#still the other one that was sent by an anon might be doing the rounds in my head now so lets see

[vicsbasement]

So, @pitstoptaken sent me a reply with the prompt: Them being university people. They’re not really close, just know each other from friends. But one day things happen like, a 7 minute in heaven or something. “So are you gay or bi or?” // “does it really matter?”

And this came out:

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Carlos wonders, pointing with his head towards a taller guy, one that’s leaning against the wall as he intently stares at his phone. There’s a frown on his pretty features, and Lando isn’t the one to think other men are pretty, but this guy had commanded their attention from across the room. He was pretty.

“Him? Oh, that’s Charles, isn’t it?” Lando nudges Alex with his elbow and Alex nods, smiling happily as George pets his hair. “He’s a Modern Languages student, we go to the same translation theory class.”

Carlos nods along with the explanation, but a frown takes over his face. “So, there’s nothing a guy like me could ever have in common with him, huh.” Carlos muses, and Lando nods, almost solemnly. “Except…”

George places a glass, loudly, on top of the table, and grabs a glass beer bottle and a knife, making them clink and calling the room’s attention.

“Let’s play spin the bottle!” George claims, and the room erupts in equal part groans and laughter. Carlos doesn’t take his eyes off the handsome stranger, that doesn’t seem uninterested, but he couldn’t say he was on board with the idea, either.

“Volunteers can come to the kitchen floor and sit in a circle. Everyone else go back to your own conversations!” George demands, and the room erupts into laughter again, while some people move towards the kitchen.

That’s the moment the stranger looks up and catches Carlos’ stare on him. It must’ve been intense, because his expression was surprised, at first, but then, it turned… mischievous? The light wasn’t helping, though, and Carlos felt a shiver coming on when a trickle of cold sweat went down his spine at the little daring smirk the stranger was shooting his way as he, silently, walked towards George to stand directly behind him. They never broke eye contact. And Carlos tried his best to swallow around the dryness in his mouth.

Alex offered him a bottle, an eyebrow raised at him.

“You might not have to talk much with him, mate.” He joked. Carlos nodded.

Xx

Of course, George rigged the whole thing. And now Carlos is standing awkwardly in the middle of a hallway, catcalls coming from the living room, being ushered by George in the general direction of his bedroom – which of course he knows where it is, but it’s awkward, alright? – with a hand on a certain Charles Leclerc’s wrist.

Charles’ expression is almost unreadable in this light, but just judging by general feel, he doesn’t seem stiff, or nervous, he’s just an almost complete stranger that Carlos pointed out at this party. He walks quickly, still hearing the catcalls and wolf whistles, and takes a left so he can enter George’s room, closing the door behind Charles’ frame with a soft click.

“Who plays seven minutes in heaven anymore?” Charles quips, and Carlos feels caught. If he hadn’t pointed at him earlier tonight none of this would’ve happened, but now it’s too late to back out.

“It’s all George’s idea.” Carlos replies, running a nervous hand through his hair. “It was his plan to get to make out with Alex, but…”

“It landed on us, instead?” Charles wonders, and Carlos can see clearly how his eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room.

Surrounded by Lewis Hamilton posters, the whole scene isn’t how Carlos had imagined it would be, but he straightens his back, nonetheless, taking the leap to sit on the bed. At least he’s going to talk to the guy.

“What’s your name?” Charles wonders, and Carlos can’t help it, he smiles.

“I’m Carlos.” He replies. Charles shakes his head.

“You’re kidding.” Charles says, a bright smile and a soft laugh escaping him.

“No, I’m not, my name is Carlos Sainz—”

“We’re both named the same?” Charles interrupts him, and Carlos nods. He hadn’t thought about it, but there were some friends in this very college that called him Charlie, even.

“I go by Carlitos, though. You go by Charlie, right? I’ve heard Alex mention you.” Carlos says, and Charles nods. “I have some friends back home who called me Charlie, too.” Carlos admits, and Charles grins at him.

“Cats or dogs?” Charles asks him.

“Dogs.” Carlos replies, without thinking. Charles nods, agreeing with him. Then, it’s Carlos’ turn to question him.

“Do you have siblings?”

“Two brothers, I’m in the middle.”

