyed and lost and so terribly young, and sometimes, Hadrian wonders what it says about just how messed up the world is when broken kids can be bought so easily.

 Finally, almost dazedly, Theo gives some semblance of a nod.

 "Hadrian," He says, and something about him straightens, grows steel, settles.

 "Hadrian," He repeats and dips his head, not a bow, but respectful all the same, and his eyes are still bright with that unnamed creature, but at least he looks at Hadrian head-on. "Thank you. Goodnight."

 Hadrian sighs and figures that this is about the best he's going to get tonight. Maybe it'll dial back to normal in a few days. "Goodnight, Theo."

 Theo smiles, tiny, crooked, a little awkward. It's the first one Hadrian has ever seen from him, and that at least he can't be upset about.

 They can finally go to sleep though. Theo returns to his own bed, Zabini is still watching them both from his bed like they're his new favourite show, and Hadrian resolutely pretends he doesn't see anything else as he takes down the Silencing Wards before drawing his curtains, rolling over, and promptly making a sincere attempt at smothering himself with a pillow.

 His life.

-0-0-0-

End Notes: Ok wow so this got hella long and I didn't really get to all the stuff anon wanted whoops. Theo just… wouldn't stop thinking lmao, and also this AU has the potential to get so big so I ended up cramming in worldbuilding wherever I could. So unfortunately all you get is sort of a starting snapshot of where this is going and how Hadrian is going to turn out and a shitload of Theo's character. I kind of wanted to do him and Blaise's POV but I could only fit Theo, and I feel like getting Blaise through Theo's POV actually added to his character just as much as a personal POV would've. Anyway, those two are basically blank slates in canon so ofc I would pick them to write lolol.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Hi hi! Hope you’re doing well <3 i wanted to know if you could write a small drabble with infatuation!Sungchan? Love your work!

Hi hi! Hooooooly it's been a while since I wrote anything infatuation related so yeah let's do it! Thank you also!

~

Infatuation AU Pairing: Yandere!Sungchan x Reader TW: Mild unsettling themes Notes: This takes place quite some time after Sungchan's ending but you can definitely read this without reading that.

Sungchan had this awful habit, you'd noticed as of late. When something would stress him out he'd run straight to you, tightlipped and with his eyes looking everywhere but to you. He was a nervous wreck, you knew this for a while now, and you also knew that you were a safe space for him, such was obvious.

And now, when he came back home, he was doing that habit again. He was with you but he wasn't with you, just keeping himself busy while occasionally checking if you were behind him. Right now, he's seated at the kitchen table, a small brush in one of his hands and one of your bunnies in his other as he brushes through her fur. You'd known as soon as he walked through the door that something had happened, and you'd been waiting for him to come to you, but he hasn't yet.

"Sungchan?" You leaned over to look at him carefully. You could tell he was listening to you. "Sung, I think you're being too rough with her," you watched the bunny squirm in his hands and, immediately, Sungchan ceased his movements. The bunny wriggled out of his grasp and onto the table. Carefully, you approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Is everything alright? Did you want to talk about it?" Sungchan didn't respond, but it was obvious that he was thinking. He wasn't looking at you either, instead, he was fixated on the bunny, who was looking for a way off of the tabletop.

"Is it..." he finally speaks and you listened carefully. "Is it suffocating in here?" He asks you.

"Well, if it is, we can just open a window," you say.

"That's not what I mean," he continues to watch the bunny hop around.

"I mean, we haven't really been out since we moved," you chose your words carefully, you knew how he was with you leaving the apartment.

"We have, though," Sungchan's nails started to dig into the pads of his fingers. "You haven't, though," he says. Your breathing stilled for a moment. "Did you... did you want to go out sometime? Alone, I mean," he asks.

This was a test.

"It would be nice, but are you okay with that?" You asked him. The last time you went out alone...

It wasn't good, let's just leave it at that.

"Yeah, I am," he says. He picks up the bunny now and places her on the floor. "I think it would be good for both of us," he says. Your shoulders fell slowly. "Go ahead," he says. "But don't be out long, please," he adds quickly after.

"Yes, yeah, I'll be home before dark," you nodded and bent down slightly so you could see him at eye level. "I promise," you held your hand out and Sungchan linked your pinkies together.

"You promised."

"I did," you leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. "I'll be right back," you said to him, grabbing the keys on your way out, he waves goodbye to you and you did the same.

You waited until you were a block away to be sure, though. And once you were? A huge smile rose on your face. You didn't know when you'd have a chance to be out on your own. Finally, you thought...

Freedom.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville  

Infatuation: @lune1897 @beefchippp @nawkamoto @shiningstar-byulxx @treasuretaeil @jaesspresso @huangberryyy @yutafrita

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[n0v4t33z]

The Piece of Eight - Chapter of Provia

Pairings: Capt. Hongjoong X Female Reader , Crewmate San x Female Reader (Overall not chapter specific)

Genre: Pirate AU, Romance, historical-ish (not really), Action, Angst, Non-Idol AU

Word Count: 15.2k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Violence, Language, mentions of blood and gore, Highly Suggestive at times (This is a warning for the whole story overall)

Chapter specific: Some suggestive conversations?, straight up violence for some of it (HERE'S YOUR WARNING IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT KIND OF STUFF, SERIOUSLY), blood. Lots of it. ,cursing, war crimes , (let me know if there's anything else)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist ⚓ | Masterlist 🏴‍☠️

Author's Note💌: Again, this is a very dark and gory series so please keep that in mind. It had been a while since I last re read this chapter and tbh I did add alot of stuff but I also cut alot of stuff from it too mostly Hongjoong's background because I decided I'm going to use it in later chapters instead. So anyway this chapter is going to be the last one before I go back to The Syndicate. I'm hoping you enjoy this in the meanwhile. (there's a few minor mistakes but I'll fix them at a later time) - N🌙

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The cold crisp air gently blows making my hat almost fly off my head stepping out of the ship and onto the deck but just in time I’m able to hold it on my head. “God, why is it so cold?” Wooyoung laughs rubbing both my arms trying to warm me up his soft black hair tickling my cheek from him leaning in so close “I thought you said you liked cold climates?”

I turn my face back at him pushing his hands off of me “I do but this is too much” I point over at the railings of the ship “Look, it’s so cold there’s literal icicles here.” I glance over at the horizon and groan looking at the mountainous terrain.

Although beautiful, seeing the snowy tops of the mountains, makes for one very hard and treacherous trip which makes me all the more nervous.

San walks up behind me and pokes my sides causing me to jump “Stop! It’s cold! You’re making it worse, skirt chaser!” San chuckles and when I turn back to face him I see his now bright pink hair slightly blowing in the wind while giving me his signature dimpled smile. “How’d you know it was me?”

I scoff and roll my eyes at how obviously dumb his question was “What kind of dumb question is that? It’s obviously because you’re the only one who does that..” San stuffs his hands in his pockets stifling a laugh and gently nudges my arm with his elbow “I know, I just wanted to annoy you one last time before you go.” I give him a small smile and roll my eyes. He’s so annoying.

“Geez it’s so cold, I always forget how cold Provia is until I actually come back.” Yeosang steps out rubbing his hands together and shoving them in the pockets of his blazer, his now black hair peeking out from under the wide brim hat he happens to be wearing.

“You’ve been here before?” He nods “Yeah, once years ago before I joined Hongjoong and another not too long ago with Hongjoong.” I slightly raise my eyebrow “Wow, that’s nice. It’s my first time here and so far it’s beautiful but the climate is a bit questionable seeing how ruthless it looks”

I reach for my gun to make sure it was loaded and I have enough ammo then let out a long sigh “It’s time for me to go..” 

“Well in that case, I’ll see you later yeah? Take care." Yeosang gently pats my back while I put my gun back into my holster “Sure thing. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Wooyoung walks over to me and puts me in a playful headlock knocking my hat off my head “Wow you’re leaving already? So early?” I pick up my hat and poke his side. He lets out a loud yelp and he lets go of me gently patting my shoulder.

 “Yeah, Captain wanted to go early so we reach Provia before sunset.” Wooyoung hugs himself trying to keep warm putting is hands under his arms “I wouldn’t be surprised it’s because he wants you to kill someone.” I shrug “I don’t know he didn’t tell me but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case, he just told me to get ready and be well stocked with ammo. I honestly don’t have a very good feeling about this since it’s just me and the Captain.” 

San furrows his eyebrows resting his elbow against the railing of the ship “Just you and Hongjoong? Seonghwa isn’t going? Are you worried?” I let out a small laugh “Uh yeah, I’m worried about the Captain since it’s my first time out with him and Seonghwa won’t be coming along to guide me.”

San gives me a small smile “You’ve got this.” Wooyoung smirks and reaches over to squeeze my cheeks together with one hand “ See ya in a few days.” I grab his wrist and pull it away from my face “That hurts, you weasel!” Wooyoung turns away laughing holding on to the railing from laughing so hard.

I nudge Yeosang "So where's everyone else?" He looks over at the icy landscape and says "Ah they're asleep. Seonghwa fell asleep in Hongjoong's room, I know this because he told me he wasn't going to sleep in the crew chambers last night."

Yeosang leans in and lowers his voice to a mere whisper "Hongjoong couldn't sleep last night and so he stayed up with him." I nod with a slight frown on my face. Is Hongjoong okay? Is he scared? Nervous?

“Ready?” I jump seeing Hongjoong standing there his notable all black trench coat ensemble complete with leather gloves and his wide brim hat. He stands there waiting for me at the ramp lightly tapping his boot on the deck floor.

I wonder how long he’s been standing there, how odd he didn’t even say anything.

“Ah, yes Captain.” I turn back to Yeosang, Wooyoung and San waving goodbye “I’m going, see you guys! Tell the others I said goodbye!” I speed walk over to Hongjoong and we both walk down the ramp “Our horses should be over by the city, I'm not risking any of mine.” Hongjoong muttered.

I nod and stay quiet for a few moments until I decide to blurt out “So what exactly are we doing here?”  Hongjoong walks in silence resting his hand on the holster of his gun while he walks .

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into. I need to know how to protect you Captain. My apologies for not dropping it but I can't be left in the dark.” He chews on his bottom lip then he slowly exhales resulting in his frosty breath making an appearance “I’ll tell you when we get our horses.”

“Why?” I ask slightly confused as to why he's become so secretive all of a sudden. Honjoong turns in my direction and sternly utters “Don’t question me, just listen. and be quiet.”

I look ahead and roll my eyes. Why is he being like this? I’m literally stuck by his side what’s his deal? I need to know what’s coming to prepare for my surroundings. I can't go in blind.

After walking for a little bit we arrive at the small city by the shore and we pick up our horses. Once we get on them we ride in complete silence through the frosty forest until I break the silence once again “Okay tell me what we’re doing now and why we’re keeping it a secret.”

He looks over at me for a few seconds then looks forward again hiding his eyes with his hat “It’s not a secret I just need you to help me get rid of someone for me. I couldn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure if you’d back out on me considering it’s your first time and I didn’t tell anyone on the ship simply because I didn’t think it was necessary.. ”

“Okay, so who is it?” He looks ahead onto the terrain ahead of us and without hesitation he says “Jaques Norwood, He’s an executive officer of the Provian military. A very problematic one at that.”

Intrigued, I raise my eyebrow “How come?” He stays quiet for a few seconds staring off into the icy trees ahead of us then answers flatly “I'm not going into detail but he’s one of the reasons I lost everything I had at one point in my life. ”

Hm, not going into detail? I wonder if it's because it's painful for him to remember or maybe he just doesn't want to come off as vulnerable to someone he doesn't know very well. Which I understand.

Unable to form any words I hum softly and Hongjoong continues “So I need you to assist me. Seonghwa being a male unfortunately I won’t be able to get as close as I want to, but you being a fresh faced woman and all I’m almost positive he’ll give in pretty easily.”

Ew, he’s going to have me flirt with a possible disgusting old psycho? “As much as flirting with an old guy sounds funny, is the point of this to distract him?”

He briefly glances over at me “Correct.” I nod then I suggest “How about I do the job for you and you can just go back to the ship? Sounds easier. Safer.”  Hongjoong stays quiet almost like he was thinking whether to stay or leave “Don’t worry, I will not disclose to anyone who I’m working with.” I give him a reassuring smile and he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not letting you go alone.” I furrow my brows and slightly tilt my head “Why is that?” He shrugs “Because I said so.” I roll my eyes. Isn't he stubborn. “Captain you’re making this more complicated than it has to be. Go back. I promise you I’ll get rid of this person. I just need to know you’ll be safe.”

He abruptly stops his horse. Did I finally get through him? It’s like he only listens when I make it obvious I care for him. How funny. He turns to me and softly chuckles “You’re very kind y/n, but I think it’s best this remains a team effort.”

Definitely not looking forward to hanging out with that old fart, but what Hongjoong says goes. I nod in silence gently biting the inside of my lip, unfortunately worry must have been written all over my face because then Hongjoong follows up with “Don’t worry about that man, I know what you’re thinking and he won’t get the chance. I promise you nothing is going to happen, I just need you as a distraction.”

I glance over at him reassuringly “I trust you then..” He curves his lips into a smile and continues “Good, that means you and I will part ways here and we will see eachother again in the city. Meet me at the Twelve Rabbit tavern.”

My eyes slightly widen “Wait, why?” He checks behind us as if making sure that it was just us “They’ve got eyes everywhere, and if they see you arriving with me they’ll know we’re up to something and it will be nearly impossible to get close to Norwood. ”

“Okay, but how else are you going to get to the main city?” He points east “I’ll have to take the long route since I need to pick up a few things on one of the outer skirts of the main city but I promise I’ll be there. In the meanwhile try to blend in as much as possible.”

I look over at Hongjoong and Salute “Aye Captain!” He chuckles and begins to steer his horse east and I yell out “Take care!” From a distance I see him nodding in acknowledgement with a smile. I sit there for a few minutes watching him until I decide to begin heading towards the main city to make it in time.   

After a few hours of a quiet ride to Provia I eventually arrive to the gates. There is some sort of ceremony or a public event coming up judging from the amount of people coming in and out of the gates. Which is quite alot, unfortunately I have another problem which is that I don’t know what this Jaques Norwood looks like.

I tie my horse onto a tree close by the main gate, now the problem is sneaking in. Ironically I happen to see a merchant wheeling in hay and I pretend to walk behind the huge cart full. I turn around to look behind me and notice there were two merchants behind this one. Dammit.

“Hello gentlemen, can I get a quick favor?” I give them a curt smile and pull out a bag of golden coins slightly dangling it in front of me. Both men stare at me then the younger one with the fur hat speaks “Depends, how much is that?” I look down at the bag then shrug “About 600 crescents..Probably more though.” The man on the left with the hat looks at the older man to his right with the long beard and both nod in agreement. The man with the long beard then speaks “What do you need child?”

I look at the line very slowly moving ahead of us and put my hands together “Can you please let the guards know I’m guarding your cargo?” The man with the fur hat furrows his brows then I continue “I just need to sneak in and see my mother is all, please..”

The bearded man sympathetically looks at me and nods “Alright, go ahead as long as you fulfill your part of the deal.” 

I quickly retrieve my horse from the tree near the entrance and ride my horse to position it behind the two men’s cargo. Just as we get closer I happen to look down and notice my hourglass pin on full display. Shit.

I awkwardly pull my hair forward and I let out a sigh of relief. I almost fucked that up big time, I really am very nervous and it shows. God, I wish Seonghwa joined us. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so damn clueless.

By the time I snap out of my thoughts it’s our turn and the two guards up by the gate sported the same uniform which was a dark blue thick jacket lined with black fur and a black fur hat with flaps covering their ears. The crest of Provia being on the front part of the hat.

On one of their hips they had a long needle thin sword and one of them also carried some sort of big gun, not one that I recognized though, must be new. The one with the sword holds a notepad and the other one with he gun walks up to the men’s cargo and begins to carefully inspect “What is this?”

The older bearded man then responds “It’s fish sir, we’re fishermen.” The soldier hums and begins to walk towards the back in my direction. He looks at me and narrows his eyes suspiciously then says “Are you with the fishermen?” I nod “I am, I’m guarding their cargo.”

The soldier looks under the tarp of the wagon then looks back at me while the soldier behind him writes stuff down. “What’s with the clothes?” I shrug “It’s all I could find in Shiva that was warm.”

He looks over at the soldier behind him and both exchange odd looks then stares back at me for a good while until he harshly taps the wagon and yells “Clear!” The soldiers keeps their eyes on me until we finally move past them and into the city. I then ride ahead and thank the fishermen for their help and toss the coins over to them.

While I ride around I see all the different shops from butcher shops to weapon shops. Hm, maybe I’ll go in there later. My eye is immediately caught by a beautiful blood red dress.

So pretty, unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to wear that for my meeting with Jaques. Or can I? An evil smirk appears onto my features then I shake my head.

No, I can’t because I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off considering it’s my first time doing this I shouldn't get cocky. I glance over at the window again and look at the beautiful red dress. I feel like if I appeal to this man I can bring Hongjoong a memento I just have to be close enough to be able to do that. Fuck it, I’ll do it. Maybe it'll work.

I enter the store and the store owner greets me “Hi, what can I help you with today Miss?” I make sure my pin is hidden and smile “I’m looking for a nice dress and a hood. I heard this place makes really good ones.”

The store owner nods and walks out from behind the counter “I see, is it for the pinning ceremony of Jaques Norwood?” I brightly smile “Yes, that one...”

She leads me over to where alot of dresses were and none of them seemed to catch my eye because I kept thinking about the one on the window. “How much is the one on the window? The red one, it’s gorgeous.” She smiles “Oh, that’s a new one! That’s 2,800 Crescents, a cape is included with it which is why the price is a little steep ”

Oof she’s right a little steep but I have enough money on me so I’ll be fine. Got to look my best so I'm sure Hongjoong won't mind me spending it. “I’ll take it!” She clasps her hands together excitedly “I’ll package it for you right away Miss.” before I head over to the counter another red satin dress with puff sleeves catches my eye.

This will be my going out dress. After paying for both dresses and a beautiful black fur jacket I manage to get a room in the nearby tavern Hongjoong talked about. I drop off my new dresses and my other stuff off and head over to the bar area of the tavern.

Hmm I’ve never been to a tavern but I’ve heard about them from what my grandfather has told me I think I once heard him talk about him and his comrades getting a drink called the “corpse reviver” which sounded kind of scary now that I think about it.

As soon as I sit down a well dressed older man says  “Hello welcome to The Twelve Rabbit Tavern, is there anything that interests you?” I adjust myself in my seat “A corpse reviver please.”

His eyebrows slightly rise then gives me a soft smile “A hard day huh?” I shrug “Just exhausted.” He nods then hands me my drink, it looked a bit like lemonade. Maybe that’s why grandpa likes it so much “Please enjoy. Say, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you around here.”

I take a sip of my drink which surprised me how strong it was. I try my absolute hardest to keep a straight face “I’m just traveling.” The old man notices the awkward facial expression I make and says “Too strong?” I nod while my body shakes a bit involuntarily from how strong the drink was and the old man laughs “Don’t worry, I’ll get you something a little easier to drink.”

I don’t understand why my grandpa would drink something so disgusting it doesn’t even taste edible, then again I’ve never had alcohol in my entire life. Just never really interested me in all honesty why spend money on a disgusting drink when I can drink a delicious cup of coffee or juice.

The old man turns back to me and gives me a drink that was a beautiful orange gradient, it looked almost like a sunset which was almost too pretty to drink. “Here you go, this one should be much more palatable. I went easy on the liquor.” I take a drink then I nod and give him a smile “Thank you, it's perfect.”

The man begins to clean his work space with a rag “So, are you here for the pinning ceremony? It seems these days alot of people are arriving here for that. Including the Piece of Eight.” My heart stops and I look down and notice the hourglass pin on my chest was showing then I cover it with my hair.

“They’re looking for Kim Hongjoong as we speak. They know he’s here and they’re onto him.” My stomach drops and my hands get a bit clammy while the man continues “The thing is, that man is a man of the people. So if you need help with anything just let me know and I’ll be of assistance.”

This is still dangerous, what if he sells me out or something. What if he's lying? I’ll make sure to keep tabs on him. I take another sip of my drink “Did you meet with my Captain? Is this why you know we’re even here?” He shakes his head “No, but you’re proof they’re here. I can tell you’re very new to this so I’ll tell you now that the military will be very strict at the pinning ceremony. Which is why I suggest you fake being a socialite from a far away country to lift suspicion if you’re going to go. The more obscure the better.”

Ah, now I see why Hongjoong loves to be in good graces with the people. It makes things a hundred times easier, he’s smart. I look over at the other people in the tavern then look back at the old man “Why are you helping me?”

He dries a glass with another smaller rag and he smiles “Because thanks to your dear Captain my wife was able to get treatment and recover from a bad illness. So the least I should do is help you.” My eyebrows raise “Oh wow.”

I notice the old man looks behind me then says in an even lower voice than before “By the way, Jaques frequently visits the Ivory Bell tavern in the military district of Provia. You’ll know who he is when you see him, he sticks out like a sore thumb from the rest.”

He points at the pin on my chest and i turn around to see it was a Provian policeman then I carefully remove the pin and put it in my pocket and get up extending my hand “I’ll get going now, your name is?”

He smiles and shakes my hand “Theo.” I nod and hand him my money “I’ll see you later Theo.” I casually walk past the Provian Policeman and walk outside.

After a little while I find the Ivory Bell Tavern and of course it looks like something owned by the government, pretty pristine and expensive looking. As soon as I enter I notice a lot of military men, a few with some female companions.

By the bar chairs near the bartender I notice a man wearing a high ranking military uniform which was dark blue with his decorated medals and pins. His dirty blonde hair neatly put into a combover and icy blue eyes. He was wearing glasses that were silver rimmed and complimented his features very well which made him look very important and intimidating.

So, I’m guessing this is the guy I’m looking for. I sit down next to him and tell the bartender behind the counter “Hello, can I get a corpse reviver?” I need to look cool, luckily now I know what to expect. The blond man turns to me and smirks “You must have had a tough day.” I nod “Yeah, work has me like that unfortunately ”

  His eyebrow rises “Really? What’s your occupation?”  I turn to him and smile “I run my father’s tavern in Sheba. I’m here on a business trip.” He takes a drink from his amber colored drink “Maybe If I ever stop by Sheba I’ll stop by at your father’s hotel. What’s the name?”

The bartender brings me the dreaded lemonade colored drink “The Devil’s Cradle” I smirk and take a small sip only this time I manage to mask my disgust and manage to keep a straight face “Sounds very nice, I like the name. “ I trace my finger around the rim of the glass and smile “Yeah, it’s so nice you’ll sleep like a corpse or so that’s what our patrons have told us.”

He chuckles and extends his hand reaching for mine and gently kisses the back of my hand “How rude of me. I’m Jaques Norwood, what’s your name?” Got him. I push a strand of hair behind my ear and smile “Ah, so you’re the star of the pinning ceremony in a few days? I’m Scarlet Frost by the way, nice to meet you.”

He smirks, his blue eyes piercing into my soul. “You have such a beautiful name, something that’s very hard to forget.” I take a sip of my drink “Hard to forget indeed.” He pushes his glasses up “So are you being accompanied by anyone?”

I take another sip of my drink trying to concentrate on not spitting my drink out. I just hope I don't get drunk then I'll be fucked. “Nope, I’m here alone unfortunately. The attendant that usually accompanies me couldn’t make it this time due to his wife being in labor so I just told him I wouldn’t mind making the trip by myself.”

His cold blue eyes attentively look at me while holding onto his drink slightly making my hands a bit clammy. He was attentive to what I was saying but is he examining what I'm saying to see if it's credible?

“Father was hesitant about it at first but he eventually agreed since we kind of had no choice because he's sick.” He gives me a concerned look and says “Wow, you’re one brave woman to be traveling alone. Your father must be proud to have such a thoughtful daughter. Are you not afraid? Especially nowadays when the scum of the sea are constantly terrorizing and killing people”

I sigh and look down at my drink “I am a little bit but I’ve honestly have had my fair share of horrible people, so as scary as those seamen are it’s going to take alot more than sea bandits trying to rob me in order for me to stop helping my father.”

He chuckles “What a woman, you know. Not many are as hardworking and strong like you. Even so, part of me wants to protect you because you must have been through alot considering being a woman who travels alone isn’t usually very easy..”

I let my eyes lose focus and the man’s face turns into nothing but a blurred mess for a few seconds until I re focus my eyesight. God I feel weird, I think I'm getting drunk.. or tipsy?

"Oh Mr. Norwood you’re very kind-" he gives me a soft smile and says "I know, I'm coming off too strong. I'm very sorry about that Miss Frost, beautiful women are indeed one of my weaknesses."

“Alright, you win.” I giggle and gently pat his arm. He notices this and his ears slowly turn into a soft shade of pink. I think I've got him. That's good right?

After about an excruciating two hours pass by of sitting there and chatting with this man like my life depended on it I finish my drink and get up “I’m getting a little tired I think I should go, I’ll see you around Mr. Norwood.” He grabs my hand and gently pulls me back towards him “We should see each other again sometime? I really do enjoy your presence.” He gently strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. I smile, my ears turning red from the attention “Of course, I would love to meet you again.”

He brings my hand up to his lips and gently kisses the back of my hand and pulls out an invitation from his breast pocket and hands me the dark blue invitation with a silver wax seal on it the crest engraved in the seal being the Provian crest.

“Tomorrow at 2pm?” I nod pressing my lips into a slightly nervous smile and take the invitation. The man looks into my eyes with his icy blue eyes, the feeling being almost overwhelming knowing Hongjoong is not going to take this man lightly. “You need me to walk you back to your tavern? A pretty girl like you shouldn’t walk alone so late.”

I shake my head shyly covering my face with the invitation “Oh no, sir it’s okay I really don’t want to be a bother.” He gently rubs circles on the back of my hand ”Nonsense, a beautiful woman like you is no bother. The streets of Provia can be a bit frightening at night and it’s no place for a lady like you to be out.”

I smile and gently rest my free hand on his knee “I promise you no one will mess with me, I’ll head home quickly..” He nods understandingly without breaking eye contact “I understand but it still doesn’t take away that I’m a bit uncertain letting you go alone can I at least walk you halfway?”

Fuck.. Maybe I should agree just in case. I nod while I give him the sweetest smile that’s humanly possible. How was it this easy?  What the heck?! Maybe he knows!? “Of course Mr. Norwood.” He gives me a small and knowing smile almost like he was proud of himself. “Alright Miss Frost, let’s get you home so you can rest.” Jaques and I pay the bartender for my drink and step out.

Outside I look around to make sure no one weird was around since it was quite dark now. Jaques turns to me and reassuringly pats my shoulder “Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll protect you.” He takes my hand and laces his fingers in between mine. It’s been a while since someone’s been interested in me , let alone held my hand so it felt almost foreign to me seeing a man be so gentle.

Suddenly I get this strong feeling that I’m being watched, how odd. I didn’t see anyone following me this whole time so why do I feel like I’m being followed? Is it perhaps Hongjoong?

As soon as I hit the halfway mark to our destination I gently tug on the tall blue eyed man’s jacket and come to a halt “Well, it’s time for me to go Mr. Norwood.” He pushes a few strands of hair and gives me a worried look “Are you positive you don’t want me to walk you back pretty girl?” I nod “I’m positive, you should really get going anyways because you’ll need that rest for tomorrow.”

He silently nods for a few seconds “I’m looking forward to seeing you again Miss Frost. Goodnight.” I smirk “Yes, I as well Mr. Norwood have a good night.” He gently kisses the back of my hand again and watches me walk away. I could feel his eyes piercing into my back giving me slight goosebumps, once I turn around again to wave goodbye I force a smile.

In return a small smile paints the blonde man’s face and for some strange reason I get slightly nauseous so I turn away terrified I might make a weird facial expression that gives me away luckily I'm almost positive he didn't notice.

When I arrive back to the tavern and head up to my room I sit on the bed and think about what exactly this Jaques dude had to do with the Captain. What is his connection and why does he want him dead?

I know he told me he was a reason why he lost everything but what I want to know is what that reason is but I guess it’s all in due time since Jaques never mentioned anything regarding his work in the military no matter how many times I pressed on the matter. 

On the day of the ceremony I get ready for it by putting on the beautiful red puff sleeve red dress with a sweetheart neckline and some drop ruby earrings and necklace. For my hair I settle for a pretty updo with red crystal flowers all over my hair. When I look in the mirror I smile “I’ll get you that pretty little medal Captain, after all it's you who deserves it the most.”

The pinning ceremony is in the main city square theater and there was a lot of people there, most of them looked important which makes me even more uncomfortable because I think it’s best I steer clear of them. So I sit at the perfect distance to where I could still see but not be too close.

Unfortunately for me this is when I realize how boring these things are and how lucky I am to at least be sitting in here and not outside in the cold. After about an hour of them blabbing on and on about Mr. Norwood’s accomplishments I hear one thing that sticks out to me and it was “Social Cleansing of inmoral people in possession of an illegal artifact” How are they glorifying that?! This is a crime, why is this being celebrated? This has to be related to Hongjoong.

Now I know why he wants him dead, it’s because instead of him getting punished by the government he’s getting praised for what he’s done. I stare at Jaques and the General up on stage I look around notice how happy everyone is, this has to be a sick joke.

No way in hell are people actually encouraging “social cleansing” regardless of what they're in possession of, unless they’re just blindly following their beloved military “heroes” thinking evreything they do is a good thing or they just straight up have no clue what it means. 

Throughout the ceremony I stand there contemplating if I should end them right at this moment, regardless of the amount of military personnel in the area. My mind is stuck in an endless loop of contemplation and anger where I completely ignore what is being said on stage.

After the ceremony I notice Jaques taking pictures with his new medal with the general of the Provian military. This time I reach inside my purse and clutch onto the gun tightly. What’s really stopping me from killing both of them right now?

It would be so much easier but not satisfying enough, besides this is Hongjoong’s kill and he instructed me to be a distraction not kill. “Scarlet! Over here!”  I see Jaques walking towards me so I let go of the gun and leave it in my purse.

He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles “Wow, you look beautiful. Red really suits you very well.” I force a smile and smooth out my dress with my other free hand “Thank you Mr. Norwood.” He begins to pull me in the direction towards other military officers “Come meet my superiors.” I stop and shake my head “I want to be with you though not them, besides they kind of make me uncomfortable because of how i'mport they are. I don't want to accidentally say anything weird..”

He smiles and and gently caresses my cheek “You’re so cute, they can be intimidating at times but I understand. They make me quite uncomfortable too. We can be together for a little but then I have to go just for a bit because I have a meeting with the lieutenant colonel and the brigadier general about the Piece of Eight being here in Provia. Please do me a favor and hide if you see any of those nefarious pirates.”

I almost let out an audible gasp but manage to suppress it by covering my mouth. Hongjoong is here in Provia already? Is that why I felt like someone was watching me? Could it have been him? I slightly stutter “Pirates? Here in Provia?”

His face goes serious “Yeah, one of the Provian policemen saw Kim Hongjoong last night.” My heart stops and almost jumps out of my throat.  “What’s wrong Scarlet? You look pale?” I shake my head silently then he gently lifts my chin and looks into my eyes with those soulless blue eyes. I really hope Hongjoong is okay “I promise you’ll be okay. He won’t hurt you.” 

Of course not, but he'll hurt you. “Of course, I trust you. I’m just a bit spooked. I’ve heard many stories about him.” He presses his lips onto my forehead "You don't have to worry about him Scarlet dear, the military is looking for him as we speak. Not to mention you're with one of the best here in Provia so you're safe with me."

He pats my head and gently rubs his thumb on my cheeks “I’ve got to get going, I’ll see you at 8pm for the masquerade ball tonight okay?” I force a smile and nod “Of course, I’ll be there. Take care Mr. Norwood.” He gently kisses my forehead and makes his way in the direction of his superiors. I wait until I see Jaques completely out of sight and begin to walk back to the Twelve Rabbit.

When I arrive I look around for Theo and sit at the empty side of the bar where he walks over to me and just like every other time I meet him he politely greets me “Miss, hello. What would you like?” I sit there and think for a few seconds “Coffee?” He chuckles and turns towards the back “Right away.”

While he’s gone I make sure no one else sits near the bar area so when he comes back he gently sets the warm cup of coffee in front of me with a few cookies next to it. Immediately I lean in a little close to Theo “I need your help Theo.” He looks at me waiting for my request and I continue but this time in a lower voice than before “I found him, please cover for me once I leave tonight.”

He gives me a worried look and before he can say anything I shake my head “Don’t worry you won’t be in trouble. Just change the name of the log on my room, and if they ask you for a description throw them off by giving them one that looks nothing like me. That’s all, I’m sure the Captain will pay you for your help.”

The old man gives me a warm smile “There’s no need, don’t worry. I’ve already changed the name on your room’s log.” I smile and mouth the words “Thank you” I slide my payment onto the table and take a sip of my coffee and taking the cookies with me.

I need to see where this will all take place unfortunately I have to walk all the way back to the military district. It’s weird, that feeling of being watched comes back making me look around but to no avail I didn’t see anyone suspicious. Just Provian people minding their business.

This is honestly getting on my nerves now, this feeling is just unsettling because I don’t know if it’s an enemy or not. So when I walk past a sketchy alleyway someone pulls me by the wrist and covers my mouth pulling me towards them. I knew someone was following me.

My back rests against their chest so when my instant reflexes kick in I elbow and punch said person whom lets out a yelp and falls to the ground. I glance at the person and I realize it was Hongjoong. Oh shit. I gasp and help him up.

He was coughing quite hard and I felt bad so I kneel over and pat his back my hand gently resting on his chest “What the fuck are you doing here?! You told me to meet you at the Twelve Rabbit..”

He leans over and puts his hand over my mouth “Why were you at the ceremony?!” I give Hongjoong a surprised look then remove his hand from my face “So it was you following me?!” He shushes me and covers my mouth again “Just announce I’m here why don’t you, you never answered my question. Why were you at the ceremony? Did any of the military people see you?”

I stare at the ground for a bit then raise my gaze “Mr. Norwood invited me, and no, at least I don’t think so.. He tried to get me to meet them but I declined.” He looks at me shaking his head “If that’s the case why didn’t you kill him and the General? They were so close.” Did he-

“I’m sorry captain but there was too many people. Besides you said I was only the distraction, this is your kill and I respect it.” He sighs and rubs the side of his temples “Nobody was going to know where that bullet came from with that amount of people there but I understand you were obeying what I ordered you to do”

The surprise, I can’t ruin it. I bite the inside of my cheek and look down while he continues “I knew I should have come with you-” I put my hand over his lips and quiet him down “Look, go to the tavern and get everything ready for when we come back because after we do we’ll have to haul ass back to the ship. And I mean fast.”

 He furrows his eyebrows and slowly removes my hand from his face  “Wait you met Theo? He’s still there?” I nod and continue “Please Captain, help me in that sense I’ve already told Theo what to do I’m sure in the meanwhile it’ll give you time to catch up with him.” I give him a faint smile then I pull the invitation out of my purse and show it to Hongjoong.

“Look, I also have something I know will make you happy..” Hongjoong smirks and takes the invitation from my hands “How in the world did you get that?..” I smile and push a lock of my hair behind my ear “Mr. Norwood has a crush on yours truly.”

 Hongjoong lets out a quiet laugh gently patting my head “Thank you.” I nod and give him a two finger salute “No problem.” I start walking back to the main street out of the alleyway then glance back at Hongjoong “I’ll see you later Captain, please make it to the Twelve Rabbit safely. The military is looking for you as we speak.” 

Hongjoong’s response is simply a small smile which made me happy. Seeing him happy made me happy for some reason, I’m guessing this is how I know we’re close now. You’re happy when your friend is also happy and If I'm being honest I've always strived for my grandfather and father’s approval for as long as I can remember but I'm not going to lie when I admit that I really want Hongjoong’s approval too. I will go above and beyond so as not to disappoint him even if he has his questionable moments.

After inspecting the building where the masquerade will be held and looking at all the exits and hiding spots I head back to the Twelve Rabbit and head over to my room when I open the door I notice Hongjoong is laying on my bed his blazer was on the chair next to the desk in my room and his white dress shirt unbuttoned exposing his chest.

A glass of amber colored liquid on the nightstand next to my bed. Why is he half naked on my bed? Is he drunk? I check the time and it was 4:39 pm I don't want to wake him. He seemed to be enjoying his nap from the looks of it, I’m sure he’s exhausted. 

I'll just sit here and nap on the desk until it's time for me to get ready, besides I have plenty of time to spare. I take off my black fur jacket and sit on the chair where Hongjoong's blazer was hanging and lay my head down on my arms on the desk. Surprisingly it wasn't that uncomfortable so falling asleep was a piece of cake. 

I sleep for a while until I feel a gentle nudge followed by a whisper "y/n. Wake up, you should be getting ready for tonight." My eyes groggily flutter open and when I turn I notice Hongjoong leaning over with his hand on my shoulder and his shirt still undone giving me a full shot of his toned chest and abs looking at me with a small smile.

 I quietly hum and sit there waking myself up while he walks over to the bed and sits "Why didn't you sleep on the bed? You're going to mess your back up if you keep sleeping like that." I squint my eyes in slight annoyance. What kind of question is that? "Maybe because you were sleeping on my bed? That's weird if I sleep on it while you're sleeping on it too." 

His eyebrow rises "There's nothing wrong with it, you're just sleeping next to me." I roll my eyes and cross my arms in front of me "Yeah no, that makes me uncomfortable." Hongjoong chuckles "Fair enough, I respect that. Even then you should have woken me up and let me know you were going to rest a little bit." 

"I'm sorry Captain but I couldn't do that you looked exhausted, besides I think that’s going to be a regular occurrence of me sleeping on a chair while you sleep.. " He slightly tilts his head “How come?” I dryly laugh “What do you mean why? Because I’ll probably fall asleep while keeping watch sometimes.”

 He nods giving me a sullen smile and reaches over for his blazer and puts it on “Well, I’ll let you get ready. I’ll do that as well, I’ll meet you downstairs.” He walks over to the door and closes it behind him leaving me alone in the candle lit room.

I glance over at the pastel pink box with a white ribbon and pick it up gently setting it on the bed. After opening the box I gently pick up the dress and take in the beauty of the dress, this is probably going to be the first and last time I wear this gorgeous dress I'm afraid.

 After putting the dress on I stare at myself in the mirror and look at the beautiful dark red lace bodice beautifully accentuating the right places with the lace jeweled off the shoulder sleeves softly glistening in the soft candle light.

 I smile to myself and I let my hair down from my previous style and put my hair in a half up half down style with a hair stick in the shape of a dragon with red jewels as eyes. For shoes I settle with some black heeled ankle boots then I put on a black lace mask with red jewels and accents. Lastly I put on the beautiful red cape over my dress, the inside being lined with black fur making it very warm.

 After I head downstairs to the bar area to bid goodbye to Theo. I walk towards the bar area and see Hongjoong and Theo were talking, it wasn’t until Theo stays silent that Hongjoong turns and his lips slightly part. His expression is that of being in complete shock for a few seconds then he composes himself and clears his throat and stares at me waiting for me to say something.

 I look at both Theo and Hongjoong “I’ll be going now.. “ Theo smiles and says “Good luck Miss y/n. There’s a carriage outside waiting, Sir Hongjoong paid for it.” I slightly raise my eyebrows then Hongjoong says “I’ll catch up to you, arriving with you might be dangerous..” I nod and walk outside realizing there was indeed a black carriage with a beautiful black and white spotted horse.

 Once I’m helped into the carriage and I arrive at the location of the ball it was a complete 180 from earlier in the day and it looked gorgeous. Beautiful lights and decorations adorning the place making it look unreal.

 Straight out of a fairytale that mom and grandma used to tell me. When I step out of the carriage I show the guards my invitation, Immediately after entering I’m greeted with Jaques pulling me into his arms into a tight hug “Miss Frost, you’re looking gorgeous tonight. Aren’t you cold? You poor thing..”

I pull back and notice he was wearing an all black ensemble with a white half mask covering the right side of his face, despite the smile on his face his eyes still as soulless as before. It was honestly kind of scary in a way. “I am a little bit but Thank you Mr. Norwood you’re looking very handsome yourself.” 

He takes my hand and gently plants a kiss on my knuckles, and leads me inside the ball. At the entrance a military employee takes my cape and puts it in the back. I quickly glance over at Jaques and say worriedly “He took my cape..” Jaques chuckles and removes his coat handing it over to the military employee “No worries, they’re going to keep it safe for you they’re not keeping it.”

 I slowly nod feeling slightly embarrassed “Ah, I’m sorry I wasn’t aware.” Jaques gently kisses my temple and smiles “You’re so precious..” Way to make it known you’re that poor you don’t even know customs of the nobles and higher ups. 

I glance inside the huge ballroom and If I thought the outside looked gorgeous then the inside was immaculate because everything was perfect from the way the chandeliers glimmered in the light to the beautiful reflective marble floor. Never in my life did I think I’d ever experience something like this, a poor nobody from Eledonia feeling like a princess seems unreal but alas it wasn’t. 

Unfortunately it was something that’s brief and probably a once in a lifetime opportunity. The guests seemed to be either nobles or high ranking military officers which made things much scarier considering I’m not used to being in such formal situations. We walk past a few women who were whispering amongst themselves while staring directly at me almost like they were wondering who on earth I was. Unmoved by this action Jaques leads me into the dancefloor and smiles “Would you be so kind as to take this dance Miss Frost?”

 I curve my lips into a timid smile “I’d Love to” He slithers his hand behind my back and pulls me close and we dance a few songs together, the whole time I take small glances behind him to see if Hongjoong would show up. “You seem to be looking around quite a bit, are you looking for someone in particular?”

 Oh shit. He’s getting suspicious. “Oh no, I’m just still in shock from how beautiful this place is.” He looks around himself and nods “Ah, I figure you’ve never been to parties of this caliber?” I nod “Yes, this is my first time. I wish my father was here so he’d be able to enjoy a party like this too.”

 Suddenly from behind Jaques I see a man dressed in a white ensemble with beautiful golden embroidery, his hair that familiar shade of unnatural blonde pushed back. The mask he wears covers his eyes but very delicately accentuates his eye shape with the delicate placement and bordering of pearls along the mask, while a white fluffy feather adorns the top corner of the mask.

 With him he carries a white cane, the handle being some kind of sharp beaked bird. Suddenly it dawns on me, this is Hongjoong. His hair, the clothes, the confidence he carries himself with, he’s here. Hongjoong looks around for a little until he spots me, his gaze locks onto mine and smirks. 