“I’ve got two sisters and I’m in the middle, too.”

“Huh.”

“How old are you?” Carlos wonders, and Charles blushes a bright scarlet.

“I’m just shy of 21. In a month.”

“I just turned 24.”

“So you’re about to graduate?”

“Yeah, engineering. You?”

“I’m in my third year of Modern Languages.” Charles explains, and his phone pings loudly. “Actually I was checking on a group project when George called us to gather…” But he ignores the phone and sits right next to Carlos on the bed. Carlos feels the bed dip under his weight and leans towards Charles to bump his shoulder.

“Oh, that’s why you were frowning so hard.” He quips, sliding slightly closer to Charles in his movements. He didn’t seem to notice, but the next question made Carlos take pause.

“So, you were staring.” Charles says, more of a statement than a question.

“What if I was?” Carlos replies, a little defiance creeping into his tone. Charles laughs very softly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Are you straight or bi?” Charles goes right for the kill. Carlos, emboldened by the question, places a hand on Charles’ thigh.

“I’m bi. You?” He replies, clearing his throat and looking for eye contact, finding Charles’ eyes already trained on his.

“Gay.” Charles replies, almost a whisper.

“Huh.” Carlos says, inelegantly, his eyes darting towards Charles’ lips. His cupid’s bow is ridiculously charming and inviting. “Does it really matter, though? I’ve wanted to do this all night.” Carlos says, his face getting so close to Charles’ they’re sharing the same breath.

“I’ve been staring at you since you arrived.” Charles replies, his eyes trailing Carlos’ features and focusing on Carlos’ mouth as he smiles mischievously. Then, Carlos proceeds to lick his lips, and notices how Charles’ pupils start to dilate, and his eyes follow the movement.

“You’re cute.” That’s the last thing he says before he captures Charles’ mouth in his. He licks Charles’ lower lip, making him moan softly, shifting slightly on the bed to make room for Carlos to get closer, and Carlos takes the opportunity to push inside Charles’ mouth, tasting him all over. Charles is incredibly responsive, his body going pliant under Carlos’, who pushes him so he can lie on the bed. He shifts his position to lean on top of Charles, who now is lying flat on the bed’s surface.

After noticing how close Charles is to the edge of the bed, he pushes back on his knees and grabs Charles’ hips, lifting him slightly and moving him so they can both be centered, and Charles kicks off his shoes in the process. Carlos does the same and goes back to kissing Charles with abandon, but Charles takes his time, leaving soft, tantalizing bites on his lower lip, and it makes Carlos shiver.

When Charles is grabbing a fistful of hair and Carlos’ hands are roaming under Charles’ shirt, a faint knock on the door is drowned out with soft whimpers and moans as they both roll their hips together, Carlos fitting a knee between Charles’ legs and making him squirm and groan. Charles pulls at Carlos’ hair and rolls his hips once again, looking for more friction, and Carlos can’t help when a very loud moan escapes his lips.

Another knock, this time loud enough to make them pause.

“—los, the seven minutes are up!” Lando’s voice is heard behind the door, and Carlos can’t help when a petulant little moan escapes him as he leans over Charles to shield him from prying eyes in case they were to open the door.

“I heard you! Give us another second!” Carlos replies as he fixes Charles’ shirt, covering him up again. He tends to his hair, too, that got all rumpled with the pillows.

Charles giggles under him, covering his face with both hands and then using a pillow to hide his expression, but Carlos notices he’s blushing furiously.

“Hey. Charles.” Carlos says, lifting the pillow off Charles’ face and grabbing his chin so he could meet his eyes. “Do you want to go to the movies with me tomorrow night?”

Charles lets out another nervous giggle. He nods slowly, a big smile spreading across his lips and making his face light up. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

Carlos can’t help the moment he leans over again and kisses Charles, softly, tenderly, before he pushes himself off him to retrieve their shoes.

They both stand up at the same time, and as Carlos leads Charles towards the door, the other man pulls his shirt to make him turn.

“Let me fix your hair.” He mumbles, running soft fingers through the thick locks of black hair, and Carlos does everything in his power to suppress a full-body shiver. Still, unable to control himself, he pulls Charles towards him with his right arm, their chests pressed tight against each other.