By now Mr. Norwood notices my silence and leans in and whispers “Do you know him?” those words make my stomach drop but I try to play it off “What do you mean?” He chuckles while we dance “You seem to be looking at him almost like you know him,“ 

I nervously laugh and shake my head “Oh no such thing Mr. Norwood. I’m just admiring his ensemble, it’s very peculiar.” He smirks and gently kisses my forehead “I’m sorry I get a bit jealous, you’re just so gorgeous I don’t want you looking at anyone else but me...” My eyes look around for Hongjoong once again but to no avail he was gone. Where is he? This man touching me is really freaking me out now. Jaques looks deep into my eyes with his icy blue eyes “How about we go somewhere more private?” A knot grows in my throat and I nod pressing my lips into a forced smile. 

He gently pulls me away from the dancefloor and down a hallway leading to a beautiful courtyard in the back. We walk down a stone path to a soft ivory colored gazebo with beautiful thorned red flowers blooming alongside the entrance. It’s cold, how are those flowers blooming? I’ve never seen something like this before. We both look out from the gazebo and into the beautiful garden of similar red flowers being illuminated by the moon.

 The sight was to die for unfortunately Jaques had other things in mind. “Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” I turn to meet his empty blue ones and a small smirk grows onto his features then he leans in and pulls me into a kiss, only it felt like it was eternity before he pulled away. Gross, I feel sick..

“You know a Provian officer saw you talking to Kim Hongjoong by an alleyway earlier today. He said you looked very well acquainted.” Oh no. He knows, he knows! What do I say? Do I feign innocent? Is this why he lured me outside? He’s going to kill me isn’t he? “Kim Hongjoong was recently seen with unnatural blonde hair...”

 He gently puts his hand to cup my cheek and continues “Just like that man in the white ensemble you were looking at. It’s him isn’t it? Your Captain?” I thickly swallow and shake my head “Mr. Norwood what-” The man interjects while holding my face in his hand “It is isn’t it? Tell me.” I shake my head, trying to swallow the knot in my throat. 

He stands there staring at me waiting for me to say something until I muster up the courage to finally speak “Fine, you’ve caught me.” I gently run my hands up his chest, this causes his hand to slowly tighten “That doesn’t mean that I can’t like you though right? Or is that forbidden too?”

 His eyebrow rises in amusement “You’re telling me you actually like me or is this bluff so that you get away with it.” I try to shake my head feigning innocence “No, I mean it I do like you.” he loosens his grip again and gently strokes my cheek with his thumb “Such a beautiful thing…”

  He tilts my head back slightly and leans in only mere centimeters in front of my face and continues “What a shame you have friends who are not so nice.” Okay, why is he looking at me like that? I bite the inside of my lip and close my eyes until a familiar voice echoes in our direction, Hongjoong. 

 “Who says we’re not nice? Last time I checked all the money we robbed from Chesan was returned to their rightful owners, the people.” I hear the cocking of a pistol and turn to see Hongjoong pointing it at Jaques. Immediately without a second thought Jaques puts his arm around my throat pulling my back onto his chest.

 I remove my hair pin and aim to stab him in the neck only for him to tightly grab my hand re directing the pin into my shoulder causing me to let out a pained gasp knocking me to the ground in the process immediately afterwards Hongjoong shoots him in the stomach twice knocking him on his back. “y/n, are you okay?!” I nod reassuring him and he walks over to Jaques and stands above him pointing his gun directly over his face. 

In the distance we hear the guards making their way to the courtyard causing Hongjoong to grumble under his breath “You’re under my mercy now, unfortunately I don’t have as much time as I would like because of your big mouth.” I glance over at the guards. Oh no, this is definitely not how I envisioned any of this going. 

I get up and pull the pin out from my shoulder and grunt in pain “Captain, I’ll take care of this.” He nods and I run towards a hallway leading to a courtyard. One of the higher ranking guards spots me and I hide behind a bush in the courtyard while says through his teeth “Find her! She went into the bushes” 

LIttle does he know he fucked up asking his men to look for me. I see him walk around the courtyard and says “Here kitty, kitty” He makes mocking cat noises then I grab a pebble and throw it at the bush opposite of me. He hears this and walks back with his back facing directly towards me getting on his knee to check if I’m behind the bush. I smirk and take out a small blade from the leg holster next to my gun. 

I walk behind him and cover his mouth putting my blade on his neck then I whisper “You make a noise, I’ll turn you into my personal meat shield” I know he’s going to try something funny so with ease I slit his throat and let him fall back against the soft grass. He clutches his neck and chokes on his own blood.

From a distance I hear noises of struggle in the distance and realize it was Jaques and Hongjoong possibly getting into a brawl. I whistle causing the other guards to run in my direction, in the meanwhile I load my gun. 

Right when I see a few of them are in one spot I pop up from behind the bush and shoot a few of the guards dead. I look around for a small ledge to climb on to try and do an aerial attack. Once I climb the side ledge of the building via a small ladder on the side I start reloading my gun whilst avoiding the ricocheting bullets headed my way.

 When I walk to the very edge I take a deep breath and throw myself off the ledge while the guards shoot at me luckily only managing to graze my right arm and part of my thigh. I shoot 2 dead while up on the ledge and 2 more of the guards while jumping off the ledge knocking them down while I simultaneously shoot them dead.

 I hear commotion in the distance, I see a few guards are now cornering Hongjoong. “Are you serious?” I hiss in anger while I run I reload my gun again, only this time I drop two bullets leaving me with three. “Fuck..” 

I manage to shoot two of the guards except one. Hongjoong’s attention turns to that guard and shoots him in the face. That's when Jaques takes the opportunity to knock Hongjoong to the floor by kicking the back of his right leg. Jaques grabs onto the gun in Hongjoong’s hand and tries to turn the gun onto him. I try running as fast as my legs could take me then I hear the ricocheting of bullets behind me.

 I turn to see it’s the Provian General and more guards, fuck. Jaques being too busy struggling to get a hold of the gun I sneak behind him so that I get Hongjoong out of here. I stab him right in the neck then he lets go of the gun and falls back clutching onto his neck. 

I shift my gaze over to Hongjoong and I grab his shoulders “Leave! I’ll handle this! We can’t afford for you to get arrested Captain.” He looks down at Jaques choking on his own blood then back at me. He definitely got roughed up by Jaques, a busted lip, and his right eye was swollen from a presumed blow to the eye. 

His once pristine ensemble now covered in dirt and blood, his hair now ruined with a few strands of hair fallen to the front of his face. He sits there thinking for a few seconds and lets out a frustrated sigh and nods in acknowledgement. 

He reaches over and pats the back of my head pressing his forehead against mine, his lips being mere centimeters from mine. “You’ve got this, I’ll get everything ready at the twelve rabbit. Be careful.” Hongjoong runs behind the gazebo and climbs a concrete fence bordering the courtyard near the street. 

I kneel down and notice Jaques still wasn’t dead, yet his soulless blue eyes finally have an emotion to them, fear. I climb on top of him and smile “You were dumb calling your men and making such a big spectacle.” He chokes on his own blood struggling to speak “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You took everything from my Captain and now you’re going to pay for it with your life. I hope your repent for all the hurt you’ve caused people.” 

While choking on his blood he smirks, painting a scary expression almost like saying he wasn’t remorseful. He was trying to taunt me. He then makes some terrifying gurgling noises with a full smile showing me his blood stained teeth, a sight that will forever be ingrained in my brain. 

That’s when a mixture of fear and anger washes over me, anger for Hongjoong knowing that this man feels no remorse for what he did and fear for myself because I didn't know people could be so unremorseful even knocking on death's door. Seeing that ugly smirk on the man's face causes me to snap and I begin to angrily stab into the man's face and neck, blood spattering and landing on my face and it completely soaking my dress.

Once Jaques’ gurgling noises eventually stop. I look around and see the general looking around for me. I let out a slight sigh and look down at Jaques’ decorated chest avoiding even looking at the aftermath and stripping him from his wrongfully acquired medals leaving his chest empty. He deserves the worst, he deserves the disrespect. Just the way he probably disrespected the many people he's hurt, including Hongjoong.

Before I get up and run away I cut off his right index finger with his military ring still on it and wrap them with the bloody handkerchief on his chest pocket and stuff it in an inner pocket in my dress the two other rings I put in my other dress pocket. From a distance I hear “We’ve found her General! Mr. Norwood!” 

I turn and look in the direction the yelling came from and notice the guards running towards me like their life depended on it. The Provian General staring straight at me not moving a muscle, seething anger painting his gaze. 

 Before I run to the door leading to the street in the courtyard I pick up the gun off a deceased soldier and shoot the General in the chest not knowing if it killed or injured the man just knowing that it definitely hit him. 

When I run up to the gate the door was locked. As expected, I shoot the lock and swing the door open running into the street. While running down the street i take a detour into an alleyway and take an opposite route to the Twelve Rabbit.

In this moment the harsh cold should be bothering me but the adrenaline pumping through my veins the cold ends up being nothing but an afterthought. Slightly slipping on the ice on the cobblestone roads I raise the front of my dress so that I can run as fast as my legs carry me trying not to fall.

When I enter the Twelve Rabbit completely winded from the running Theo signals me to the back and with the last strength that I have I walk to the back of the bar leading to the back alleyway of the bar that’s when I see Hongjoong waiting outside with 2 loaded horses Theo instructing “Make sure to head the alternate route I told you about.”

 Hongjoong nods then he grabs my cape from the horse saddle and drapes it over me. How did he get a hold of this? “Flip the hood on, you’ve got blood everywhere.” I nod and put my hood on then Hongjoong helps me onto my horse “Thank you for everything Theo, I’ll be sure to repay you.”

 Theo shakes his head “You have already, no need. Now, go on.” He waves at us goodbye then I manage to say “Thank you Theo.” He smiles and says “Goodbye you two.” Hongjoong clicks his tongue in order for the horse to go triggering my horse to automatically begin moving right behind his and we ride at full speed up until we reach the gate. 

 Hongjoong slows down his horse and points his gun at the guards, the same ones that I saw yesterday “let us pass or you die.” both guards stare at me for a moment then the one who questioned me last time spoke “It was you…the fishermen’s guard..” Hongjoong cocks his gun and impatiently hisses “I won’t ask you again!”

 Startled, they nod in obedience and open the huge wooden door leading us to the poorer parts of Provia. Without a second thought he shoots both of them dead and we ride at full speed back to the port. The whole ride back to the ship was silent mostly because it was me trying not to pass out from the pain in my shoulder and Hongjoong concentrating making sure we arrived as fast as we could with no further distractions safely. 

I could feel the blood running down my arm the whole ride back to the ship but it was during the last half when the adrenaline started wearing off and pain was beginning to get unbearable. I've never been stabbed before but holy shit I took it well for this being my first time and not freaking out as much. Maybe it was because In the moment my only mission was to kill Mr. Norwood and save Hongjoong that I threw every bit of reasoning out the window. 

When we arrive at the ship I hop off the horse and I wince in pain from my injury trying my hardest to walk it off. Hongjoong hurriedly gets off his horse and walks towards me and helps me walk up the ramp then he yells “Yunho! Get over here!” 

 Right as I make it to the deck I fall to the floor losing my balance while I clutch onto my shoulder. "Fuck.." Hongjoong tries to help me up but I’m in so much pain right now I can’t even walk right. “Look at me. Yunho’s coming, you’ll be okay.”

I look over at Hongjoong and smile whilst he wipes the side of my face from Jaques’ dried blood “I made sure he was dead Captain, I also shot the General but I don’t know if he’s dead for sure..” I pull out the bloodied handkerchief containing the medals and severed finger with the ring and put it on Hongjoong’s hand. 

Hongjoong looks at the small bundle in shock and before he could say anything Yunho runs up onto the deck and sees me on the floor with blood dripping on the ground and picks me up in his arms. His dark tresses being slightly messy over having just been woken up.

Everyone on the ship was now startled awake wondering what happened. Who knew a hair ornament would do such damage, at least I didn’t dip it in poison that would have been dumb. Then again I got desperate and me trying to stab Jaques was just dumb in general. Panic makes you do dumb things.

 Hongjoong turns to Yunho and says “take her to my quarters” He nods and begins to walk towards the captain’s quarters. I peek over Yunho’s shoulder and notice the last thing I see being Seonghwa’s worried expression trying to be disguised as serious in order not to startle the rest, I lower my gaze and let out a sigh resting my head against Yunho's shoulder.

 The next morning I wake up and see Hongjoong at his desk working on something. As I lay here watching him work I notice how much more comfortable the Captain's bed is, it’s so soft and spacious. The covers are a dark maroon silk embroidered in gold accents. Not to be weird or anything but it also smelled like him, like one of the many expensive oils he owns. He smelled so good, expensive.

 The whole room also seemed to have a very calm feel to it but of course it’s the Captain’s room so there were a lot of luxurious items in here as well like a few small golden sculptures, some expensive looking furniture, and from what I can see in his haphazardly opened dresser very expensive looking clothes. 

My thoughts are interrupted by my stomach growling so then I try to sit up and slightly wince causing Hongjoong to look up from what he was working on and walks towards me “Just lay back, Yunho says to take it easy.” He grabs a chair and sits next to the his bed. “How are you feeling?” I adjust myself a little bit “I’m in slight pain but I’m fine” He nods giving me a small reassuring smile “I’m glad you’re okay, Yunho said if you would have been struck deeper it would have been bad luckily the stab wound wasn’t deep. so it won't affect any movement so long you stretch.”

I could tell he wanted to address what I gave him but he was having trouble bringing it up until he finally musters up the courage “So, about what you gave me last night.” Completely intrigued in the conversation I sit up carefully and smile “You liked it?” He nods “I did, I appreciated the gesture. That finger with the ring was a very nice touch.”

 I did it, I made him happy. “But please don’t do something like that ever again. He could have seriously killed you.” I look down at my hands drawing shapes on the covers “I knew you’d say that, but for the time being don’t worry. I won’t get so hands on anymore not until I kill Miyagawa Masaki. For him- For him I need to feel his heartbeat stop.”

 He lets out a sigh “Fair enough but don’t let it end in you dying in the end.” My eyebrow rises with a silly smirk “Why? You don’t want to lose me?” He scoffs and leans back on his chair "I guess you can say that, but it's more of a you can't die yet because I'm not the Pirate King." I giggle "Ah right, and you think with me around it'll help?" 

He rests his head on his hand with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair "Correct." He gives me a reassuring smile then as quick as I see the smile it disappears “That reminds me, none of us wanted to change you out of your dress because you know, we’re all men here. So I’ve picked out and left your clothes right here so that you could change into them once you woke up.”

 He points at the edge of the bed where my clothes are neatly folded. I look down at my bloodied and dirty clothes "Oh, right." I glance over at them then I look back at Hongjoong slightly scrunching my nose. 

“Why are you always picking out my clothes? Why can’t I do that myself?” He raises his eyebrow “What? You don’t like my choices in clothes?” I shake my head “No, I mean I do but I’m just wondering why you do that. You don’t pick out anyone else’s clothes, so why me?” 

He lets out a soft sigh and sits down at the edge of his bed resting his foot on the varnished wood’s bed frame whilst the other rests on the floor.. Oh God did I just say something I shouldn’t have? Is he going to get onto me over asking something dumb?

“What do you think my reason is?” Embarrassed, I mumble “I don’t know I guess maybe you want us to match somehow? To make a statement of some sort?” For a few moments he looks at me with a smile threatening to show itself onto his features.

 “Well, you’re partially right. The reason is I wanted you to be one of the faces of our crew in a way. Something to capture the strength of our crew, like its respective Captain. I want everyone to know that fear doesn’t always come looking like a big, ugly man and that it can also come looking as a gorgeous and beautiful young woman. A strong femme fatale from a far away land who’s partnered up with one of the most feared men among the seas.”

I absentmindedly stare at him for a bit. Me? A femme fatale? I'm more of a shy, angry short woman who happens to know how to fight. "Wow, the way you put it makes it sound nice." He tilts his head “Is it not?” 

I slightly raise my eyebrow my face beginning to burn “So is that how you feel about me? You think I’m beautiful?” Hongjoong smirks “What woman isn’t?” I stare at the clothes and back at him stifling a laugh. I guess he didn't mean it like that. “You’re funny Captain. Now, if you’ll excuse me..” 

I try to get up from his bed and wince in pain and fall back to my original sitting position then scoots closer to my side “Hey, I told you to be careful. Do you want to change clothes?” I nod and he puts my arm around his neck and carefully helps me off his bed.

 Just as he helps me up Seonghwa comes into the quarters and rushes over to me “y/n, you’re awake!” Hongjoong steps away from me letting Seonghwa help me instead “I’ll be going back to my desk. Seonghwa, help her please.” He nods and grabs my forearm for support “Let’s take you to the bathroom so you can change into your clothes.”

He grabs my clothes and walks me over to the captain’s bathroom, it was small but it was nice none the less. After changing out of my bloodied dress and into the clothes Hongjoong picked out. When I step out with my bloodied dress still in hand Seonghwa smiles and says “Better?”

 I nod and he guides me over to the mess hall “Let’s get you something to eat now you must be hungry. I’ll take this and put it somewhere safe if you still want it.” I hold onto his sleeve while going down the stairs “Please, for memories sake.” That face, those souless blue eyes. Why do they keep replaying in my head? I thought these things would stop the more I do it but I guess not. 

“y/n! You’re up already?!” Wooyoung shouts causing me to get slightly startled then Seonghwa hisses “Wooyoung please, not so loud she just woke up.” He covers his mouth “Sorry, but you’re okay right?” I chuckle “Uh, yeah I mean I’m standing here aren’t I?” Mingi fixes his hair and walks over to me and gives me a dorky smile “Wah, the Captain did a very nice job picking our your clothes today. You’re so cute-” 

San walks up to me and pushes Mingi aside and leads me to the chair next to him “Shouldn’t you be in bed y/n?” Seonghwa smiles looking in my direction goes back up to the deck leaving me with the rest of the crew “Yeah, but I hate just sitting there taking up space.” He furrows his eyebrows “But you’re not, you literally got stabbed last night. You need your rest” 

I smile and put my hand on San’s shoulder slowly moving it to the back of his neck and gently squeezing “Look, it’s going to take a lot more to kill me so don’t worry I’m fine, besides the stab wasn’t even that deep.” He blinks then a soft flush creeps onto his cheeks and ears then turns his attention to the other guys to cover it up “I’m glad you’re doing okay, you scared us for a second there” Jongho passes me the bread basket. 

“Well, unfortunately my life wasn’t guaranteed the moment I joined this crew.” Wooyoung sets my food in front of me while Yunho says “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you put yourself in danger like that.” I roll my eyes “I still killed the man didn’t I? Besides, Hongjoong did most of the work I just finished him. I don’t understand why you’re so mad, besides you’re the doctor so that’s your job and mine is protecting the Captain.” 

Almost like a switch was flipped Yunho looks at me with a very unamused look “Just because I’m a doctor doesn’t mean I enjoy having to see my crewmates in pain. As our captain’s assassin and protector you need to stop being so reckless and think about your actions more thoroughly.” 

I giggle covering up my smile “You’re funny, seriously stop telling me what to do. I already got an earful from the Captain, I don’t need to hear it again.” Yeosang looks over at Yunho then back at me and says “Don’t listen to him, I know you did it to the Captain’s best interest.” 

I look over at Yeosang and smile “Thank you, at least someone understands.” Wooyoung sits in his chair “So anyways before Yunho decided to get upset over you doing your job, who was the person you had to off?” 

Yunho looks over at Wooyoung giving him an annoyed look then San smacks Wooyoung “Hey, maybe you shouldn’t be asking that.” I shrug “ Well, I don’t think It’d be a problem if I said anything considering I've already finished the job but it was Jaques Norwood, some military officer. I also shot the Provian General in the chest but I genuinely don’t know if I killed him or if I’ve injured him. ” A few guys choke on their drinks while the others give me a shocked expression. Jongho leans over the table towards me “There’s no way you killed that man and shot the Provian general..” 

I take a bite of my food nonchalantly and nod “I did, I saw it myself but like I said Hongjoong did most of the work. I just finished him off and made sure I saw the light go out of his eyes. What a shame such a handsome man could be so ugly on the inside. He introduced himself to me as well so I knew who exactly to get rid of from the source themselves. As for the General, that was just kind of something last minute before I ran off.” 

They all look at each other very confused then Yeosang says “How exactly though? That man is near impossible to get to not to mention extremely dangerous.” I take a small sip of my drink and smirk “I got to him through his heart. It seemed like he was pretty desperate too because I didn’t have to try very hard to catch his attention. Also oddly enough the only time he wasn’t surrounded by military men and soldiers was when he was at the military tavern which was where I met him. He seemed to have his guard down with me alot.”

 Mingi chuckles and says “That’s because you’re so tiny, I’m sure he never expected you to be able to take him.” I slightly frown looking down at the table. Problem is he did probably suspect it but he probably just liked me enough that he was willing to give me the benefit of a doubt. I meet Mingi’s eyes and force a smile “Yeah, he was completely blindsided. I mean the man literally stabbed my shoulder thinking he'd be able to get away with it.”

 Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa enter the mess hall and Hongjoong says “Alright guys enough with the questions let her eat.” everyone’s attention turns to Hongjoong immediately Wooyoung says “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today Captain.” He sits down at the head of the table “Yeah, I felt like it was necessary”

 Wooyoung gets up to get Hongjoong his food leaving everyone slightly confused. From what I heard Hongjoong didn’t really come down to eat with everyone very often. He usually eats alone in his quarters sometimes with Seonghwa but even then Seonghwa joins us most of the time. Mingi turns to look at Yunho slightly worried while San, Yeosang, and Jongho stay dead silent looking down at their food. This is weird, does this mean something bad is going to happen? Why is everyone so scared? 