“If you do that again I’m not leaving this room.” He whispers against Charles’ lips, and Charles lets out a shaky laugh before leaning in to kiss him again, Carlos reciprocating by pressing Charles against the door with a thud.

“George wants his room back!” They hear Alex shout from the other side of the door, and Carlos groans again as he is forced to break away from Charles.

“Mierda.” He curses.

Charles lets out another laugh as he turns around between Carlos’ arms and opens the door, the picture of innocence and decorum.

Until the light hits his face and his lips look bitten-red and a little sore.

[megalony]

Toughen Up

As promised, this is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by a lovely anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: When another station is short staffed, (Y/n) gets transferred over for a shift. But when she gets hurt, nobody takes her seriously and she has to call her family to come and help her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shiver rattled down (Y/n)'s spine and sent goosebumps rising up on her skin when she heard the shower door open. For a brief moment, her arms bound around her chest and she was about to scream until she looked over her shoulder.

It wasn't just anyone on the team wandering in or opening the door by mistake. It wasn't someone trying to sneak a glance at her undressed and trying to clean up ready for their next call out.

It was her husband.

"What are you doing?" (Y/n) took a step closer to the wall and pressed her lips together tightly to smother any noise she might make when Eddie walked in to join her. She was relieved when he shut the door so the draft finally stopped and the water created another aroma of steam to circle around them.

She let her hands drop from around her chest and her eyes closed automatically when his arms circled around her waist.

"Joining you." Eddie tucked his face into (Y/n)'s neck and pressed his lips against her wet, burning skin. He felt the water drip down and flatten his hair and trace down the bridge of his nose. And as fell onto (Y/n)'s shoulder, he felt her shiver against him.

He tightened his arms and pushed forward when (Y/n) groaned as if she might just have the willpower to fight him off and tell him to get out. He knew she wouldn't. He grinned into her neck when she seemed to melt against him instead of push him away.

They were at work. They were on shift.

This was the first time (Y/n) had found Eddie wandering in to take a shower with her while they were at work. He had never been this sneaky before. Usually they were affectionate when their shifts lined up and they worked together, but this was different. This was breaking the rules and testing to see if they got caught or not. (Y/n) didn't want to get caught out.

Her dad wouldn't go easy on them if he found out they were doing this. Evan would have a field day if he found out. Hen would never let them live this down and Chimney would probably die of embarrassment for them.

(Y/n) opened her eyes and looked down when she felt Eddie's hands curve round from her hips to grab and squeeze at her waist. His thumb brushed up and down her skin against the water cascading down around them and (Y/n) took a sharp breath when he suddenly bit down on her neck like a vampire.

"You shouldn't be in here… go next door." (Y/n) motioned her hand to the right to signal any other cubicle. There were four shower blocks in here, Eddie needed to go into one of them and get washed. On his own.

If they were gone for a while at the same time, people were going to notice they were missing and if anyone came in here and found them, they would get disciplined. It wasn't within the rules to take a shower together or cop off while they were still on shift.

"You want me to be lonely?"

"Eddie…" (Y/n) tilted her head back when Eddie moved his lips down and started to bite another mark onto her skin. If it wasn't bad enough that he was taking the risk to be in here, he was also marking her up and if people noticed, they would know what they'd done. "You want us to get reprimanded?" She countered, but her words did very little to persuade him otherwise.

She took her time turning around in his arms and her hands traced down to his chest to try and nudge him backwards. If he was going to do this, she would try and get out with him. (Y/n) would cut her shower short and get out if it stopped Eddie from becoming insatiable like this.

"No one knows you came for a shower. Just let me have five minutes with you, baby. Please? No fun and games, I swear." Eddie dug his fingertips into her hips and pushed her back until her back hit the tiles and she gasped.

They were like ice cubes sticking to her burning skin and the mix of hot and cold made her shake until Eddie tilted his head down so their foreheads were pressed together.

He just wanted five minutes alone with his wife. They were pulling a double shift at the station. Eddie wanted a few minutes alone with his wife before they had to go back on shift and be somewhat professional. He wasn't asking to risk getting caught or risk having sex in the shower and get carried away. He just wanted to be as close as he could to (Y/n) for a little while. Just a few minutes.

She liked the way the water dripped down from his pale pink lips and jumped free from his chin. Each droplet made (Y/n)'s chest tighten while she reached her hands up to cup the back of his neck.

"Five minutes." She warned, keeping her fingertips pressed against his skin as she pulled him down to her level and connected his lips onto hers.

She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave a little bite until Eddie growled and pulled her chest up against his.

He cocooned both arms around her waist and splayed his hands out on her back, gliding his fingertips up and down her skin while his temple pressed into hers. He kept her pressed back against the wall and closed his eyes, leaning his chest down onto hers so they were as close as they could possibly get.

This was all Eddie wanted. He just wanted to hold her. He could restrain himself and stop from dragging this moment out into an hour-long shower where people really would notice they'd gone missing. Eddie had self-control and he could about handle holding her and not taking it any further.

When (Y/n) moved her hand up higher and began dragging her fingers through his wet hair, she felt him groan into her lips and his hands pressed down firmer into her back. Her nails scratched against his scalp and she gave a sharp tug on his roots before Eddie disconnected their lips and moved back down to her neck.

He kept his face tucked into the crook of her neck, eyes still closed and lips floating across her glistening skin with a more gentle touch this time. He didn't bite down or attempt to leave anymore marks, he just glided his lips up and down her neck until (Y/n) was reduced to a shivering mess.

He worked his way back up to her face and connected their lips again, but they both froze when they heard the shower room door open.

"Eddie…" She murmured as quietly as she could against his lips but he shook his head and pressed his lips back to hers as if to make sure she stayed silent.

He kept their noses touching and their eyes locked as Eddie leaned down and moved slowly. His hands wormed their way down her back so one hand was in between her hips and the other gripped the underside of her thigh. (Y/n) could feel his fingertips pinching into her skin so he had a good grip and she pressed her lips together tightly when he slowly hoisted her up.

Her shoulders stayed pressed against the tiles and Eddie pulled her leg until she took the hint and wrapped both legs around his hips so she was sitting on his torso. At least this way, if whoever came in happened to look down at their cubicle, they would only see one pair of legs and not two.

"Eddie?"

A light knock on the door made Eddie roll his eyes and tuck his face back into (Y/n)'s neck while her arms tightened around his shoulders. "What? Has the bell gone or something?" Eddie had never been in the shower when the bell sounded to signal a callout. But he guessed he would be able to hear it in here if it did sound.

"Not yet. Bobby wants to have a word with us all… like now. I haven't seen (Y/n), you know where she is?"

"Buck I'm in the shower, get lost and I'll find my wife when I'm done in here." Eddie tipped his forehead against (Y/n)'s neck so his voice didn't come out muffled.

But he couldn't help but groan as he dug his fingers into (Y/n)'s thighs and kept her pressed against the wall, trying to make sure she didn't slide down or make a noise. Evan might keep this a secret if he found out, but he might go and tell Bobby or tease them too, depending on what mood he was in.

"Alright, alright grumpy."

As soon as the shower door slammed closed, Eddie slumped his head back down onto (Y/n)'s shoulder and sighed. He pulled her chest tighter against his and gave her thigh a squeeze. They would have to get out soon before Evan went searching round the whole station and realised (Y/n) wasn't anywhere to be found.

"I think we'd better go get ready," (Y/n) murmured softly into Eddie's hair and she tangled her fingers at the back of his neck. Waiting for him to slowly untangle from her so they could move.

She felt his hand tighten around her thigh and he slowly pulled back and allowed (Y/n) to drop back down to her feet so he wasn't holding her on his hips anymore. His slid his hands up the expanse of her thighs until he was holding her hips and gave her another searing kiss while (Y/n) reached behind her and turned the shower off.

"Don't worry, we can pick this back up when we get home tonight."

(Y/n) tilted her head back into Eddie's shoulder and smiled as they made their way over towards the rest of the team who were lined up near the truck. They joined the procession line and (Y/n) leaned against Eddie's chest. Grinning to herself when she felt his arm curve around her waist so his hand could hold her hip.

Their eyes all locked on Bobby who was stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. Just as he went to say something, they all winced at the piercing sound of the alarm blaring through the air while the red lights started flashing.