Wooyoung comes back into the room and sets down Hongjoong’s plate in front of him along with an empty glass. Hongjoong serves himself some sort of booze then looks up at everyone silently eating and dryly laughs “Why is everyone so quiet? A minute ago it sounded so busy.”

 Everyone sits there in silence until Jongho says “Well Captain, evreytime you sit down and eat with us it’s always bad news. Like last time it was the execution of the Raisan people who helped us in the Raisan Kingdom, another-” Hongjoong sticks his hand out in front of him and signals Jongho to be quiet “Okay, that’s enough. I see where you’re coming from. I apologize for turning my presence into a bad omen.”

 I give him reassuring smile “How about you try to join us for more meals Captain, so that it doesn’t feel strange when you actually decide to step out of your quarters.” He nods and raises his glass “I’ll do that.” 

I look over at everyone else “Don’t worry, I’ll drag him here if I have to.” Wooyoung giggles “I’m glad the Captain has someone on board who’s got balls as much as he does.” everyone including myself burst out into laughter while Hongjoong sits there forcing a smile and scoffs irritatedly looking at Wooyoung.

After lunch I go to the crew’s quarters and sit on my bed and notice my blood stained dress was neatly folded at the foot of my bed. I grab the dress and check the pocket only to hear the small clinking of the rings in the pockets. 

I examine the two rings, one of them was a thick silver band ring with a cushion cut dark green jewel. The second was another silver ring but this one’s had an emblem carved on it, presumably the emblem of the Provian military I’m not sure but it looked cool. I reach for my backpack on the side of my bed  and put them in the front pocket where I kept my grandma’s ring.

 When I put my backpack back where it belongs I hear something fall over. When I check what it was I realize it was Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s weapons. I completely forgot to give it to them my first night with them. Maybe I should return it to them now, better late then never. I grab the bag and sling it over my uninjured shoulder. 

On my way to look for both Hongjoong and Seonghwa I run into Mingi “Hey, where’s Seonghwa?” He looks up from the map he was looking at and gives me a bright smile “y/n, hey. Seonghwa is with the captain in his work room in his quarters” I nod and continue walking then Mingi continues “Wait. What’s in that bag?” 

I blink “Oh, this is just the Captain and Seonghwa’s weapons. My grandpa refurbished them and I forgot to give it back to them.” He walks over to me and extends his hand “here, I’ll give you a hand. You shouldn’t carry anything right now" I step back out of his reach "oh no, don't worry I'm fine I can do it myself." Mingi chuckles and takes the bag from me “Too late, let’s go.”

 I frown glaring up at him “You’re lucky I can’t raise my arm right now.” Mingi walks ahead of me and pats my head causing me to roll my eyes and walk behind him. He sure is taking advantage of the fact that I can’t kick his ass. When we arrive at Hongjoong’s quarters I take the bag from him and knock on the door “Ok go now.” He pats my head “Not a thank you but it’ll do.” 

A few moments later Seonghwa opens the door and smiles “y/n, come in.” I walk in and look around immediately spotting Hongjoong already looking at me then I say “So, I have something for you both.” I put the bag on Hongjoong’s desk, he blinks and looks over Seonghwa not understanding the situation. 

Seonghwa then says “A gift?” I shake my head and gesture Hongjoong to open it “You could say that, it’s more like I’m returning these to you.” Hongjoong opens the bag and pulls out a shotgun causing Seonghwa to audibly gasp. Hongjoong pulls out a sword, the same one I wielded to protect them from Acatl only this time it was cleaned and sharpened. Lastly he pulls out his gun, the shot gun's wooden details was newly varnished and polished to give the guns a new feel.

 The metal parts of the guns were also cleaned to look pristine again. Hongjoong stares at the weapons on the desk in silence while Seonghwa looks over at me and says “y/n, you didn’t have to.” I shake my head and smile “It wasn’t me, it was my grandpa. He felt bad for the way you guys were treated when you guys first arrived at our village so it was his way of repaying your kindness towards us. Again, sorry I forgot to give these to you. I kind of forgot. There was too much going on.”

 Seonghwa pats my back “It’s okay, it’s better than never. Thank you.” I glance over at Hongjoong who had his gun in his hand and was still staring at the weapons “Captain, I’m sorry if you didn’t want your gun fixed. I honestly didn’t know my grandpa did this until the day I left.”

 Hongjoong raises his gaze from the weapons and looks at me with fondness in his eyes “No. Thank you.” I give him a small smile “I really do hope you both like them.” Seonghwa picks up his shot gun and twirls it aiming it out the window then rests it on his shoulder. 

I smile at Seonghwa looking so happy holding his gun “Wow, it looks and feels better than when I first bought it actually. It’s beautiful.” Hongjoong clears his throat “So, you’re going to stay here while Seonghwa helps Mingi.” Seonghwa and I turn to look at Hongjoong in confusion then he gives Seonghwa a look. 

“I’ll get going, thanks again for this y/n. I really do appreciate you returning these to us, it was very sweet of you and your grandfather.” I shake my head and pat Seonghwa’s arm “No problem, I’ll see you later.” He nods and exits Hongjoong’s quarters leaving me and him alone. 

I stand there awkwardly and look around the room “So, why did you want me to stay here?” Hongjoong shrugs “I don’t know, your job is to follow me around like my protective puppy.” I furrow my eyebrow taking that to slight offence “Excuse me? My job is to protect you from getting a bullet in your head not to be your caretaker.” 

He smirks to himself and absentmindedly nods “You’re right you’re not, but I’d appreciate if you helped me once in a while” What in the sea god is this man talking about? Help him? Help him with what?. I dryly laugh “Gosh Captain, I never realized how much of a child you are.” 

He scrunches his nose and gives me an annoyed look “What? I get tired sometimes..” I scoff and sit on his desk “Tired of what? Sitting here locked in your quarters for days at a time?” I see the leather journal in front of him and I pick it up “Oh, what’s this?” Hongjoong snatches the journal from my grasp before I’m able to even open it “Don’t touch that! Has no one told you not to go looking through anyone’s belongings?” I stifle a laugh “Geez, sorry I didn’t think it was that personal.” 

He rolls his eyes and puts the journal in a drawer in his desk “Well it is, next time ask before you look through something.” I nod biting my lip, stifling a laugh. I don’t know what it is about Hongjoong but seeing him get annoyed is so funny, oddly enough this is the first time I have the urge to tease someone. Wait. Oh no, I think I’ve just been hanging out around Wooyoung, San and Mingi too much. Their annoying antics are rubbing off on me. 

“Go get a chair, my desk is not a chair.” I hop off his desk “Excuse me? I should be able to sit anywhere I want? I’m injured, or did you forget that?” He points at the chair he used this morning near his bed “You know what? My shoulder is hurting really bad I’m going to sleep. Wake me up if you need something.”I roll my eyes and walk towards his bed.

“No, you said you wanted to be of use so you’ll sit right here and help me.” I stare at him “Oh yeah? And do what? Stare at you write for the next 6 hours?” Keeping a straight face he gets up “Yep.” He walks over and grabs the chair and sets it in front of his desk and gestures for me to sit down “Now, get to work.”

 I don’t know how exactly Seonghwa sits here all day with him. Hongjoong is cool but when he gets into his Captain mindset he’s a bit of a pain. I sit on the chair and look around the room eventually staring out the window. What happened to the friendly Hongjoong? I get he’s my boss now but come on, I thought we were friends.

 I started noticing this change about him about a few weeks after I got here, I wonder what his problem is. Maybe he’s just stressed? I don’t know, maybe. Why on Earth does he want me to be here? I get it if I was watching him if we were on land but we’re out at sea with no enemy ships nearby. So what’s the deal? 

After a few hours of me just sitting here in silence wandering in my own thoughts and being in pain Hongjoong finally decides to get up and stretch “You should stretch or you’ll cramp up.” I glance at him for a few seconds and go back to staring out the window “I’m fine.” He chuckles “Alright. Come. I need to go make sure everything is going well on the ship, it’s been too quiet and I need fresh air.” 

I get up and follow behind him to the deck “Remind me why I need to follow you around again?” he gives me a soft smile “It’s your job.” I’m starting to think he’s doing this as punishment for deciding not to rest. After spending all day by his side like his shadow, not speaking unless spoken to. Hongjoong little by little began to ask me more often to be by his side.

 It was kind of annoying because I wasn’t protecting him, it was basically me being his caretaker but unable to talk like friends just like in the beginning. Which wasn’t in the job description but then again I owe alot to that man so I just let it slide. Hongjoong has a habit of not taking care of himself and wholeheartedly lets his work consume him, Seonghwa told me that if someone doesn’t intervene he could go days at a time without eating or sleeping which is worrying.

 There were a few times when Seonghwa would bring his food and he paid no attention to it, even if he came by to remind Hongjoong to eat he’d brush him off and tell him “I’ll do it later” which happened quite frequently. Ever since I caught wind of that when I’m forced to be by his side I force him to at least eat once a day. I swear, this man will get sick and die before he’s the Pirate King if he keeps it up. I still think he’s brilliant though, even if he’s a stubborn hardass sometimes.

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Previous Chapter

[hyprfixate]

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part two

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 4.1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au (will add more as i think about it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: this took so long to write and im not even sure i’m satisfied with it, but i hope you all enjoy! as usual if you see formatting mistakes, no you didn’t.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tag list: @mal-lunar-28 (comment on this post to be added!)

part one - part two - part three - part four

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

With your eyes scrunched tight from the pain, you weren’t able to see Hyunjin reaching out for you or Minho’s shocked face off to the side. Tears pooled in your lashes as you clutched at your ear, the pain making your ears ring.

“Okay, it’s okay, I got you.”

A hand, you assumed it to be Hyunjin’s, pressed something cold against your ear. Slowly, the pain started to dissipate little by little, until you found your eyes open again, blurred by the remnants of tears.

Hyunjin’s plump lips were slack in surprise and confusion. He glanced over at Minho, whose face was tight and slightly annoyed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he held the paper bag with the care instructions in one of his hands.

“You’d think letting your piercer know you’re allergic to silver would be common sense, huh.” His annoyed tone was punctuated by a raise of his eyebrow.

“You’d think the piercer would realize I wouldn’t know, since I don’t have any piercings.”

You stared at him with a deadpan look on your face. Next to you, Hyunjin bit his tongue to stop from laughing. It didn’t prove to be very helpful, however, and his shoulders still shook slightly.

After composing himself, Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah so, if it continues to hurt like that you can come back and we’ll swap the earring out for you.”

He snatched the care bag from Minho and presented it to you. “Maybe it was just a delayed reaction to the pain though. Make sure you follow all the instructions here carefully, okay? We don’t want it to get infected.”

“Another thing,” Minho piped up. “Hopefully the picture is off the board now— and if it isn’t, take it down when you get out there Hyunjin— but if anyone asks where you got that earring, don’t send them here.”

Both you and Hyunjin stared at him like he lost his mind. “Uh…”

“We’re trying to run a business here, dude,” Hyunjin sighed. He turned his attention back to you. “You can tell them where you got pierced. But, yeah, maybe don’t tell them Minho made the earring specifically. He’s touchy about it.”

You remembered how gorgeous it looked in your ear, and you felt yourself smiling slightly. Gatekeeping, in this instance, had to be okay, right? The artist himself didn’t want anyone else to wear his artwork, so it was almost necessary. You reached an absent minded hand up to your ear, and traced your finger over the heart.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whispered.

The blonde blinked in surprise, almost as if he wasn’t used to the phrase. For a second, you thought his grouchy exterior would wash away.

“Whatever. I hope you like it.”

Nevermind.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to the front,” Hyunjin said softly. With a gentle hand on your back to guide you, he began walking out of Minho’s studio, casting an unreadable glance back at Minho, who was staring at you.

Once the two of you were out of earshot, you turned to Hyunjin. “Is he normally like that? Or did I offend him by getting this earring?”

“Hm? Oh, Minho! No, he’s just like that. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He paused for a second. “Well, I mean, he’s just like that when it comes to the earring. It’s a…. cultural thing?”

You felt yourself freeze. “A cultural thing..?”

Did you just unknowingly commit a micro-aggression? Anxiety brewed in your gut as you stared at Hyunjin with large, pleading eyes.

“Oh— no! Don’t worry! The earring isn’t the cultural thing— or, well it kind of is, but not in like a… I mean, like…”

Your anxiety didn’t quell with Hyunjin stuttering over his words. Common sense told you that the earring had a complicated history, and there wasn’t much Hyunjin could tell you that would make sense without the background context. You paused his anxious bumbling by putting a hand on his arm, causing him to look over at you.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I just want to know if I’m… disrespecting a culture by wearing this. You don’t have to tell me a whole story if you don’t want to.”

The redhead let out a small breath. “Right. Okay. The history of the earring is a little complicated, but it’s a culture no one knows about. Except us here, in the studio.”

“Like an ancient civilization?”

He pressed his lips together. “Yeah. Something like that.”

A part of you didn’t believe him in the slightest, but you nodded anyway. “That’s kind of cool,” you offered. With his meek smile, you gave him a strong one. “So you guys are history buffs. Wouldn’t expect that with the tattoos and piercings.”

Hyunjin chuckled, continuing your walk to the front lobby. “You’d be surprised,” he giggled. “But, I’m glad you chose the earring. You seem like a nice person, and that makes me happy.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face at the praise. Before you could reply, Hyunjin parted the mysterious black curtain from earlier and ushered you out into the front lobby. Chan was seated next to the front desk, along with a new face you didn’t recognize. The silver hair, black gloves, and tattoos indicated that he also worked there, though, and so did Hyunjin’s warm smile.

Chan glanced up from his conversation and smiled at you. “All done?”

“Yeah,” you smiled back. You turned your head to show him, and he gave a wolf whistle in response.

“I’m so glad Minho actually did it,” he grinned. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. And everything else was okay?”

“We had a small mishap with a mirror,” you cringed. “I was looking at his little watermark and my ear started burning. He and Hyunjin think I might be allergic to silver.”

“Watermark?”

The new voice surprised you. The three of you turned to the third person, who’s almond eyes were round and sparkling. Noticing everyone staring at him, he shrunk into himself and gave a bashful smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Jisung raises a good point,” Chan mumbled to himself. “What watermark do you mean?”

Your eyebrow raised slightly. “The squiggles in the earring.” You made a squiggly motion with your finger. “When light hits them it spells out Minho’s name.”

A strange silence blanketed the front lobby. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, and his tongue peeked out of his mouth to mess with his lip ring. “Huh,” he mumbled. “We didn’t know about that part.”

The newcomer, Jisung, blinked quietly. “It makes sense.” His voice was quiet. “If you think about it.”

After another awkward beat, Chan clapped his hands together once. “Well, either way, don’t worry about the mirror. We run through them like laundry here. Especially Jisung.”

“Hey!”

Chan pulled out a few pieces of official looking paperwork. “Can I get your ID to confirm your age?”

You fumbled around in your pocket and handed him the small card. He gave it a quick glance and handed it back to you with a smile.

There was something about Chan and his smile that made you feel… safe. His eyes always seemed to be sparkling, and his expressions were always kind, even when he was arguing with Minho. You felt a smile appear on your face in response.

“Oh! Happy Birthday,” Chan grinned. “I’ll slide a little discount on there for you then. Everything comes out to be $45.”

You wrinkled your face. “That seems kind of low… Minho made the whole earring by hand.”

“But he was also a horrible piercer because he was grumpy,” Hyunjin piped up. “Birthday discount and a ‘We’re sorry for our friend’ discount.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you relented, and dug around your pocket to hand Chan the necessary money for your piercing, along with a bit extra. Grumpy or not, Minho did an amazing job with the piercing and the earring itself. He deserved something special.

And, besides, you did shatter his mirror.

Chan printed your receipt and slid it across the counter to you, along with a business card. It had a sloppily scribbled smiley face across the front, and you peered up at him with questioning eyes.

“Just in case you do decide to get lobe piercings,” he explained. “So you can call and I’ll let you know when our guy is in.”

“Or if you ever just want to hang out,” Jisung added. “I like your energy.”

You gave the bright eyed boy a smile as you slipped everything into your pocket. “I’ll consider it,” you teased. He smiled gently before picking up your care package and handing it to you.

Just as you reached out to grab it, the piercing in your ear felt like it’d been lit aflame. You dropped all your belongings as you reached to grab your ear with both hands, your knees almost buckling as the pain radiated through your head. Along with the pain this time came that suffocating feeling from earlier, when you first stepped into Minho’s studio.

Everything sounded like you were 10 feet underwater. You could barely keep your eyes open through the pain, your vision now littered with shadows and vague colors. You could see Hyunjin’s head of red hair leaping over the counter to get to you quickly.

From somewhere nearby, you could hear Chan calling your name with growing concern. You tried to steady your breathing in order to respond, but your efforts were futile. That was, until Hyunjin pressed another cold paper towel on your ear. Your gut instinct was to push his hand away, but he held you with a bit of force, rendering you motionless and almost limp in his arms. Bit by bit, the pain started to disappear again.

You wanted to keep your eyes closed, but a nagging feeling crept up your neck— a feeling that someone was watching you. You cracked one eye open, completely disoriented with your surroundings. You were on the floor, that much you knew, but you couldn’t tell what part of the lobby you’d landed on.

The nagging feeling returned, and you glanced slightly to your left to see Minho peering at you from behind the black curtain that led to the individual studios. His glare was menacing, but somewhat curious. Once he noticed your gaze on him, he disappeared quickly, leaving you alone with the three panicked men.

Speaking of—

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

You shifted your gaze to find Chan and Jisung kneeling in front of you. Chan was gripping his phone tightly in his hand as though ready to dial emergency services.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “My ear again. I’m okay now though, but I guess I really am allergic to silver.”

“That was worse than last time,” Hyunjin whined from behind you. Only then did you notice that you were seated between his legs like a small child. His grip on you was secure, so you knew there was no wiggling away.

Chan’s face had concern slapped right on it. He pressed his lips together and continued to stare at you as though he thought by breathing, he’d agitate the piercing and cause you to be in pain again. After a moment, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“I’m gonna have to get Minho to remake it in gold,” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly. “It doesn’t have to be this earring, I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“No,” Chan said simply. “That's what you wanted, so that’s what you’re getting. Would you mind coming back in a week?”

You shrugged. You didn’t see why not, it wasn’t like you had things to do.

“Although, if the pain gets unbearable, you should come back sooner.” Hyunjin’s hand was gentle on your ear. “We have topical pain ointment that should help.”

After a beat of silence, Jisung offered you his hand and pulled you up to your feet. The rest of the boys followed, and soon you were all standing around the desk like you were before. Jisung handed you the care package, his fingers barely gracing yours for fear of seeing you double over in pain again.

“We have your number from the paperwork,” Chan said. “I’ll text you when the earring is ready. Or, like Hyunjin said, you can shoot us a text if you need to come because of the pain.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

The red-hot pain had dulled down into a mild ache, the kind you would expect from having a hollow needle take out a chunk of your skin. You rubbed at it absentmindedly, only to have your hand swatted at by Hyunjin.

“You’ll rub the ointment off,” he scolded.

You nodded sheepishly, slipping the care package bag into the reusable tote Chan was sliding over to you.

“Right, thank you guys.” Your mouth felt too heavy to speak, but you powered through. “You guys are great, I’ll see you in a week for the new earring.”

“Or sooner,” Chan interrupted. His gaze stayed pointed at you, as though he was looking through to your inner being. You gripped the tote for security as he continued. “Seriously, don’t feel like an inconvenience if you have to come in.”

“I’ll come in,” you assured him. He gave you another squint, but nodded eventually.

After three minutes worth of hugs from Hyunjin (and almost hugs from a sheepish Jisung), you felt the door of Tatt and Body Works click closed behind you. The uphill trek now looked manageable, and despite the pain in your ear, you felt level-headed and capable for the first time in a long time.

It wasn’t until a few days later that the problems started.

The piercing went from attacking you once a day to multiple times within the hour. Each episode lasted longer and longer, and after a while it would take up to an hour to recover.

Despite your promise to Chan, at first you held off on texting the parlor about it. In your mind, it was just an allergic reaction, and they were already working on something to help you. It seemed like overkill to get both the ointment and the replacement earring.

Then again, from the short interaction with Minho, you knew he hadn’t agreed to remake the earring so quickly. His stubborn streak was more like a stubborn stripe, and he probably only recently got started on it and was going to take his time completing it for reasons you couldn’t comprehend.

You tried using an image search engine to look up the general shape of the earring, just to see if you could figure out its meaning. The search results gave you nothing every time, no matter how many buzzwords you added. Hyunjin was correct, it truly was a part of a culture that no one knew about. You would feel more curious about it, if the damn thing wasn’t trying to send you to an early grave.

After a few days, you realized you couldn’t take it anymore and needed the ointment Hyunjin promised you. Whether Minho finished the earring or not was his business, but you refused to suffer any longer knowing there was a cure waiting for you a few blocks away.

So, with a courtesy text to the guys, you tossed your phone and wallet into a crossbody bag and made your way to the shop.

The air was cool on your face, giving the day a comfortable and delightful feeling. It was mid afternoon so the sun hung high in the sky, casting the shadows of buildings all along the street during your walk.

Once you reached the top of the hill, you peered down and noticed someone standing in front of the shop. You couldn’t make out their face from where you were standing, but their silhouette looked a lot like Hyunjin. They leaned against the brick wall, tapping away on their phone. You assumed— if it was Hyunjin— that he was on his break. After a few seconds, someone else walked out of the shop, said a few words to him, and disappeared around the corner.

The closer you got to the end of the hill, the more sure you were about it being Hyunjin. You were about to bite the bullet and call out his name when an eerie feeling washed over you.

You stopped dead in your tracks. It felt like fire and ice had chased each other up your spine before wrapping around your neck and leaving you in a chokehold. Anxiety brewed in your gut, and everything in you screamed for you to either turn around and go home, or make a mad dash for the parlor. But the sudden fear had your feet rooted to the ground, and you begged that Hyunjin would look up and see you.

As you focused your eyes back on him, you noticed that he had stopped tapping away on his phone. He was looking around with his phone gripped tightly in his hand. You knew at that moment that whatever you were sensing, he certainly was sensing too. You tried to push his name out of your mouth, but he quickly ran into the building and disappeared from your view.

That’s weird, you thought. Truly, weird was an understatement, but unless you tried to downplay your anxiety you’d be standing here for the rest of the day. You tried to shake the strange feeling off of your skin and so you could start walking again, but as soon as your foot lifted from the ground, you felt a hand tap you on the shoulder.

You whipped around quickly, coming face to face with a complete stranger. Your eyes were wide and wild, and you knew you looked as freaked out as you felt. They looked equally startled, however.

“Woah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

The stranger pulled their hand away from you quickly, stepping back to put some more space between the two of you. You pressed your hand over your chest to still your heart and nodded at the stranger, still too surprised to say words. He reached out his hand again, and this time you noticed your wallet sitting on his palm.

“You dropped this,” he offered. “I was trying to get your attention but I don’t think you heard me.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, thank you so much!”

You took the wallet from him and nudged your bag in front of you, but as you did confusion began to shroud your features. Your bag was still closed, and your phone was still in there, so how did your wallet manage to fall out? You poked around to check for holes, almost forgetting you were in the company of another person.

“That earring is really cool.” You looked up to see the man still standing by you, his eyes fixed on the metal in your ear. Your hand reached up protectively.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you mumbled. You remembered Minho’s warning (or threat, rather) not to tell anyone where you got the earring. You decided to remain paused on the sidewalk instead of continuing your walk to the parlor, just so the man wouldn’t make any connections. You glanced back at him with a polite smile and noticed that he was still staring, but his face was morphing from intrigue to something else.

Something sinister.

Your gut started screaming for you to get to the parlor as quickly as possible.

“Oh shoot,” you casted a glance at your wrist, cringing when you noticed there was no watch on it. You pressed on anyway. “I— I’m actually late for an appointment,” you said. You took two small steps backwards, prepping your legs for a sprint. “Thanks for the compliment, and for my wallet. Bye now.”

As you turned on your heels, you felt an arm grip you and spin you back around. Your breath caught in your chest as you faced your attacker, who was now staring at you with all the contempt in the world.

“Nah, little lady. I don’t think so.” His voice came out in a low growl, a tone so low that you swore you could feel it vibrating down to your toes.

“Let go of me!” You thrashed in his grip, trying to free yourself. His fingers held tighter— tight enough to bruise. You could feel tears beginning to make their way to your eyes.

With his free hand, he gripped your chin between his fingers and turned your head roughly to the side. “Tell me, who pierced your ear?”

When you failed to answer, his grip on your jaw increased and he raised his arm higher, effectively lifting you off of the ground. Now strung up in the air, you tried kicking and scratching at him, but he held you at arms length like a dirty sock.

“Stop resisting,” he barked. “Just take me to Minho, and everything will be fine.”

Your eyes went wide at the mention of Minho’s name, and a smirk appeared on the man’s face.

“Gotcha.”

You looked around frantically, hoping for someone to come bounding around the corner and save you. The struggle for breath was really starting to take hold of you, and you could feel what you assumed to be the beginning of consciousness loss. You gave one final weak kick before you gave up, fighting to keep your eyes open and your awareness in the present.

Just before the endless black sea took over your vision, you felt the grip on your jaw release, and you fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump. Your ears were ringing, but through the noise you could hear muffled sounds of violence, and you sent a wish to every power that ever existed that the new people were here to save you.

A hand pressed to your forehead, and you opened your eyes weakly to see the vague silhouette of a man looking back at you. You could barely hear him, but by reading his lips you could tell he was calling your name. His hold on your forehead got stronger, and the ringing in your ears cleared up just a bit, enough to tune into the conversation.

“—answering me, Chan! I don’t think— no, she’s up! She’s up!”

You felt the air whizz around you as Hyunjin picked you up bridal style and took off running. His grip on you was tight, and he kept speaking to you under his breath, trying to keep you alert.

“Hyunjin?”

“No,” he scolded. “Don’t speak, please. Not until I heal you, okay? I don’t want you to strain. Please.”

You felt the shift in air as he stepped into the parlor, not just from the AC system, but the homely, calming energy you noticed before engulfed you like a warm blanket. You felt the bounce in his steps as he took you up a flight of stairs, and after a second you found yourself laying on a couch, with his hand still on your forehead.

With your eyes better adjusted, you looked up at him. His normally bright eyes were dull and red, almost like he’d been crying for a long time. When he noticed you staring, he offered a small smile.

“Gave us a little scare there, huh?”

“What happened?”

He pressed his lips together and looked away, eyes searching the walls for his answer. At first, you thought he was looking at another person, so you tried to shift your position to see what he was seeing. However, the fall from earlier reared it ugly head, and you could feel a bruise forming on the spot where your body hit the ground. You let out a sharp hiss of pain.

Hyunjin looked back at you, concern in his eyes. “What hurts?”

“My back.” You shifted again. “I think it’s gonna bruise, from when I fell.”

Gently, Hyunjin eased you onto your side. “I’m gonna touch it,” he whispered. “But it won’t hurt for long. I’m gonna heal it.”

“What are you t—”

Hyunjin’s fingers graced the aching spot on your back, and though you prepared for pain it never came. Instead, a peaceful feeling blossomed all over your body starting from that one spot. You wiggled a bit to find that the pain was entirely gone.

Eyes wide, you turned back to Hyunjin, who was giving you another shy smile.

“What the fuck?”

“Surprise,” he laughed weakly.

Before you could ask him any more questions, pounding footsteps echoed near your head. Hyunjin sighed heavily as you turned your head around, coming face to face with a very angry blonde haired man.

Minho’s anger was palpable. He pointed a single finger at your face, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he did.

“We need to have a fucking talk.”

[redfurrycat]

Hey! Have you made a master list of Ice being Jake’s dad? (I absolutely love, appreciate and frequently use your master lists)

Just as I’m writing the Ron is Jake’s dad au I’ve been trying to read all the Ice is Jake’s dad and I’m sure I’m missing some??

Hey Mac! 😊

This is slightly different than how I usually do rec lists. In this case, I searched through the Top Gun (Movies) fics tagged as Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Jake "Hangman" Seresin and then proceeded with the collecting of all fics mentioning any paternal-filial bond between the two, regardless of the pairings.

Meaning I don't think I know most of them, but I hope you can find stuff to read nonetheless.

(I'll probably -absolutely- do a Hangster & Icepops-Hangson recs list though, at some point in the future! 😊)

I invite anyone to add fics fitting the request if you have more! 💖

Tumblr Posts

The Hangman's Guide to Winning Over Your Disapproving Admiral-In-Law – Part 1 – 2 – 3 (@amostexcellentblog)

Also see these:

nonbinary-jakeseresin post

weewoobrainrot post

whohasthecards post

AO3 Fics

(All have Jake as Ice's biological or adopted son, unless mentioned otherwise.)

See You Again by sleeping_maple {T}

Just when Hangman thinks that the day can't get any worse, he finds out that his father died. His father, Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. And he doesn't take it well. Luckily, Sarah Kazansky and Maverick are there to help.

Mini Man by SpringPetunia {T}

Hangman is Iceman's son. He never tells anyone anymore because of how they always react. But his dad is coming for a visit

Golden Boy by Earthangel_44 {E}

“Say it.” Jake says smiling. His face is so close to Bradley’s that Bradley has to duck his chin to look at him. “You’re a bird, Jake.” Bradley replies and Jake beams. “I already have the wings.” Jake says happily as he presses short quick kisses to Bradley’s lips. Bradley smiles and Jake kisses that too. “Now say you’re a bird.” Bradley laughs and he smiles until his eyes crinkle. “Well if you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” A Notebook AU because Glen Powell ships Hangster

Touch Starved by LeonDesdichard {M}

(Ice acting like a dad)

Jake shows up at Ice and Mav's house and he's completely out of it because he's sick and Maverick and Bradley are out of the house so it ends up being Ice who is the one that is taking care of Jake. Jake is completely out of it because he's feverish and he's really touch starved which has Ice angry for a ton of different reasons.

Military Amalgamate by rem_png {G}

(Icemav’s son)

Back in the 80s, the government wanted to make a new generation of super pilots. So, they turned to science and mixed the DNA of their best fighter pilots. None of the pilots knew about this project. Fast forward to 2020 and the truth comes out, rattling many families.

Take me home by Target_rich_environment {G}

Jake takes Bob home after the bird strike

IcePops and HangSon Series by UFOxMulder {T}{E}

Hangman snippets Series by Fantasy2739 {T}

Even worse idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T}

(Ice acting like a dad)

“Bradley, Ice just texted me to come to “hang out”, is this a threat?” “Jake you’ve known him for almost five years now, it is definitely just Ice wanting you to do some work around the house.” “Okay but-” “Baby, this exact conversation happened last week, you know Ice is so different at home than he is at work.” “But is he?” “Jake, please,” “Okay yeah, I’ll go over.”

Midnight Hour Mixtape by Bubblegumchaos {T}

Hangman runs; he always been much too good at that sort of thing. Jake would give anything to find his father except his clues are half a dozen letters in a shoebox and his late mother's drunken rambles of a man who wasn't her husband.

I don't know how to change a tyre by blazingstar29 {G}

(Son-Fatherly Feels)

Jake gives his first father's day at 30.

Top Gun: Kazansky Twins by Tazlady691 {T}

A cannon divergence AU: The story of a pair of twins and their life up to 2023

The Mitchell-Kazanskys Series by WhisperingNights {T}{M}

Flowers for my grave by TheReadingWriter {T}

When a study on the genetics of Hanahaki disease brings forth the revelation that Jake "Hangman" Seresin is in fact Tom "Iceman" Kazansky's son, their lives take a dramatic turn, as they for the first time in their lives have someone to other than the ones who cursed them to live for. Their times are both running out, but they will be damned if they will let the other die without at least trying to save them. When the mission of a lifetime arrives, one thing is certain: It will either mean happiness for the rest of their lives, or certain death before the year has passed. How far will they go to protect the secret they know will kill them?

A Choice by Ren_Anders {_}

(Son-Fatherly Feels)

After everything, when everything is suppose to be smooth sailing, Jake gets a call. His dad has just died. But it doesn’t matter, right? He was an asshole and he refuses to give him his grief. OR Ice and Jake have a heart to heart about shitty dads and how to overcome their deaths

Family Ties by CryoCait {_}

Jake knows what policies there are in place to avoid familial conflict of interest, he's lived it for years. He knows how sacred those policies are to keeping his family sane. So logically it follows that he understands how dangerous this mission must be for the Navy to look aside and allow the entire Mitchell-Kazansky family to be a part of it. Now he just needed to make sure they all made it home in one piece. Or Jake is a Kazansky just as much as Bradley is a Mitchell, and Mav never pulled Bradley's papers. Now, the close-knit but under the radar family all must work together for the first time during the Uranium Plant mission and keep their relationships to each other under wraps while trying to make sure everyone survives this suicide mission.

Bikes and Bruises by WhisperingNights {M}

(Icemav’s son)

"You aren’t taking one of my bikes to the HR Drag Strip, Jacob, end of story,” Mav responded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t be racing, it's just a show,” Jake protested. Mav snorted “Yeah, right.” “I won’t! The show starts at 9-” “How many times are you going to make me say no, son?” Mav asked.

Heartbeats & Bird Nests Series by SamHeartfilia {T}{E}

Two Men and a Baby by multifangirl11 {_}

(Mav’s son & Icemav)

Jake is Pete's son, Tom is a good friend who hopes to become more.

Keeping Dreams Alive, 1999 Hero's (I Ain't Worried Right Now) by Luxu1230 {_}

(Icemav’s son)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is the biological son of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and Tom "Iceman" Kazasky but was kidnapped not that long after being born all he has of them is a small f-14 Tomcat silver necklace which he keeps hidden. He knows his "parents" are his real "Parents" though they don't exactly know that but when he overhears a certain conversation between three people he starts suspecting of who his true parents maybe and from the sounds of it they definitely didn't abandon him.

Been searching for a(n Ice)man by crowstakeflight {G}

Jake did not really look like either of his parents. Sure, he could see some of his mom in his features when he looked in the mirror, but the majority of them are from someone he’s never seen before. It didn’t take much to bring the question up to his parents and they answered honestly. Or, Jake's biological father is Iceman and this is what happens after he finds out.

Living after midnight, loving 'til the morning, then I'm gone. by WaffleToaster {E}

Nobody thought their actions back in the winter of '85 and beyond would end up having these consequences. A story woven from past mistakes, indecisions and loss that eventually helped shape his world and upbringing. But despite all the hardships one thing was for certain, Jake Seresin was destined to fly and he knew the Navy was where he belonged. A slightly altered kind of retelling that includes Jake 'Hangman' Seresin being Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky’s lost son, a story about revelations, love, loss, friendship and most importantly family. Where two rivals find out they may not be so different from one another and their journey to understanding, unity, serenity and eventually love. First by hating, then by loving and finally understanding and helping one another find a place they both deserve. Just not in the same order.

A Kazansky Redemption by WhisperingNights {E}

This is a Kazansky love story. Can one win back the love of their life? Can the other find love in a storm of hate? **** “Sarah, that’s been over for 26 years, besides your my wife, remember? It wouldn’t be good to go tell a man I love him now would it?” Ice grinning playfully at her. She gave a small laugh that quickly turned into a cough, causing him to lean toward her in concern. “I’m alright, I’m alright, sit down,” she rasped, waving him off, then she looked at him “I love you Tom, but we both know our love was foraged in partnership nothing else. We did what was necessary for the safety of ourselves and your career. But it’s 2017, it's easier now. Sexuality rights are better, people are more open. I’ll never get to have a wife, but you Tom, you deserve to have a husband.” ***** Jake’s eyes landed on a figure in an awful Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. His irritation instantly grew, the universe really must hate him.

Suburban Heaven by slyther_ing {T}

“I’m in love with a man who wears jorts,” Jake deadpans, “I can’t sink any lower.” “You saw your dad’s frosted tips, right?” Mav snorts. I heard that pings on both their phones, and then You loved my hair, honey. “Please don’t flirt in the group chat,” Jake groans and he escapes to make dinner. He’ll do better tomorrow.

[satashiiwrites]

Snippet Sunday/Summer Fic Preview

Wasn’t tagged but getting some writing done now that my social calendar is more open on this lovely Sunday morning. If you’d liked to be tagged when I post/update this fic, please like, comment or reblog and I’ll take that as permission to add you to the tag list for updates.

Happy Pride!

Title: Welcome to the Jungle

Fandom: 911, Jumanji

Pairings: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Robbie Nash/Danny Buckley, past Eddie Diaz/Shannon Diaz mentioned

Fic Summary:  From the concrete jungle to the actual jungle, five players will be summoned to Jumanji to save it from the wicked Van Pelt.

Rating: Explicit (sex, stereotyped villain, implied/mentioned child neglect) 

Tags/warnings: explicit sex, canon-typical violence, Jumanji AU, time travel fix it, slow burn, long fic, pod fic welcome, deviating from canon where it suits the story, canon timeline is a mess and we’re just not going to stress about it, author doesn’t do straight up adaptations, eventual happy ending, mention of divorce and canon character deaths, aged up Robbie and Brook, mentions of child neglect/abuse from the Buckley parents,

Mom is off somewhere, supposedly talking to his doctors, when the play therapist Tiffany stops by, announcing her presence with a happy little series of knocks and a smile. “Danny! How are you doing today?”

Danny likes Tiffany—she always remembers to call him Danny instead of Daniel, like Mom insists everyone call him because she detests nicknames. Tiffany also always has a smile for him when he’s having bad treatment days. She’s the one who snuck him in his favorite stuffed animal, a golden eagle he’d dubbed Aquila after one of his early babysitters had read him a book about constellations. Aquila is currently standing guard over Evan’s crib since Danny can’t be there, which is more important than being with Danny while he’s in the hospital. 

“Hey, Tiffany. I’m doing okay.”

Tiffany’s blue eyes narrow as she inspects him playfully before she breaks and winks at him, and the smile returns. “Just okay?”

Danny shrugs. He’s stuck here, and they’d had the first hint of spring weather this week. He can’t wait to make a flower crown for Evan like Maddie had made for him last year. 

“Aw, buddy, I get it. Hopefully, the doctors will let you fly the coop soon.”

“Mom’s talking to them.”

“Well, I got a great selection of things to keep you busy while they talk. We even got a donation of a few of the new Game Boys yesterday. How’d you like one of those?”

“What? Really?” Danny perks up. “Which games do you have?”

Tiffany hands him a brand new Game Boy. “We’ve got a few games. Zelda, Mario, Kirby,” she says idly as she sorts through the cartridges. “We’ve got multiples of those but only one of this jungle adventure game, so it’s the only one if you want that one.”

“Jungle game?”

“Ju…man…ji? I’m not sure if I’m saying that right.”

“Let me see it. You said it’s an adventure game?”

“I think so? The label looks adventurous.”

“Give me that one and Zelda.”

“Here ya go. I’ll be back tomorrow to switch you out if you beat both of them by then. Stay out of trouble, kiddo.”

Rolling his eyes at Tiffany’s playful admonition, Danny puts Zelda in first as he’s heard a lot about it. Soon, he’s joyfully adventuring as Link and spends a few hours running around Hyrule. Mom comes back and leaves again, which she’s been doing more and more. She’s spending a lot of time with that one doctor—Dr. Barnes. 

Dr. Barnes is young and has been the biggest advocate for Danny getting a stem cell transplant. He also has the same blue eyes as Evan. 

Danny’s heard the nurses say that more than once. 

Link’s adventures prove to be preoccupying through the dinner hour, and Danny manages to eat a few chicken nuggets before refusing more food (hospital food is generally gross, but even they can’t screw up chicken nuggets). Mom checks in on him briefly before saying something about going to call Dad and then disappears again, leaving him alone.  

There aren’t any good cartoons at night, so he picks up the Game Boy again and decides to try the other game—Jumanji. The screen blinks, and drums echo through his room, startling Danny. It sounds like it’s coming from the walls, not the game in his hands, which vibrates synchronously with the increasing tempo as if the drums are coming closer. 

“Wow,” he says as the drumbeat climaxes and abruptly cuts off, the room silent around him. “This game is wicked.”

Text scrolls across the screen, and he reads it aloud, faking a British accent as it seems to fit the game’s mood. “For those who seek to find a way to leave their world behind, choose your avatar.”

[j-nipper-95]

Fic Rec (plus late Six Sentence Sunday) Monday!

Ok, so I’m late posting this, but oh well. It’s being posted!

I’m not sure if my tumblr notifications are working properly at the moment (I know I missed at least one tag last week, so if I’ve missed your tags the last couple of weeks I’m sorry, I’m not ignoring you, tumblr is acting up!) but I’m still alive. I’m back, and I have words to share!

July’s Camp NaNoWriMo has been amazing for getting words down for COTTA, and I am finally back on track with following the El Dorado plot line again! I managed to double the word count goal I had by 1am this morning, so all in all, a very productive month. So without further ado, here’s six(teen) sentences from that! Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy @theearlgreymage and @hushed-chorus (and anyone else if I’ve missed your posts!!)

Baz POV

“Get in the back,” he grunts, nodding at the truck. “I’ll cover you.”

“With what, Snow?”

“Just do it.”

No. I won’t leave him.

“They’ll shoot you on sight,” I say (I plead, I almost beg. Don’t make me face the thought of losing you, Simon). “I can’t get over there without your help,” I add. If there’s one thing I can count on right now, it’ll be Simon’s inner heroism.

“Bet you can,” he says, without thinking.

“Two shillings say I can’t.”

The challenge in my voice is enough to make him turn to glare at me. And knowing how much it irritates him, I cock an eyebrow and tilt my chin up to look down my nose at him.

Snow opens his mouth to argue but snaps it shut when we hear the Now Next almost at the corner we’ve just run around.

“You’re on.”

And then Jas also tagged me in a fic rec post, so here’s a few I’ve been enjoying recently!

Someone Wicked by @artsyunderstudy ([E, 53.9k, Carry On, complete]

I had the chance to beta read this fic with @cutestkilla and oh my God it was a rollercoaster of emotions and tender smut and I loved every single second of it!

Normal AU, complicated family relationships, religious guilt, chronic pain rep, escort Simon, this fic had me hooked from the second Ashton pitched it to me! It’s angsty and soft and emotional in all of the ways we’ve come to expect from her fics, and it ticks all of the boxes.

Ashton managed to tackle some really tough emotions and relationship dynamics in this one, and I don’t really want to say any more and risk spoiling any of it.

Check it out if you haven’t yet, but just remember it is explicit with plenty of on page smut/sex scenes!

More Than Friends by @fatalfangirl [E, 19.9k, Carry On, incomplete]

This fic updated today. It was a good day!

Simon and Baz are roommates, and having survived lockdown together their feelings are becoming much more than platonic. Both of them like the other, but neither is willing to compromise their friendship.