Once the sirens finished, Bobby clapped his hands and looked over them all.

"Alright, I'll make this quick since we've got a call. The 178 station are three people down and they need some helping hands for the next few days. (Y/n), I want you to head over there since you're on a double today. Hen's shift finishes in two hours so I need Eddie and Chimney here as my medics. Then Buck you can go there tomorrow for your shift."

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s heart and she felt her smile dampening, even as she nodded and tried to stay composed.

She didn't want to go to a different team.

One shift was far too long to be working with a completely different team, especially just for one day. (Y/n) would have to get to know them and get into their way of working just for today, they probably wouldn't let her help and she would be sat on the sidelines.

But she couldn't say no.

It wouldn't be fair for (Y/n) to decline and make Eddie go instead or have Evan go when his shift wasn't as long as hers. She and Eddie were on a double shift from last night until eight o'clock tonight. That was why she was going, so she could spend the majority of her shift at the 178 and help them out.

It made no sense to send anyone else when their shifts were going to be over sooner and Eddie was a medic, (Y/n) wasn't. Eddie needed to be here so they still had two medics on the A shift.

And (Y/n) couldn't ask her dad to change send someone else and risk people saying she got preferential treatment. It was hard enough with all the new starters in the 118 when they learned (Y/n) was both Bobby's daughter and Eddie's wife.

"Copy." (Y/n) mumbled quietly while she felt Eddie lean over and kiss the back of her head softly. He could feel the discomfort radiating off of her already.

"Hop in the truck, we can drop you off on the way to the next call."

At least she was getting a lift down there, and she felt Eddie lean down so his lips were hovering over the shell of her ear. "I'll pick you up tonight when we finish." Their shifts had lined up today so Eddie had drove them both here. He could easily swing by the other station and pick (Y/n) up tonight after they both finished.

Once Bobby nodded and motioned his hands towards them, they all hurried over to the lockers. (Y/n) could still feel Eddie glued to her back as they each grabbed their florescent jackets and slung them on before Eddie grabbed both their helmets and headed over to the truck.

(Y/n) liked the fact that their helmets and jackets were matching. They both had 118 printed in the middle, and across the bottom both their jackets said Diaz.

Before they got married, (Y/n)'s jacket had said Nash and one of the team had added 'ER' to the end so it read Nasher. That way it was easier to distinguish who was who when the team needed them on a call since Bobby's jacket read his name, not Captain like his helmet did.

But now (Y/n) had her forever name and she smiled at the feel of Eddie's hands on her hips when the moved to the truck.

He helped her up and climbed in after her, following as (Y/n) moved to sit next to the window on the far side. Chimney and Hen followed in after him and Evan climbed in the front to ride shotgun with Bobby. It was as if they were one big family going on a night out together and Evan, being the favourite child, got to sit up front with his dad.

(Y/n) pulled a headset down over her ears and shrank down into Eddie's side, wishing it was someone else who had to endure an uneasy shift with another team. Why did it have to be her?

It's just for one shift. Just one day. It'll go quick… right?

***

Whatever preconceptions (Y/n) had about joining this team for the day, she had been extremely wrong.

They didn't want to push her to the sidelines and make her watch or be a spare part. It was the exact opposite. Instead of pushing her out because she wasn't one of them, they pushed her forwards instead.

They gave her the jobs they didn't want to do or couldn't be bothered to do themselves.

Head through the burning bulding to shut off the electricity mains at the back? (Y/n) was volunteered. Squeezing down an old mine shaft to find a lost child? Captain McCall gave that job to (Y/n) before she had the chance to tell him she had claustraphobia.

Thank God it wasn't a long mine and the child was conscious and easily able to get back out with (Y/n)'s help.

Now someone needed to go up the ladder and get into the seventh floor of an apartment building to get a woman and child out. And that too was (Y/n)'s job.

She had never done so many odd, strange and straining tasks on the same shift in less than five hours.

And the whole team made it clear she wasn't one of them.

It was as if they were just letting her be here with them, letting her enjoy the experience of working with them. She was a child allowed to play amongst the big kids, but they didn't really want her here.

Can I go home yet? Is it eight o'clock yet so Eddie can come get me?

"This way, you're doing great." (Y/n) smiled behind her at the woman she was guiding down the ladder.