Another Normal AU, this time ‘friends with benefits’, featuring lots of unhealthy coping mechanisms, a sexually promiscuous Simon (which I for one am loving!), Baz as a writer, and some new tags that were added today (trigger warnings for mentions of past ab*se and panic attacks).

This fic is updating currently, and I cannot wait to see what Stacy has in store for the boys! (Again, it’s explicit, so minors begone!)

What Remains After the Storm by @hushed-chorus [M, 86.3k, Carry On, complete]

When I tell you this fic had (and still has) me in a fricken chokehold, that’s an understatement! I still think about this fic on a daily basis, and Demi’s writing is simply stunning.

A fantasy/historical fiction(ish) AU, with fae, curses, much pining, and plenty of cute goats.

Simon is a goatherd on the edge of a fishing town, and while he’s not entirely trusted by the townsfolk, he’s not outright despised either. He works the land, and always pays his tithe to the fae. Until he pulls something from the ocean. Or rather, someone. When Baz flees his fae captors and returns home, he and Simon have to work together to help him remember his humanity.

This fic. Oh. My. GOD! Every update had me on the edge of my seat. Do yourself a favour, and go and read this fic. Especially as Demi is considering writing more in the same AU!

Strictly Professional by @palimpsessed [E, 38.5k, Carry On, complete]

This fic completed a couple of days ago, and I didn’t have time to finish reading it until this morning, and my god was it worth the wait!

Simon is a new recruit at Baz’s firm, and he’s joined the company just in time for the professional conference. But not in time to get his own hotel room. Cue only one bed forced proximity fast burn get together!

This fic pays off so quickly in the best way possible! The emotions Pal has managed to get into such a short space of time for the boys is incredible, and had me so invested in this relationship! Baz trying to remain professional, Simon’s unabashed flirting, neither of them managing to keep their hands off each other. Again, every single box ticked!

The Selkie and his Boy by @hushed-chorus [T, 21.8k, Carry On, complete]

It’s very rare that I pick up a T or G rated SnowBaz fic. I usually go for M and above, but once again, Demi had me hook line and sinker with this one.

Every year, Baz and his family holiday in Cornwall (can I just say how much I love Demi’s writing about Cornwall? It’s so nice to see the South West represented in fic!! As a Dorset girl who holidayed a lot in Cornwall as a kid, I love this so much!). Everything goes to plan … most of the time. One year, he meets a boy with bronze hair and blue eyes that utterly captivates him, and who he expects to spend the whole summer getting to know.

But the boy never shows up the next day. Or the next. Or indeed for the next several years.

Flash forward seven years, and an embittered Baz finally meets Simon again, and finds out why Simon never came back all those years ago.

An AU where Simon is a selkie, Baz is still a vampire, and Mordelia is unabashedly sassy!

Tagging (for both SSS and fic recs): @artsyunderstudy @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @aristocratic-otter @palimpsessed @larkral @orange-peony @dragoneggos @prettylightsbigcity @stardustasincocaine @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ebbpettier @martsonmars @erzbethluna @hushed-chorus

[haejjoon]

I just finished Royal and I've been really enjoying the swap au, and your take on the characters!

You said you had lots of thoughts about Yusuke too? 👀

WE REALLY ARE TAKING TURNS WITH CHARACTER ANALYSIS i should just make it a tag at this point. ykw im gonna do that.

okay, onto yusuke:

I adore him. completely and utterly. he’s my favorite boy apart from akeshu and for WILDLY obvious reasons: he’s fun, SUCH a character, and his story arc feels whimsy but not so out there that it feels unrealistic. adding onto the fact that i’m an artist myself, gunning to go pro, and he’s so relatable it hurts. straps yusuke onto the operating table let’s do this

1) his struggles relating to madarame

one thing that i’ll say right off the bat is that i HATE how the pts approached him. its nonsensical. even if ryuji and ann aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed how the hell did they think that approaching a stranger and saying “YOU’RE BEING ABUSED WE CAN HELP YOU FIGHT YOUR ABUSER” was going to turn out well in any way possible?? the writing suffers from something similar during ryuji’s run with akiren to question the volleyball team members. ryuji and ann, as dull as they may be, are abuse victims themselves; surely they’d understand why abuse victims would be hesitant to say anything? especially when a stranger gets all up in your face about it.

but apart from that: i love how yusuke dealt with all of it. i’m not saying that him becoming defensive over madarame was a good thing, but in terms of realism, it just Makes Sense. children raised by abusive guardians often aren’t aware how they’re taken advantage of, and when they’re as isolated from society as yusuke is, their obvious first instinct is to defend those who raised them. it’s like rapunzel about mother gothel from disney’s tangled. of course yusuke defended madarame’s ‘love’; he never knew what love was.

it isn’t even only that. yusuke and madarame are both branded as very traditionally japanese, from how they speak to how they dress. it’s even shown in their primary art medium—traditional painting and japanese oil work. i’m not japanese, but i am korean, and if there’s anything i’ve learned while growing up in a traditional asian household: it’s very suffocating. the filial piety you learn from high school history class isn’t just a far-off tradition in the old ages, it’s EXTREMELY prevalent even today. i can’t even count the amount of times i was put down or chastised for simply speaking out of turn, and that was with my parents trying to adapt to the american standards of respect.

in this context, it makes even more sense for yusuke to defend madarame so vehemently. it’s literally been ingrained into him growing up. the entire “parents are right, children are wrong” mentality is SO strong with the Growing Up Asian experience, and that’s coming from a korean-american. i can’t even imagine the kind of shit yusuke’s had to go through.

and it’s with all that that i find it so cathartic and admirable that yusuke finally managed to recognize madarame for the shitbag he is. genuinely, the amount of brainwashing he’d been forced through should have made it impossible for him to fight back, but my boy did it—and in the most stylish way possible, might i add!!! he stuck it to madarame and finally recognized his own worth. that’s incredible. i’m so proud of him.

but what makes all that even BETTER is his CONFIDANT STORY, and OH MY GOD I’M NEVER SHUTTING UP ABOUT HOW AMAZING IT IS MOVING ON TO POINT TWO

2. HIS CONFIDANT STORY OHHHH MY GOD

one of the biggest opinions ive heard about yusuke’s confidant story is that it doesn’t make sense or that it’s in his own head. SLAMS ATTORNEY DESK. OBJECTION YOUR HONOR ITS TIME FOR THE CROSS EXAMINATION

of COURSE it’s all in his own head. his confidant begins after madarame’s arrested and he finally, finally gets to be his own person and live on his own. the physical threat is gone!! but one of the most amazing things about his story arc is the depiction that childhood trauma never truly goes away. madarame being gone for good doesn’t automatically mean that yusuke’s mentally safe and sound. in fact, it fucks with him even more that he’s free—he doesn’t know how to live on his own, or how to make art for himself.

he’s literally lived his entire life for someone else; how can you expect him to suddenly go out and do whatever he wants? until this point in time, yusuke’s wants didn’t matter. he didn’t matter. the only important thing to him was pumping out art for madarame to display at his next show JUST TO SURVIVE. to EAT. i’m gonna get into his whole thing with eating in a second but i’m just putting that out there: it’s all in his own head because it has to be. he has to grow mentally in order for him to to do anything.

with that point out of the way: yusuke doesn’t forgive madarame for what he’s done, especially with his mother, but he also just has no idea what to feel about him in general? there’s two clashing images: one, of the teacher who (in yusuke’s view) loved and raised him, and one, of the monster who let his mother die in cold blood to get his hands on her personal artwork. and you might say “oh well yusuke’s being delusional again because madarame never truly loved him.” no. it isn’t delusion. it’s how yusuke’s been raised. he didn’t recognize madarame’s abuse because he never registered it as abuse. he was never taught that it was abuse. unlike shiho and ann who knew that what kamoshida was doing was wrong, yusuke never had anyone to tell him that madarame was taking advantage of him.

yusuke didn’t have anyone.

throughout his confidant story, he agonizes over his purpose for creating art at all—it makes sense, as his only purpose thus far was to put food on the table and to avoid verbal abuse from his father figure. yes, he said that his only purpose for creating art in the past was because he wished to put beauty in the world like his mother did with sayuri, but is that really all there was to it? i don’t think so. yusuke created art to survive, and coped with it by staring at his “sensei”’s magnum opus and telling himself that he was creating things for the sake of creation, not to give in to his survivalist instinct. it was a coping mechanism. i’ll live and die by this.

and this is also why he crumbles so much over that art director coming to him to monetize his work. he’s now aware that what he was striving for in the past was fake. he wants to truly pursue that goal again, to create something beautiful just for the sake of creating, but now he’s been thrust into the real world—one of capitalism, one where corruption thrives. the pure art he wants to make just doesn’t exist here. it never did. and that realization destroys him.

now if you Didn’t Know, i’m also an artist. i’m literally the same age as yusuke is (if not a little older), and that truth hurts. the fact that i have to make art in order to feed and clothe and keep myself warm hurts. there’s nothing i’d like better than to just make things i want to make, but i can’t, not in this world. his struggle is so realistic, and it rings so deep. every time i experience his story it always leaves me feeling bittersweet.

but then!!! at the end of his story!!!! he comes to a very important realization.

all of that’s okay.

it’s okay to profit off of your work. it’s okay to make things other people like. it doesn’t make you any less of a person to seek compensation for your work. it’s doesn’t make you any less of a human to seek praise for the amazing things you create. it’s okay.

and to the non-artists out there who might not understand why this is such a groundbreaking revelation: artists are constantly being put down in this capitalistic society. art is literally everywhere you look—it’s in the buildings you occupy, in the subways you ride, in the words you read, in the shows you consume. art is one of the cornerstones for what makes humans human, and those who create such beautiful things are never given credit.

just look at the ai discourse happening recently. look at how artists are treated when they stress about having art stolen or watermarks erased. to people like us, our creations are proof of us being alive. it’s our living mark on the world, one that will remain (physically or digitally) long after we ourselves pass away. but we’re constantly, constantly told that “it’s not that deep”, “you’re being selfish”, yadda yadda yadda. we’re shit on simply because we want to survive in this hellish fucking world. and that builds up.

so many aspiring artists out there give up too soon because of this. because art isn’t profitable, because we have to survive, because no one appreciates what you do no matter how beautiful it is or how much work you put in.

but then, persona 5 finally turned around, and told an entire generation of aspiring artists that their work was important. you are important. it’s okay to profit off of what you do.

that’s fucking incredible. it’s also a really, REALLY low bar, but it’s something. yusuke coming to the realization that creating art for himself is okay, whether it be for monetization or praise, was so cathartic to me. i’m sure other artists feel the same way.

his story arc is a fucking fantastic depiction of how much artists suffer, no matter what medium or era.

…….. and then people turn around and shit on it because they don’t understand its intricacies. as expected.

sigh.

3. the theme of going hungry

throughout the entirety of the game, yusuke’s depicted as the quintessential ‘starving artist’. he’s always hungry, and never knows how to budget his money, and that shit’s hilarious but also really, really fucking sad.

i remember reading a fantastic yusuke study on ao3 a couple years back—forgot who the author was, but it’s called “the emperor”—and it said something along the lines of this: “you have to eat in order to starve.”

like.

oh my GOD.

and it plays in so terrifically with the experience of creating art, as well. you have to eat in order to starve; you have to taste in order to crave. you have to experience praise in order to want it more. i’ve gone through dry spells where no one saw what i made, and it only made me go hungry for that appreciation again—and then i get it, just a little taste of it. i keep making content. i keep on going and going and going just to get the smallest bit of acknowledgement.

for those who’ve ever gone hungry before: would you be able to turn down a feast, if offered? would you be able to pace yourself, or would you inhale it quick as you can? if you’ve ever eaten a large meal after being hungry for a day or two, you’d know that it would immediately come back to bite you in the ass. you’d stop eating for a bit, you’d get hungry again, and then you’d scarf down another gigantic meal, rinse and repeat.

the correct choice here is to moderate yourself. take it slow. eat enough to be full, and pace yourself so that you won’t have to go horribly hungry to eat again.

yusuke, starved for appreciation, suddenly finds himself with the offer of his life. he’ll be sponsored by one of the most influential art directors in all of japan. he’ll be successful; he’ll have a scholarship, he’ll never, ever have to go hungry again—

and then he turns it down.

because this entire time, the hunger allegory was about success. you get the opportunity of a lifetime, and you invest everything you have into it—you eat and you eat and you eat until you can’t anymore, and then you find that that the satisfaction of finally feeling full has long since gone, and now you’re hungry again. you’re still a nobody. no one remembers your one-off success.

yusuke refuses the incredible offer, and decides to build his success slowly. he won’t take it all in stride. he’ll pace himself until he doesn’t have to be starving to eat.

that’s FUCKING brilliant.

i have so much more to say about yusuke than just this—how i feel about him (being, in my opinion, incredibly autistic-coded) as an artist with adhd, how his behavior is treated by the phantom thieves, how he plays into the phantom thieves as the sole creative mind of the group—but if i get into all that i’ll literally be typing on my ipad forever. i’ve already been sitting here for thirty minutes instead of finishing up chapter 5 of ex machina. oh god i love yusuke so much.

if you somehow came across this gigantic character dissection on your tl, hey hello hi, i also write stories! currently working on a swap au in my spare time, you might’ve heard of it. ex machina by hhaeyeun on ao3. check it out <3

thanks for the opportunity anon i’m So Sorry to have filled your inbox with this absolute beefcake of a reply. have a lovely day <3

[lunarsands]

ESMP Fanfic: A Garden's Path - Ch 3

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Bubbles the Dog, Sir Carlos, appearances by the rest of the cast of Empires SMP S1, featuring blaze-hybrid emperor TangoTek, and introducing: The Children of Mythland (specific characters to be tagged when they appear in each chapter)

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady/Smallishbeans, Shubble/Katherine Elizabeth, TangoTek & SolidarityGaming, Joey Graceffa/Xornoth

Tags: Empires SMP S1 AU, scosage, adoption, fluff, wholesome, so much wholesome fluff you would not believe, a bit of angst here and there, Sausage has a few nightmares for Plot reasons, acknowledgement of amputation (not sure how else to tag that but just in case)

WARNINGS: fantasy racism (human v elf), loss of parent (with adoption inevitably comes orphans), minor character death in a later chapter

Chapter Summary: Sausage and Scott set out to add to their family and find quite the boisterous little elven girl to take up that place. Meet the adorable, unstoppable force that is Liana of Mythland.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter One ] [ Chapter Two ]

[A/N: This character sprung fully formed from my head like Athena from Zeus. She was the first to get an official name due to a small one-off scene that eventually led to this whole story.] [To CallMeSausage on Ao3: I see your comment on Chapter Two, and I acknowledge it. XD ]

---

Chapter Three – The First Princess

The orphanage looked somewhat similar to the one they had previously visited, if not smaller and with a yellow thatched roof. As before, Scott made introductions in Elvish, and also as before some of the children shied away from Sausage. He took it in stride, and quietly walked around looking at some drawings that had been placed on the walls, hoping to acclimate the children to his presence and show he was harmless. He could hear Scott chatting with someone young but avoided the temptation to glance over, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt a possible candidate. He heard a negative response and tried not to worry. It might be too much to hope for another scenario where a child was more curious than put off by him being a human.

Yet instead, what Sausage heard next was a somewhat brash little voice calling up at him, “I’m having a tea party but no one wants to play tea party with me! You’re not playing with anyone, so do you want to come to my tea party?”

He looked down to see an indigo-eyed girl of perhaps somewhere around six or seven years old, with long, sapphire-colored hair that looped down one side of her pinkish-hued face. She tucked the loop behind her ear as she looked back at him. Sausage smiled gently. Well, maybe this was a good sign. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Without a second’s hesitation she grabbed his right hand and pulled him toward a small table. There were some small chairs already occupied by a few dolls arranged around it, but after she let go of him, she started moving them to make more space. “You’re too big – they always tell the bigger kids not to sit on these chairs or else they’ll break them! So, the dollies go here. You can sit in this spot, an’ I’ll sit over there an’ pour the tea. An’ then we talk about our fav’rite things ‘cause that’s what the growed-ups always do when they come here. Oh, an’ I’m Liana. I’m six an’ a half. We’re s’posed to tell our names an’ how old we are even when we’re just playing.” She gave a big sigh. “They don’t always play tea party, either. Okay, let me get you a cup.”

As he knelt in the indicated spot, Sausage couldn’t help finding her to be quite endearing. “I can get you another guest if you’d like.”

“Okay! I can take a cup from a dollie. They don’t act’lly use them, you know.”

Sausage turned and waved to get Scott’s attention. “Scott! Come have tea with us!” The elf raised an eyebrow, intrigued by where Sausage had ended up, but smiled as he walked over. “Scott, this is our hostess, Liana. Liana, this is my husband, Scott.”

“Hi. You didn’t say your name, you know. Let me move another dollie.” The little girl briefly wrestled one of the chairs to make room for Scott.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. My name is Sausage.”

She stopped and giggled. “That’s a silly name! But I had a friend named Buttercup, which is also silly, ‘cause a whole cup of butter is a lot! But she was nice, so it wasn’t a bad name. Just kind of silly. She went home last year. Okay, tea time, everybody sit.” Liana bustled back over to her hostess spot.

Scott nudged the chair the rest of the way over so he could kneel, then he sat back. He watched her pick up a small, unglazed clay tea pot that had been roughly painted by obviously childish hands. And was obviously empty. “That’s a nice tea pot, Liana. Did you paint it yourself?”

“No, I gots it from Melne when she went home. She gots it from somebody else, an’ they gots it from somebody else. I’m gonna give it to somebody when I go home so they can play tea party, too.” She poured the pretend-tea into the equally unglazed cups. “It’s hot so be careful!” She poured her own cup then sat and leaned over to blow on the cup. “Okay, now it’s colder.”

Scott and Sausage obliged by picking up their cups and pretending to take sips. Sausage snuck an amused smile over at Scott, then said, “This is very good tea. Thank you, Liana.”

“Yup! Okay, now you tell me some of your fav’rite things, then I’ll tell you more of mine.” She took a dainty pretend-sip from her cup then looked over at them expectantly.

Sausage decided to go ahead and talk about Bubbles, while Scott mentioned magic and cut to the chase by conjuring a small snow flurry over the table. Liana said she thought it was neat, then listed off her favorite dolls from around the table, but especially her bunny plushie that had always been with her and not a hand-me-down from the older kids and that one was on her bed because bunny needed a nap today. Then she asked, “Do you gots any other kids? Sometimes the growed-ups talk about their other kids an’ aren’t act’lly sure they want more.”

“We have two boys,” Sausage replied tentatively. “They’re at home, but we asked them if they would like to have a sister and they said yes.”

“Boys, huh?” Liana looked like she was considering the matter very seriously. “Well, boys don’t always like to play tea party, but that’s okay. ‘Scuse me.” She abruptly stood up and ran over to the caretaker across the room. “Hi, can I has cookies, please? I want to serve my guests. They need cookies with their tea!”

A giggle escaped Sausage. “Oh, she is precious. She doesn’t seem bothered about my arm or the… other thing.” He briefly reached up to touch his ear. “What do you think?”

“I think we have a match” Scott said, watching Liana skip back over clutching a container. She carefully set it down, then fished out one cookie at a time to place on the plates in front of them.

“Okay, wait for me to get back, then we can eat.” She carefully put the cover back on the container then returned it to the caretaker. “I only took one each, so’s not gonna spoil their dinner!” Once she returned, she dunked her cookie into her pretend tea and started munching on it. She then giggled and leaned toward them to whisper conspiratorially, “Sometimes I play tea party so’s I can gets extra cookies.” She giggled again, pleased to have shared her secret, then sat back to finish eating.

Sausage muffled another laugh, covering it up by hastily biting into his cookie. Scott ate his with a little more grace, then said, “We would be happy to get you your own tea set – and cookies – if you’d like to come live with us.”

“Can I gets one with bunnies on it?”

“You could even get one that you can paint yourself and put anything you want on it,” Scott replied. He reckoned they could probably request a specially decorated one from the potter, though.

“Okay. Can I bring my bunny, or do I has to hands-me-down it first?” She looked a little consternated by the choice.

Sausage could see the indecision in her eyes and felt he should encourage her in some way, as the tradition seemed important to her. “You can bring everything that is yours. But we can get you some new things, if you’d like to leave anything as a gift to someone else, like this tea set.”

“I really like my bunny… But I have a dress that Silvilana said she liked. She’s smaller than me but she can wear it when she gets bigger!”

“That’s very nice of you,” Scott said. “Thank you for the tea. We need to talk with the other grown-ups but we’ll see you in a little while.”

“Okay. Thanks for coming to my tea party. You were nice guests. Time to clean up!” Liana stacked the plates and hurriedly began to bring the assortment of items to a set of wooden cubby holes along the wall. She was trying to line up the dolls on top of them – not quite tall enough to reach – when another little girl came over to her. As Scott and Sausage walked toward the caretaker, they heard her call out, “Silvilana! I might gets two daddies! One of ‘em gots a metal arm!”

Scott was now the one to suppress a laugh. “Oh, my gods. She’s perfect. She’s just like you.”

“I don’t remember if I was like that at that age.”

“No, I’m talking about now.”

Sausage gave him a look questioning that observation. Scott gave him a frank look in return. Sausage bobbed his head for a moment as if in debate, then held his hands out in a gesture admitting the elf was right.

Soon paperwork was finalized and once again the royal stamp was eyed by the caretaker. “You’re… absolutely sure about her?” they asked, attempting to be tactful. “She’s not quite, well, princess material.”