She could feel the woman's head pressing into her shoulder and both hands were clutching (Y/n)'s arm through her jacket. She was afraid of heights and the way she clung to (Y/n) was the way (Y/n) would cling to Eddie whenever she was nervous or uneasy.

Reaching behind her, (Y/n) gave the woman's arm a squeeze before she reached her free hand in front of her to keep hold of the woman's little boy. She couldn't have either of them tripping down the ladder and hurting themselves in front of a team that didn't like or appreciate (Y/n). They might try and report her.

"There we go, Thompson will get you down to the ground safely."

The much taller man, Thompson, gave a curt nod and picked up the little boy while he beckoned the mother over to him.

She seemed reluctant to let (Y/n) go but finally obliged so (Y/n) could unbuckle herself from the safety rope connected to the ladder.

"Alright Diaz, Eddison let's go. Move."

(Y/n) looked across at Eddison who was working on reeling the ladder back down so they could sort out. All they had to do now was make sure the fire was completely out and ensure everyone was on their way to the hospital. The Captain had already talked to the building manager and started to sort things out.

Something sparked.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what it was. Whether it was the mechanism that wound the ladder back in or whether a wire came loose and tripped the electrics, (Y/n) didn't know.

But she knew whatever it was had sent sparks flying out in every direction and had Eddison jumping back when a few volts surged through his hands.

"Christ!" He stumbled back, crashing down on his backside with one hand clinging to the ladder to stop himself falling off the top of the truck.

His weight and force barrelled into (Y/n)'s legs and swept them from beneath her faster than she could react. Her arms flailed out at her sides and a scream burst past her lips when she slipped over the side of the truck. It felt like flying for all of a second before the ground was beneath her and her body plummeted down to a forceful stop.

(Y/n)'s arms coiled into her chest and she landed on her left side with such a bang that all the air left her lungs and he saw stars. Black and white dots sparkled before her eyes and everything spun in circles around her head like she was sat on the waltzers with Chris.

Her heartbeat pulsed through her chest that was quaking up and down against the concrete and after a few seconds, a strangled gasp bubbled past her lips as her lungs finally shocked back into rhythm.

"Diaz… jeez, alright let's get you up."

(Y/n) wasn't sure who it was that leered over her. All she knew was that she was in too much pain and shock to want to get up. And when a hand grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked her up to her feet, (Y/n) all but screamed.

She wobbled back and forth, stumbling back three paces until the man in front of her held her by the shoulders with such a tight grip it felt like he was going to squeeze her like a balloon until she popped. He kept hold of her until she was no longer swaying on her feet and her body was finally being held up by her legs that had turned to jelly.

Why did he drag her up? Couldn't he see that the air had been knocked out of her? Why didn't he just let her recover for a few seconds first? Couldn't he have checked her over before he got her up, what if she had broken her leg or her ankle?

Tears burned down (Y/n)'s face like acid rain and she sniffed, drawing in a deep breath as her head clouded over.

She moved her right hand to try and delicately touch her chest, but even her fingertips grazing over her side made her whimper and sent her knees buckling. She had broken her ribs. She could feel it. Her chest was aching and throbbing and (Y/n) was sure if she took her jacket off she would see her ribcage throbbing with her heartbeat.

"You okay Diaz?"

It was Eddison. He climbed down from the truck and waved his hands back and forth to shake out the pins and needles he'd gotten.

"Ribs… ribs b-broken." She wheezed, unable to draw in a proper breath which left her body stumbling back until she slumped against the truck to prop herself up.

"Captain, Diaz got an injury." Eddison was the only one out of the team who didn't seem annoyed or phased by (Y/n) being on their team today. He was the only one who made an effort to talk to her and right now, he was the only one with sorrow in his eyes and concern etched onto his face.

Thompson, who had dragged her to her feet- something (Y/n) knew none of the trained medics on her own team would have done- just huffed and looked her up and down like she was causing a big fuss over nothing.

She had fallen. Her ribs were surely broken or in the very least, fractured. She could barely breathe and she felt like she was going to pass out.

Did no one in this team care if someone got hurt? Did they all have super healing powers like Wolverine? Could they continue with broken bones like it was a sprain? Well (Y/n) wasn't like that. She was human, she was in agony and she felt like she could barely breathe. She needed someone to see if her ribs were broken and help her.

She needed her team. She needed Eddie. He was the only one who (Y/n) would let assess her when she was injured or unwell. She wanted her husband here so he could check her over and see if she was okay.

Panic burst to life in (Y/n)'s chest when Captain McCall stood a few feet in front of her and Eddison.

He looked them both up and down, scrutinising and assessing them while he glared through narrowed eyes. His gaze made (Y/n) feel like a child or a weakling who had done something wrong. She knew if she were back on her own team, they would have been more understanding and forgiving and concerned. And not just because her dad was her Captain. Bobby was fair, he didn't favouritise and he cared greatly when anyone on his team was injured.

"You're clearly up and moving, you'll be fine. Everyone back in the truck, let's go."

Shrugging his shoulders, Eddison lowered his head and gave (Y/n) a sorrowful look before he turned and heaved into the truck, groaning a she did so.

Was that it? She didn't get checked out or assessed or even get the chance to talk to a medic? She was just glared into like the Captain had X-ray vision and deemed fit and capable to work. To Hell with the tears pouring down her face. Who cared that she could barely breathe? What did it matter that she was in mass agony and couldn't stand up straight?

"C- can't I see a medic?" Ragged breaths escaped her lips as she tilted her head back into the truck and looked across at Captain McCall who she felt very uneasy with.

But the way he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes made (Y/n) shiver and she knew undoubtedly that she wasn't going to get any help or compassion from anyone on this team.

"Your hubby isn't here to coddle you today and if you're gonna try and follow my team, Diaz, you need to toughen up. Now all of you, get in the truck. Let's move."

Tremors coursed through (Y/n)'s chest and she bit down on her lip to stop the tears from falling. Why did showing she was in pain mean she was weak or useless or any different? What good would it do to be stoic and pretend she could handle anything when she couldn't? Hiding pain would only prolongue her suffering and make her injuries worse if she didn't get them seen to.

But there was nothing (Y/n) could do. This wasn't her team, they had all made that very clear. No one was going to help her if the Captain thought she was being pretentious.

Her right arm bound around her chest and she leaned forward, coiling over to try and reduce the pain in her chest every time she took a breath. Her body leaned to the left and she used the door to propell herself up into the truck.

She slumped down into the seat next to the window, making herself as small as possible. Shrinking away from the others as they all climbed in and started talking about what they would be eating later on for tea at the station.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be with them for that.

She wasn't staying on this team any longer.

She wanted to go back to the 118; to her home.

Her arms stayed cocooned around her chest that was pulsing and pounding and she leaned her head against the window.

It hurt to keep her eyes open and she tried to focus on the passing scenery rather than look at the four other people in the back of the truck with her who were all staring at her every few seconds.

They thought she was weak. They thought she was being a hypochondriac or making this up. They thought she was weak and she was complaining about a few little bruises. She was one of them. (Y/n) was a firefighter, she had been in a few accidents over the years, she had dealt with broken bones and burns and concussions. And each of them had hurt and blinded her with pain. She knew her ribs were broken and she needed them tending to.

As soon as the truck pulled up in the station, (Y/n) flung the door open and flung herself down. Her arms bound tighter to her chest, her body coiled over and leaned forward and she pushed herself to walk down the station and head towards the locker room.

It was empty. (Y/n) couldn't have been more thankful that no one was in there and that no one else followed her into the room.

She headed over to the single locker on the far right. The spare one with no tape across the top and no name scribbled across. It took a lot of effort to shrug off her jacket and she whimpered, chomping down on her lip to make sure she didn't make a sound.

Ruffling through her bag, (Y/n) found her phone and shuffled backwards. She eased herself down onto the bench, swallowing a groan at the shockwaves that rattled up her chest.

She didn't think before she clicked on her dad's contact and pressed the phone to her ear.

She needed help. She couldn't stay here any longer. She wanted to go home to her family.

"Hey sweetheart, how's it going over there? God, we could of used you're referee skills this morning."

He answered. (Y/n) could of fainted with relief when she heard his voice. They were all at work, it wasn't always easy to answer phone calls when they were on shift. At least something was going right today.