Sausage deftly snapped the stamp up into his hand then whisked it away into his pocket. “We’re not looking for a princess. We’re looking for a daughter.” He smiled pleasantly and turned to go help with Liana’s bag, with Scott not far behind.

The little girl sat in a chair near the main door, humming and swinging her feet. She hopped up as they approached. She hugged her bunny plush tightly. “Time to go home! Do we have to go far?”

“It’s a little far,” Sausage admitted. “But we’ll get there before it’s dark out.” He then gave pause and lowered himself to one knee to be closer to her level. “I just want to ask you one thing before we go. You’ve been very nice about my arm. It does come off so it can be fixed, so you’ll see me without it. Is that okay?”

She looked over at his prosthetic thoughtfully, then placed her hand on the transparent crystal in the middle of his forearm. “A dollie’s arm gots pulled off one time but gots sewed back on. I could still play with her without it.”

“I also can’t sleep with it on, so it isn’t just when it needs to be fixed.”

“Well, yeah! Metal can’t be comfy to sleep on!”

Sausage smiled broadly at her. He felt Scott’s hand on his shoulder. “You have a very good point. Are you all ready to go?” He stood up and gave Scott a weaker smile. The elf patted his shoulder in response.

“Umm…” She turned to the door, then looked back toward the playroom. “I put away all the toys like I’m s’posed to. I put all my clothes in there. I have my bunny. I think I’m okay to go now.” She hugged the doll again, then reached up for Sausage’s hand while holding the bunny close with the other. “Let’s go home, um… Sau-sage an’, um…” When she sounded out his name it was the first time she seemed uncertain.

“You can call me Papa,” he offered.

Scott moved to get the door for them. “I’m called ‘Dad’.” Remembering what she had said to the other girl, he added, “Daddy is fine, too.”

“Papa, and Daddy. Okay.” Liana nodded, then quietly walked along out to the carriage. She wasn’t as enamored with it as the boys had been, instead only keeping a tight hold on her bunny as she watched Scott climb in. He took her bag from Sausage then held out his arms to help her in when Sausage lifted her up to reach the step more easily. She sat between them and once the carriage set off, she began humming again.

Scott let a few minutes pass before striking up conversation. “Liana, can I ask what you think about princesses?” Sausage shot him a bit of a worried glance; he had thought they would bring that up closer to home.

“They live in big castles an’ have pretty dresses an’ have pet horsies. They don’t ride the horsies too much, they just sit on them an’ look pretty, an’ a prince walks the horsie around so she doesn’t have to walk after he gives her a special shoe.”

There was clearly a very specific picture book that she associated the word princess with.

“Princesses can actually do all sorts of different things, including ride a horse around,” Scott said. “The big castle part is true, though.”

“Are we going to see a big castle? An’ meet a princess? That would be neat.” Her face fell a little bit. “I don’t gots a dress pretty enough to meet a princess. Everybody looks really pretty when they gets to meet a prince or princess.”

Sausage commented with a smile, “You’ll soon get to meet two princes, and they won’t mind if you have a fancy dress or not. But we can get you one.”

She perked up. “Can it be purple? I like purple. Melne had a purple dress, not as pretty as a princess’, but it was nice.”

“It can definitely be purple,” Scott replied. “If we get back home with enough time, we might be able to find one and you could wear it when you see the princes.”

“Are they your princes?” Liana asked with all the curiosity of the world in her voice, while leaving them stunned that she managed to make such a guess. “You said you gots two boys. So, two princes!”

“Ah, ehm,” Scott stammered. “How did you get that idea?”

She pointed at Sausage. “You’re tall like a king.”

“Me?” Sausage tried to sound innocent. “But he’s taller! I didn’t know height was a requirement for kings.”

“No, it’s ‘cause you’re like this.” Liana stood up and carefully walked toward the other seats, mindful of the motion of the carriage. She squared her shoulders and then sat, poised confidently with her back straight and head held high – a complete change from her own subconscious slouch when she had been sitting between them.

“I – I am??” Sausage asked in confusion, unaware of his apparently ingrained royal posture.

“When you sat at the tea party!” she insisted. “’Cause you were being serious! You were serious about playing pretend!” A grin spread across her face.

Scot failed to not share that grin as he turned to his husband. “She has you, there. Well, Liana, you have us figured out. We’re the rulers of Mythland. We wanted to keep it a secret so no one would think we were super-special.”

Liana’s face scrunched up into an exaggerated ‘thinking mode’. “Hmm. Kings pretending to be reg’lar people but are from a land of myths…” She peered over at them. “Are you also heroes who saved the world from a BIG monster that would’ve eated everything if somebody wasn’t brave enough to stop it?”

Sausage hastily hugged Scott to cover up their mutually shocked reactions, lamenting, “Scott, we have to keep her now! She knows our secret! We have no choice but to make her a princess who will be destined to save the kingdom from an even scarier monster in the future! Thank goodness we found her in time!”

Liana giggled. “No, that’s just pretend! I can be a reg’lar princess just having tea parties! An’ maybe ride a horsie.”

~*~

When the report came from the watchtower that a carriage was approaching, Bubbles and the boys ran out toward the stable yard – with Sir Carlos flapping in their wake, admonishing them to slow down in case one of them tripped.

Due to this, they all arrived after the carriage had parked, although they witnessed Sausage lifting an elven girl who was clutching a plush bunny doll down off the carriage steps. She spotted the boys and dashed over while Sausage was busy taking her bag from Scott. “Hi! You must be the princes! I didn’t have a dress for meeting princes an’ we didn’t have time to stop an’ look for one like Daddy said ‘cause we didn’t want to be late to dinner, so I’ll get one later. I’m Liana, an’ I’m six an’ a half!”

“Hi, Liana. I’m Azahar. I turned twelve last month, but… you don’t have to keep telling everyone your age now that you have a family.”

“Oh.” She looked up at him, baffled. “That’s what I was told I was s’posed to do when I meet new people. You’re my brothers ‘cause you’re Papa and Daddy’s sons, but you’re still new to me!” She then pivoted toward Elowen. “Hi!”

Her gregariousness seemed a bit much for the other boy, who stammered, “H-Hi, Liana. I’m Elowen. It – It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah! And this doggy is Bubbles, right? Hi, Bubbles! And this is—” Liana paused and peered down at Sir Carlos. “Nobody told me about a pet chicken! ‘Specially a chicken with armor! Papa!” She turned her head to look for Sausage. “Are you a king who has all sorts of knights, too? ‘Cause this chicken looks like a knight!”

Sir Carlos clucked – almost sounding more like a chuckle. “Young mistress Liana, I am Sir Carlos. I am, indeed, a knight.”

The little girl spun back to face him with her eyes wide. “You’re a talking chicken?! This place is like a fairytale story! Bubbles, are you magical, too??”

Elowen tugged on Azahar’s sleeve as the older boy stood stunned by the sheer amount of vivacious energy coming off the girl. Elowen whispered, “And I thought I got excited about cool things. Wait until she hears about the dragon…”

“There’s a pet DRAGON, too?!” Liana exclaimed.

Azahar now turned an amused smile toward his parents. Sausage hefted Liana’s bag over his shoulder and strolled past the children up the steps, trying to give off a casual air. “You, Liana, seem to have exceptional hearing. The story about the dragon will have to wait – I think I can smell dinner from here! Let’s rest up from all that travel and we can all talk more inside.”

“Okay!” Liana followed at his heels. “Is there a special princess chair? I’ve seen pictures of princesses sitting on big, fancy pillows. I don’t need a fancy pillow, but sometimes I need one to reach a table.”

Azahar and Elowen remained where they stood for half a minute longer, just staring after them and listening to their new sister’s voice echo off the stone as she continued to ramble. The older boy looked at Scott as he stepped between them to put a hand behind each’s shoulder, as if to nudge them out of their flummoxed states and start walking. “How—” Azahar flicked a pointing finger between Scott and the direction of Sausage’s back. “How did you—? She’s—??”

“…Just like Papa?” Scott finished for him with a smile. “There is a lot of magic in the world, and maybe fate does happen to be one of them.”

~*~

Liana gazed around as she continued to follow Sausage toward the staircase that led to the upper floors, where he intended to quickly stash her bag and maybe see if she would part with her bunny plush so she could go to dinner unhindered. “Papa, this castle is huge! It’s gonna take weeks an’ weeks to see all of it! How come you only gots two kids? You could fit elebenty hundred in here!”

Sausage laughed. “Well, we only decided we wanted kids last year. It would take a while to find that many! And there aren’t as many bedrooms as it looks like.  We would probably run out of space after the first elebenty, er, eleven. Azahar and Elowen share a room right now, but they might decide they each want their own later.”

“Who do I have a room with?” Liana asked curiously.

“Um… your bunny! But your room is right across from the boys if you need anything, and Dad and I are right down the hall.”

“What about these rooms?” She glanced left and right at the other doors they were passing.

“Those are guest rooms! Well, a few have some junk stored in them because I, uh, collect things. But when you or the boys make some friends, they’ll be able to stay over and sleep in one of them! Okay, here we are! See, there’s their room.” Sausage pointed with his foot to the open doorway on the left before finagling with the door across from it.

Liana wandered over to glance inside; she saw the two neatly made beds with Elowen’s teddy bear on the one farthest from the door, then she spotted the books and crowns sitting on the dresser. Her eyes widened with glee, but she kept the feeling reined in to just a broad smile as she turned and walked back over to survey her room. Two new beds and other furniture had been placed in it after the existing items had been moved to accommodate Elowen’s request to share.

Liana scurried over to the second bed and climbed up to lay her bunny against the pillows. “You’re right! Bunny gets a bed, too!” She hopped back to the floor and took a serious look around. “Hmm. I need to gets books. An’… An’ a crown. ‘Cause that’s what’s in Azahar and Elowen’s room.”

Sausage kept quiet for a moment, realizing for the first time as he put her clothes away in the dresser how few possessions Liana had been able to put in her bag… or, what had actually been put in it for her. The clothing seemed threadbare and was, perhaps, reserved for sending off with a child when it could no longer be handed down to another child who wore that size. He made a mental note to send a subsidy to that particular orphanage, and have a talk with Xornoth about checking fund distributions; he then added a note for himself to do the same there in Mythland.

He turned a bright smile toward Liana. “You can put whatever you want in here! It doesn’t have to be just books! Flowers, dollies, a pretty tea pot – even other bunny plushies!” She looked distressed for a second, so he added, “Bunnies that are friends for your bunny! That way yours can have company when you’re busy doing princess things!”

She seemed to think about it, then she nodded enthusiastically and carefully enunciated, “Thank you, Papa, I would like that.”

Sausage chuckled then scooped her up with his left arm, holding her on his hip with support from his right hand. “You’re welcome! Let’s go downstairs to dinner, and we can think about getting dollies and dresses tomorrow. In fact… We’re going to be late for dinner! I just noticed Dad and the boys didn’t follow us! They might eat everything before we get there! Hold on to me!”

Liana giggled and hugged his neck as he ran out of the room and tore down the hall, laughing with her until they reached the staircase, which he navigated more carefully until he neared the bottom. He bunny-hopped down the last few steps, making Liana giggle again. As they neared the dining room, she put her nose up into the air and crinkled it. “I can smell dinner now, too! Dinnertime! Dinnertime! Dinner with my new daddies an’ brothers!”

Sausage entered the room to see heartfelt looks on the faces of Scott and the boys due to having heard Liana’s joyful declaration. They had been making changes to how the table was arranged, with Scott and Elowen seated to the left of the head of the table and an extra chair added on the right next to Azahar that put Liana between him and Sausage. An additional purple cushion had been placed on this chair. Liana uttered a big, delighted gasp when she saw it as Sausage set her down on it. She wiggled a little, then whispered, “So there was a special princess chair…”

Elowen suppressed a giggle, while Azahar smiled gently at Liana. “You said you might need a pillow to reach the table, so we found one for you. Dad said you like purple.”

“I do! Thank you!” Liana crowed. She calmed down and said matter-of-factly, “I only need it for right now, though. I’m gonna grow up to be really tall, then I can reach all the fancy tables!”

Elowen fidgeted as the kitchen staff began to set out bowls of soup and small, individual baskets of warm bread rolls. He appeared as if he wanted to say something to Liana, but he waited while she thanked each person that walked past. After the staff withdrew, he blurted, “D-Do you think you’ll be really tall because your mom or your dad were tall?”

Liana had started munching on a bread roll and calmly spoke around the bite, “I don’t know my mommy or daddy. When I gots old enough an’ asked, the growed-ups told me I was a ‘doorstep baby’, an’ all I had with me was my bunny! So, they didn’t know about them to tell me.”

Azahar, Scott, and Sausage were startled by her candor. Azahar reached over to lightly pat Liana’s arm. “You and I have something in common, then.”

Liana’s eyes widened. “You gots left with just your bunny, too? But I didn’t see one in your room!”

Azahar laughed. “No, I think it was a handspun yarn blanket, and when I outgrew it, it was used for another baby, which I didn’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s a nice hands-me-down,” Liana said, nodding sagely as she took another bite of the roll. She chewed, then announced, “This is yummy bread!” She hummed happily until she finished eating the roll, then she looked across the table. “Elowen, did you hands-me-down anything? Was that your teddy bear I saw? It could be friends with my bunny!”

Elowen smiled weakly, having been poking his spoon at the vegetables in his soup. “I didn’t have anything like that. I got my teddy bear later.”

“Oh, okay,” Liana replied, oblivious to his dulled tone. “That’s a good reason to not hands-me-down! Daddy, Papa, do you have bunnies or teddy bears from when you was kids?”

With a mischievous look – and hoping to lighten Elowen’s mood – Sausage answered, “I only have Bubbles from when I was a kid!”

Liana shook her spoon at him. “Papa, Bubbles is a real doggy! You can’t pretend a real aminal is a toy!” She took a very serious first sip of her soup, as if she was the parent scolding the child, then her eyes lit up and she looked down at the bowl in wonder. “This is really good soup!” She ate two more quick spoonfuls before coughing when she started on a third.

“Slowly, Liana,” Scott gently chided. “It will still taste good if you eat slower. And to answer your question, I had a blue fawn plushie when I was little, although it ended up with the spots turned red because my brother tried to dye it with berry juice. We were never able to wash the stain out. But it was still my favorite.”

Liana gave an angry pout. “Your brother sounds mean! What if you gots another brother or sister after you, an’ you were gonna hands-me-down it to them, but they didn’t like red, an’ it made them cry! An’… An’ if he’s your brother, that makes him my uncle!” Her face fell into a sadder pout. “I don’t want a mean uncle.”

Scott chuckled. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t trying to be mean. He just wanted to do something silly. He thought it would wash out, too.”

Liana stood up on her chair and now shook her spoon at Scott, sending a few droplets of broth flying. “But no one should mess with someone’s fav’rite toy! It’s not nice! He shoulda tried it on his own toy first, so��s he would know how it feels!”

Sausage reached over to pinch the handle of her spoon between two fingers, creating a metallic tink sound. Putting some focus on his magic frequency, he sent a brief surge of energy through his prosthetic to make the gemstone at the wrist twinkle. The shine of this light through the translucent green cover atop his forearm  distracted her from her tiny outrage and she watched with fascination, although all he did was gently lower her hand.

Meanwhile, Azahar and Elowen traded looks across the table. The latter stammered, “Y-You’re very energetic, Liana. We were really nervous about becoming princes and were, um, very polite our first days here.”

Liana blinked at him. To Sausage’s relief, she put her spoon down altogether instead of gesturing with it again, so he withdrew his hand. “But it’s just dinnertime,” she replied. “It’s not a big ball with lotsa candles an’ people dancing in a big room with fancy dresses. We’re just being us, aren’t we?”

Sausage began to laugh. “She’s right! We’re just us right now. But you still shouldn’t stand on your chair, Liana, or wave utensils around at the same time – you might fall over into your soup!”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right – it won’t taste good if I do that,” she agreed. She sat back down on the pillow and ate her soup with perfect manners, although after a point she grabbed another roll and proceeded to gobble it down while again proclaiming how yummy it was.

~*~

After a short lantern-lit tour to try to give Liana a sense of direction if she happened to get up during the night or possibly woke up early and decided to explore on her own – which, honestly, Sausage and Scott wouldn’t put past her but did request that she not do – everyone started getting ready for bed. Sausage tucked her in and asked if she would be alright in a room by herself, and assured her it was fine if she wasn’t, and asked if she would feel better if one of her brothers stayed in the room with her until she got used to it because this place was new to her and it was fine to be nervous, and—

Liana merely hugged her bunny and said she was okay, a big girl princess wouldn’t be scared of a castle and she had bunny to share the room with her, after all, and Azahar and Elowen seemed to like having a room together, so maybe that also meant one of them was scared to be alone at night, so she would be brave so that neither of them would have to be alone, and—

Scott broke up the mutual rambling session, gently pulling Sausage away from the doorway before wishing Liana a goodnight in Elvish to try to make it sound like a finality that everyone would go to sleep now. He elbowed Sausage, who hastily repeated the phrase while still looking worried about this first night in the castle. Yet, this only caused Liana to giggle, because Scott then corrected Sausage’s accent, telling his husband he had just told Liana to ‘have a good sneeze’.

Liana loudly repeated the misspoken phrase with another giggle, drawing laughs from across the hall. Sausage uttered a good-natured grumble about still working on his accent, then wished everyone goodnight again in Common.

The little girl laid down, bunny in her arms, and gazed at the ceiling while processing some of the sounds she was noticing; she was silently glad for the lanternlight coming in from the hallway, since the door had been left open in case she did happen to call for something.

It was only a few minutes later that Azahar came in to check on her. He sat down on the other bed as she sat up to tell him, “I told Papa I was okay. You can sleep in your room.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” Azahar said warmly. “I always tried to help new kids feel welcome in the place where Elowen and I used to live. I thought I could still do the same now.”

“But Daddy an’ Papa took me home! That means I am welcome!”

“Oh, well, yes. Of course it does. But if you have anything you’re, like, worried about or scared of, I can talk with you about it. Elowen was nervous about how big the castle was when we first got here, and we wondered if there might be ghosts.”

“Castles are s’posed to be big! An’… An’ ghosts aren’t scary!” Liana insisted, although she clutched her bunny plushie tightly. “Papa would have said something if there were ghosts!”

From out in the hallway came a high-pitched “OoOoOo~” noise, then Elowen leaned his head into the room. “Maybe Papa doesn’t know there are ghosts. Maybe they only show themselves to certain people. Like little children…”

Azahar shot him a look of warning; Elowen gave a mischievous grin. Liana, meanwhile, protested, “Stop tryin’a scare me! You’re being mean brothers!”

“Shhh,” Azahar tried to quiet her, holding his hands up to calm the situation. “Let’s not worry Dad or Papa. They need to rest from traveling, too. Elowen, that wasn’t nice. We should teach her how to chase away the ghosts first.” He snuck a grin at the other boy.

Liana scowled. “I don’t believe you! There aren’t any ghosts! Kingdoms that have talking chickens an’ dragons don’t have stupid scary things like ghosts! There would be REAL monsters! Now get outta my room, I wanna go to sleep!” She glared mightily at them.

Elowen stood straight upright, incidentally hopping into the middle of the doorway. “Oh, I see – you’re scarier than ghosts would be! Oh, time to run away! I’m gonna hide under my blanket from a scary little sister!” He turned tail to run to the other room.

Azahar stared after him. “This is… not how I meant this to go…”

“Hmph!” Liana put her chin in the air. “That’s what you get for tryin’a scare me! Now go away!” She emphatically turned and pulled the blanket up over herself.

“Okay, well… Um, sorry, Liana. I really do want to help. That was just some silly fun to make your first night here less scary—”

“I don’t care! Time for sleep! Say sorry at breakfast, an’ maybe I won’t be as mad at you!”

“Heh, okay.” Azahar wished her goodnight in Elvish, then left.

Liana hugged her bunny under the covers. “Mean… There’s no ghosts. There can’t be ghosts. My new daddies are secret heroes… Ghosts don’t haunt heroes. Unless they’re good ghosts… I don’t wanna see a ghost floatin’ through the wall, but maybe they’re helpful ghosts… An’… An’ they don’t try to scare little girls who’re tryin’a be brave even though they’re in a big, giant castle for the first time, an’ just met everyone…”

She heard a brief scraping sound; she let out an involuntary whimper, clutching her bunny tighter. Something jumped onto the bed, and then a wet nose came sniffing around the edge of the blanket. There was a very soft, “Arf?” then a weight settled down beside her.

Liana put her hand out and ended up grasping a fistful of short fur. She lightened her grip, then surreptitiously began to pet the furry creature. She whispered, “It’s time for sleep, Bubbles. You can stay in my room, though. You’re a big, brave doggie. Goodnight.”

~*~

Sausage was the first awake the next morning, and he didn’t even wait for Scott to be up to help him don his prosthetic before he padded out of the room without it so he could check on Liana. Things were a little different from Azahar’s and Elowen’s first night in Mythland; they were older, for starters, and had the familiarity of each other for company. Sausage had heard some of the kerfuffle among the three children at bedtime, but it hadn’t seemed too alarming, and everyone quieted down soon after.

He glanced into the boys’ room just to see if Liana had gone to them – either from reassurance during the night, or if she had already woken up and was there to chat. Instead, he saw both boys still in bed, although they were awake. Azahar was doing some arm stretches while Elowen yawned loudly – but he used a quiet tone when he spotted Sausage and said, “Good morning, Papa.”

“Good morning,” Sausage replied, also keeping his voice down. “I’m just checking up on everything. I’ll see you at breakfast in a bit.” He gave a little wave, then crossed to the other side of the hall.

Liana was sleeping soundly, lying on her back with her bunny in range of her right hand, while her left hand rested beside a furry black and tan lump that was curled up next to her. Sausage smiled and whispered, “Good girl, Bubbles.”

The interdimensional Yorkie lifted her head and turned it to peer at him. She wagged her tail and made a silent bark. Then she jumped up, did a one-eighty turn in the air, and licked Liana’s hand. The little girl stirred, mumbling, “Bubbles… stop tryin’a eat me… You’re s’posed to eat the scary ghosts…”

“Bubbles,” Sausage called in an exaggerated whisper, “I thought we chased off the ghosts. Did you find one more and tell our new daughter about it?”

Liana abruptly sat bolt upright, causing Bubbles to jump off the bed and run past Sausage out of the room. He smiled after her, turning so that the cuff covering his stump was visible – due to his nightshirt lacking a sleeve on that side. Liana declared, “I knew there wouldn’t be any real ghosts! Azahar an’ Elowen tried to scare me, but I didn’t believe them! Bubbles was just sleepin’ here ‘cause she wanted company! I wasn’t scared!” She then blinked and stared at Sausage’s right side. “Oh. That’s not like the dollie’s arm. Her whole arm came off.”

Sausage smiled gently and cupped the end of his stump with his left hand as he entered the room. “Yeah, the dragon only ate part of it. I usually put on my metal arm when I get up in the morning, but I really wanted to make sure you slept alright last night. So, the boys tried to scare you, huh?”

Liana’s eyes went wide and, aghast, she yelled, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE DRAGON ATE IT?! I thought it was a pet dragon, or knight dragon, like the chicken!!”

Sausage winced at her volume. “Oh, ha, we didn’t tell you the whole story yesterday.” He sat down on the side of the bed with his left arm toward her, but she crawled over to sit on his right, so he turned, leaving them both sat on the end facing the doorway. “Dad and I, along with our friends – your new Uncle fWhip and Aunt Gem – fought an angry dragon – or, a dragon-like creature.” Sausage’s own eyes brightened with merriment as he thought of a way to embellish the story, because Liana was hanging onto his every word. “We didn’t know what it really was, but it was fierce, and it was hungry! I attacked it with my sword – whap-pow! – but it just opened its big mouth and bit down on not only my sword, but most of my arm! Dad used his magic to freeze it, then rescued me, and Auntie Gem healed me. She did a good job, but the beast had already finished its meal and we couldn’t get it back to stick it back on, so Uncle fWhip made me a new arm!”

Liana fairly vibrated from excitement. “So, you did stop a monster that would have eated everything!”

Sausage uttered a slightly nervous laugh. “Well, sort of. It seemed like it was happy to eat only my arm. But we put a stop to it, just in case.”

Liana went quiet, looking as if she was pondering a very serious matter, then said, “Papa, do you think the dragon-creature’s ghost would haunt the castle?”

“Nope! I think you already know what would happen – Bubbles would eat it!”

“That’s true,” Liana replied in an upbeat tone. She then tilted her head. “Can I see it? Y-Your arm? Um, the part the dragon didn’t eat?” She gestured to the buttoned cuff, her expression the epitome of childlike curiosity. “Oh, wait, ummm… Is it okay to ask that?”

“Sure! I don’t mind! It’s not scary, it just has a scar like my face.” Sausage began to undo the buttons on the side of the cuff.

“Did the monster scratch your face, too??”

“No, that was from an… accident. With a Blood Sheep. You don’t want to mess with the Blood Sheep. They’re powerful, like Bubbles! But as long as they have plenty of grass to graze, they won’t try to eat little girls.”

“What’s a Blood Sheep? There were sheep near where I lived, but no one ever said they were dangerous!”

“Umm… I’ll show you after breakfast!” He rolled the cuff upward and held the remainder of his arm up for Liana to examine. She noted the wide line of scar tissue on the end and began to reach to touch it, but pulled her hand back, murmuring to herself, “Nope, that might be rude, too. You gots to ask first.” She screwed up her face in thought, then pulled up the sleeves of her nightgown and – after a moment of deliberating – held her left arm up next to his stump to give herself an idea of where it might match up.

Sausage smiled, amused by her train of thought. He then caught movement by the door from the corner of his eye. Scott was there with a look of consternation, one of his braids coming loose as if he hadn’t had time to complete it, and he held the prosthetic in his hands. Sausage gave him a little nod, then raised a finger in a ‘one minute’ gesture. Scott shook his head and pointed down at the prosthetic, then off to the side, indicating that Sausage should get moving. “Well, Liana, if you have any more questions about it, I can answer them later. We should get going and have breakfast!”

Scott gestured more insistently. Sausage hopped up and hurried over to ask about the rush, but Scott immediately ushered him back to their room. “There’s a raven waiting for you. It came from the western border. You need to go over there right away.” The raven in question was sitting on the windowsill, an open scroll under one foot.

Sausage quickly pulled off his nightshirt to allow Scott to help him attach the prosthetic. “But we were going to go shopping for Liana after breakfast.” His mouth fell into a little pout.

“It’s urgent. I’ll take her and the boys out, don’t worry.” Not waiting for Sausage to move faster, Scott started dressing his husband shirt-first.

Sausage, meanwhile, gave him a sad-eyed look, his pout intensifying. He did, however, cooperate with getting dressed for travel.

Scott chuckled softly. “I know, I know. You were looking forward to it. You’ve become very fond of her rather quickly.”

“I can’t help it! She’s so charming and… and… we didn’t have a chance to stop yesterday to get her the dress she wanted…” Sausage continued to pout, then tapped the tips of his index fingers against each other while looking aside as he mumbled, “But I guess she can spend time with her new dad, too…”

“Sau-sage,” Scott said, “They think there’s a Warden loose in the caves near the town. If it weren’t for Liana, I would go, too, but I don’t want to leave her on her first day here. And it’s better if you’re the one to meet with the townsfolk, especially if you need to get Tango’s help for Warden wrangling.”

Sausage’s expression changed instantly. He rushed to get his boots on, then grabbed his customized elytra from the armor stand in the corner. He shrugged it on, then went to the window to read the scroll for himself, checking the name of the town. Then he climbed into the window. The raven croaked and flew off ahead of him to let the distressed townsfolk know their king was on his way. “I’ll find breakfast on the way. Tell the kids I love them and I’ll be back soon!”

“Good luck!” Scott called after him as Sausage launched himself out of the window frame. Scott then finished getting himself sorted for the day and went to tell the children of the change in plans. He caught up to the boys as they were heading out of their room, and asked them to wait while he checked if Liana was ready to go downstairs.

He found her fully dressed in one of the patched outfits she had brought home with her, the leggings in decent shape – but no shoes yet, since she was jumping on the second bed trying to look out the high, narrow window. Scott was about to question her but she turned and exclaimed, “I heard a loud bird! An’ I looked up an’ saw Papa flying by the window! He doesn’t have bird wings like elves!” She leapt down from the bed and ran over to Scott, demanding, “Why is he flying? How is he flying?!”

Perhaps startled by her announcement, Azahar and Elowen ran over to the doorway. Scott looked around at the three children, silently wishing Sausage had chosen a different direction to go. “I was just coming to tell all of you: Papa had a sudden, important request for help from a town, and it’s his job as king to go in person, especially because he might need some extra help.” Scott then realized what Sausage’s choice of direction meant. “It sounds like he was going to get that help, actually, because Tango the Blaze Emperor – boys, you might remember him from your gala – is a specialist at wrangling the creature that the townsfolk are having a problem with, and the best place to find him is our neighbor, the Cod Empire.”

Azahar was about to make a humorous comment about Tango being rather memorable for appearing to be on fire, but Liana cut him off. “Our neighbors are fish?! How do fish have an empire?? Don’t fish just swim around in the water all day? Isn’t a blaze like a fire? Wouldn’t that boil the water? Oh! Is he really good at cooking fish?”

Elowen giggled. Scott was once again struck by how similar Liana and Sausage were. As he stifled a laugh of his own, Azahar explained, “There are people who can breathe underwater and have the appearance of different types of sea life. The Cod Empire is ruled by Jimmy, who is a fish-like man. His sister, Lizzie, rules the Ocean Empire, and looks like a giant blue axolotl. Tango, however, is a blazeman-hybrid. He does have a kingdom of his own underground, a little far away from here, but he is good friends with Jimmy, who is teaching him about life on the surface – teaching him about people like us, who are different from what he’s used to.”

Liana seemed to be listening with fascination. “So, there’s lotsa other kingdoms besides Rivendell an’ this land of myths? But those people all sound like they’re myths!”

Scott now openly chuckled. “Our kingdom is literally named Mythland. Sir Carlos can explain the history better than I can, but it has its roots in an even older kingdom with a great – if lost – legacy. You’ll learn all about these things when we have school lessons later. We’ll figure out what type of lessons you need another day, though. After breakfast we’re going to do some shopping in town and find that dress you wanted, and you can show it to Papa when he gets home.”

Liana looked disappointed for a second as she stepped back. She glanced toward the window. Then she gave a decisive nod and ran to the dresser to take out a pair of socks. She sat down on the floor to pull them on. “Okay, Daddy. We’ll… surprise Papa by finding a really pretty one! An’… he’ll see… he’ll see that we could find one, even if not all of us was there to look at ev’rything.” She scooted over to her shoes to put them on next. Afterward, she lifted her chin proudly to show she was being a big girl and not upset that her new papa wasn’t also going with them.

Scott, of course, noticed her lip tremble. “He’ll be with us in spirit. He really wanted you to get that purple dress, and since we don’t know how long it would take to help the townsfolk, I said I would take you out to get one.” Thinking he had cottoned on to the problem, he said, “You know, this can also be a way for you to impress him by telling him about all the things you saw in town! It will be like your own adventure in your new home.”

Elowen piped up, “Y-Yeah, Liana, and we can show you some of the cool things we’ve discovered when we’ve gone out around town.” He gestured to himself and Azahar. “We can show you where the winter market was, and where the regular shops are that sell fun stuff!”

“No,” Liana said in a firm, yet calm, tone. “When Daddy an’ Papa came to my old home, they both played with me. So, they should both be there for other fun!” As if that should settle the matter, she walked past Scott and went between the boys, grabbing Azahar and Elowen by the hand. “Okay, breakfast time! You gots to eat a good breakfast before you go out!”

~*~

“Jimmy!! Tango!!” Sausage’s voice rang out over the sea-facing border of the Cod Empire as he flew over, hoping to get the attention of one of them. “I need help with a Warden problem!!”

The door of the fishing shack flew open – presumably from the force of Tango’s kick, seeing as he came out with one upraised foot leading. “Warden?? Where?! Oh, hi! Hi, neighboring Sausage-king-person.” Tango looked eager for details, but waited for Sausage to circle around to make a non-watery landing.

Jimmy wandered out of the shack a moment later, yawning and rubbing one eye. “Sausage, it’s too early for monster wrangling…”

The King of Mythland didn’t bother closing his elytra. “Not when they wander up to the surface overnight! I’ve got a small town in need, and I don’t have a lot of time today, so I thought I’d call on the expert to get it done faster. Oh, and you can help, too, Jimmy.”

The Codfather gave him a disgruntled look, while Tango straightened up proudly. “Of course! Professional wranglers here, at your service.”

“Great,” Sausage said. “Now grab some elytra and follow me! I need to get back a-sap!”

“I’ll get them!” Tango chirped. “I haven’t flown around much. Some practice will be great! fWhip even made me some fireproof ones.” He scurried back inside the shack.

Jimmy waited outside, taking note of Sausage’s clearly bright mood despite the apparent threat. “You’re in quite the hurry. What is going on that you need to rush back? Do you have something nice planned with the princes?”

“Jimmy…” Sausage clapped his left hand onto the Codfather’s shoulder and feigned a somber attitude, then overrode it with a wide grin. “Scott and I just became the proud fathers of a little girl! We brought her home last night! This is our first full day with her, and I have to go deal with some stupid Warden that couldn’t stay in the Deep Dark.” As he spoke, his fingers tightened, digging into Jimmy’s shoulder; Sausage’s grin turned into a clenched-tooth grimace of aggravation.

Jimmy endured it, then pried Sausage’s hand off. “Well, uh, congratulations, and I’m sorry you have a rogue Warden to deal with, today of all days. What’s her name? What’s she like? Hey, it’s actually kind of nice to find out ahead of time instead of a gala invite out of the blue.”

“Oh, Jimmy, she’s the sweetest little elf. Her name is Liana, she’s six and a half years old – she seems to like insisting on the ‘and a half’ part – she loves to talk and ask things and have tea parties, and I can’t wait to see her running around with Bubbles and the boys and having fun together—!!” Sausage pressed the palms of his hands against his cheeks and all but squeed with joy.

“Oh my gosh, Sausage.” Jimmy’s mouth crinkled up in amusement. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, and it hasn’t even been a whole day! That’s so sweet, man. I’ll look forward to meeting her. Y’know, before or at her debut gala.” He grinned teasingly.

Tango returned before Sausage could comment. He handed Jimmy his elytra, then shrugged his own on. “Alright, now to take care of this little Warden issue. Lead on, Your Highness!” Tango glanced over to see Sausage still in jubilant father mode. “Uh…what’s with him?” he asked Jimmy.

“He has discovered the joy of having a daughter. Give him a second, then you can try using your Warden roar to snap him out of it.”

~*~

The shopping trip quickly became a spectacle of Liana delighting each and every shopkeeper they passed, between her customary announcement of her name – although she cut back on mentioning her age unless someone asked – and her exuberant curiosity about differences she noticed between elven and Mythlandian culture.

Scott opted for the general and practical clothing shops rather than going straight to the tailor; that would be reserved for a special trip closer to a certain date. He left Liana under the supervision of either Azahar or Elowen depending on which one he was assisting at the time – Elowen’s leggings were starting to come up short on him, and Azahar’s shirts were becoming tight across his chest and arms.

Meanwhile, Liana would babble to the shopkeeper and whichever brother was in attendance at the time of how she wanted to look at anything in purple or that had a picture of a bunny on it. Scott would then look through those offerings with her, and she tried on the ones that looked like they might fit. If anything happened to be slightly too big, like in the case of corduroy overalls with a rabbit embroidered on the front pocket, Scott bought it anyway with the idea that it could be stored for the future.

By the time they were done they had amassed six large parcels, the clothing neatly folded and secured with twine, but a bit much to carry home even when Scott tested out carrying them on a gust of cold air with magic. The final shopkeeper agreed to hold onto the lot until Scott could send someone down with a cart to pick it up.

Liana had actually gotten quiet by that point, watching as the parcels were stashed in the shop’s back room. She fidgeted for a moment, then yelled, “Thank you for watching our stuff! When I’m bigger I’ll come back for more bunny dresses! So please have some more!”

The shopkeeper chuckled on his way back to the floor. He dusted off his hands and nodded to Liana. “Sure thing, little Miss. You just let me know when you start outgrowing those, and I’ll put in a special princess order.”

“Yay! Thank you, mister clothes shop owner! DADDY!” she then yelled to Scott, “Thank you for the nice dresses!! Maybe when I outgrow them, we can send them to Silvilana an’ the others! But maybe by then Silvilana will have nice daddies, too! Or nice mommies! Or a nice daddy and mommy? I don’t know, but I hope she goes home, too! An’ the others, an’ then maybe they won’t need my clothes, but there always seemed to be new kids coming in, an’ they should have nice stuff, too—”

Scott patted her on the head. “We’ll look into it when the time comes. Right now, we have one more stop to make, then we’ll go home for lunch and see if Papa is back to eat with us.”

“Are we getting something for you an’ Papa next?” Liana asked, puzzled, as they walked out and headed down the street. “You haven’t gotten anything yet! Ev’ryone should get something, it’s only fair! You were nice an’ gots us lots!” She looked at Azahar and Elowen, expecting them to agree.

Elowen nodded. Azahar chuckled. “She’s right, Dad. You should get a tunic with a rabbit on it. A blue one.”

Scott laughed. Liana jumped forward with both feet to keep pace with his steps, proclaiming, “Or a blue fawn! Ev’ryone should get a picture of their fav’rite thing!”

“You have a point, Liana,” Scott agreed. “But as King Regnant, I have to wear what other grown-ups consider to be dignified clothes.” When she stopped jumping in order to pout up at him, he added, “Maybe I could get something like that on a night shirt.”

Her face brightened. “Yeah! Then you just put on a kingly robe over it to hide it from boring growed-ups!”

They all laughed at the idea, then Scott proceeded to make up increasingly silly scenarios where someone might find out he had pastel blue fawn pajamas. This continued as they traveled along the streets until another clothing shop came into view. The sign hanging outside depicted a formal ball gown. Liana’s eyes widened when she saw the window display. She whispered, “Dresses for meeting princesses…” She then froze on the spot, realizing that she now was that princess.

Scott went to the door and held it open to allow the children to enter first. “You could say this is something for Papa and I: to keep our promise to you.”

Liana hopped up and down, then once again grabbed her new brothers by their hands. “Look, look! Now we can see what I shoulda been wearing to meet you! Now I can fit in with princes!”

Azahar tried to say, “Liana, you were fine meeting us just as you were—” but the words got lost as she pulled them into the shop.

The shopkeeper hurried over as soon as she noticed who had entered. “Your Highness! Young princes! I see you brought a little friend! How may I help you?”

Surprisingly, Elowen was the one to answer. “We need a fancy dress for our new sister.” Scott felt a surge of pride over the younger boy speaking up, yet realized that – perhaps – it was Liana’s energy rubbing off on him that had encouraged him.

Liana hopped up and down again. “That’s me! I’m the princess! An’ I need to look like one! Daddy gots me some nice new things, but Elowen’s right! Princesses need one really fancy dress!”

The shopkeeper looked toward Scott. “How wonderful! My congratulations to you and Lord Sausage! Your family just keeps growing, doesn’t it? What are you looking for in your fancy dress?”

Together Scott and the boys all chorused, “Purple” at the same time, answering even as Liana was opening her mouth.

The little girl giggled and then smiled up at the shopkeeper. “Please, may I see your finest pretty purple dresses?”

~*~

Sausage glanced around the interior of the cave nervously, then hissed, “When I asked you guys for help, I thought Jimmy would be the bait, not me!”

The Codfather grinned from his hiding place behind the pile of rocks that was closer to the entrance than Sausage’s position. He whispered in reply, “Of course I’m not the bait. I’m a professional wrangler now. Don’t worry, Sausage! We’ll get you home to your kiddos in one piece. Relatively speaking.”

Sausage wanted to glare in Jimmy’s direction, but the clacking of Warden antennae made him return his focus to the device nestled behind his ear that connected him to the magic frequency operating his prosthetic, allowing him to control it remotely. The prosthetic was currently secured above a button that would turn on a noise machine, which was intended to lure the stray Warden toward a web of ropes set up to snare the creature. It had wandered deeper into the cave system for the moment, but that didn’t guarantee it wouldn’t wander back out again. “You know what - You know what? If my arm gets damaged, you get to explain to fWhip why!”

Tango, hidden across from Jimmy, replied in a flat tone, “Better your fake arm than your whole, real body.” He was in a strict focused mode now. The change in his demeanor started slow after they had spoken with the townsfolk, the bravest of whom took the three to the road that ran near the cave system where a farmer making an early delivery to the town had heard the frightening sounds of a Warden stomping around. The farmer fled without confirming it, but a few intrepid townspeople investigated, only to flee as soon as they heard it and the tell-tale heartbeat for themselves.

Tango’s blithe attitude toward a potential adventure disappeared completely once the three of them had scoped out the cave; they all immediately went on alert at the sound of the creature sniffing around, and the way Tango launched into an analysis of the terrain led Sausage to not even question the plan when it was first proposed.

Now he was feeling uncertain, however. Tango was correct to use Sausage’s prosthetic to activate the noise machine, avoiding any of them being too close to the Warden after it became attracted to the sound, but Sausage himself still needed to be within a specific range of his prosthetic for the signal to carry. “Tango, I think I like you better when you’re hyper and slightly weird. ‘Serious-Tango’ scares me. This had better work. I want to be able to hug my kids with both arms when I get back.”

Tango uttered a strange sort of squawk. “Shush your face! I can feel it stomping this way again! … Wait for it… Wait for it… Now!”

Sausage could see the glow of the Warden’s open chest and antennae around the corner. He gulped, then directed his prosthetic’s hand to slam down onto the button. The noise machine started up. The Warden grunted and the glow coming off it shifted directions as it lumbered toward the machine.

Sausage suppressed a squeak of relief as he ducked behind cover. He left the rest to the professionals as they sprang into action. He put his attention on the device again to remain aware of whether or not the Warden happened to smash his prosthetic or not – rather than watch it occur with his own eyes. Out of sight there, he could also keep his dramatic worries to himself, quietly whimpering and theatrically crying as he imagined a scenario of him returning home without the prosthetic because he would have had to drop it off at The Grimlands for fWhip to repair, and then Liana and Elowen might even stare at his right side and the lack of arm, and he would get ten thousand bazillion questions about their own imagined scenarios before he could explain, and surely he should make it sound more amazing than just using it to push a single button, and meanwhile Scott and Azahar would probably stand there looking amused because, well, Scott knew the situation, and Azahar would be quick to catch on although he would still be entertained by the adventurous aspect, but Sausage ­still­ wouldn’t be able to hug everyone or pick up Liana and assure her that he was alright, and that they could still have fun the rest of the day, and… [To Be Continued in Chapter Four: The Parties and The First Dreams]