The sound of her dad's voice made a tidal wave of tears flush down (Y/n)'s face. She leaned forward, keeping her right arm pinned to her chest as she clamped her lips together and swallowed down a cry. The last thing she wanted to do was cry down the phone to her dad, but she couldn't seem to help it.

"Dad, c- can you help me?" The way she hiccupped through her words made (Y/n) hang her head and scold herself.

Was she being silly? Was she being a child, asking her dad to help her and come get her? Should she just try to put on a brave face go finish the ret of the shift? Could she even finish this shift with broken ribs? With the way this team was throwing her in the deep end, another call might just finish (Y/n) off, and not in a good way either.

"Help you? Sweetheart what's wrong, where are you?" Concern flooded Bobby's voice as his free hand moved to his hip and frown lines appeared on his face.

Why did his daughter need help? She was with another team, she should be surrounded by people there who were willing and able to help her with whatever situation she was in. Did she not feel comfortable asking them for help? What kind of problem was she having?

Was she even still at the 178 station?

"At the station… I think I- I think I've broke my ribs. Dad it hurts, can I c-come back?"

The sob at the end of her words made Bobby's skin crawl and his lips curled in distaste. He lifted his head and looked through his office window just as Evan and Eddie walked by.

Moving across the room, Bobby slammed his fist down on the window three times until the pair of them looked over at him. "Eddie." He pointed to the door before turning his back to the window, silently telling his son in law to get in the office with him.

"Cap?" Eddie gave a worried look across at Evan before he closed the door behind him and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. He stood next to Bobby with an arched brow, his attention focused on the phone in his hand as he tried to listen and work out who was on the other end of the line.

"(Y/n)'s had an accident…" Bobby pulled the phone away from his ear and put in on speakerphone. He held the phone between him and Eddie who was now tense with raised shoulders and snarling lips. "Sweetheart, what's happened? Hasn't Captain McCall gotten someone to take a look at you if they're broken?"

"Broken? What's broken? Baby what's happened?"

Eddie's hands slipped from his pockets and moved to hold his hips as his weight fidgeted from foot to foot. What had (Y/n) broken? What had she been doing on shift to get hurt?

He could feel a cold shiver crawling down his spine when he watched Bobby silently point to his chest. She'd broken her ribs.

"He said I… I should toughen up. I can't stay here, I w-wanna come back, I need to… I need Eddie to take a look." Whether she was at this station or back home at the 118, the only person (Y/n) would want to assess her was her husband.

She would have let one of the medics here take a look but she wouldn't of been happy with them trying to bandage her up. She wanted Eddie. Her personal medic.

"Toughen up- he told you to toughen up? Who the fuck does he think he is?!" Eddie's voice boomed down the line and made (Y/n) shiver and coil in on herself.

She had caused problems now.

She had riled up her dad and her husband. They weren't going to let this go. But she couldn't find the will to care or focus on that anymore. She needed them to come down and get her, she had no way of getting back to her own station house and she couldn't walk or bus it. She needed her family.

"We're gonna come and get you sweetheart, alright? We're coming down right now."

***

Eddie could feel the nerves radiating off of Bobby and multiplying his own as the team climbed down from the truck and stormed through the open doors of the 178 station.

But his anger started to overpower his panic when he looked around and suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure.

If (Y/n) had broken or in the very least, damaged her ribs, why hadn't someone sat her down and tried to take a look at her? Why could Eddie see his wife struggling to stock one of the trucks?

He could see the way she was leaning to the left with her shoulders and upper chest leant forward like she had an oxygen tank weighing down on her shoulders. The pain was evident on her face in the way she closed her eyes and how her cheeks sucked in and her lips pursed when she tried to push something up into the truck.

She shouldn't be moving or lifting anything if she had hurt herself, she needed to sit down and rest.

Reaching to the left, Eddie patted Bobby's arm and pointed towards (Y/n) before he jogged over in her direction.

Eddie could feel Bobby hot on his heels and the rest of the team following swiftly. None of the team were sure why they were here. Evan was under the impression they were here to help with a bigger call out, but Hen and Chimney noticed the way Bobby had gone mute and wasn't focusing on what they were saying. something wasn't right.

"Baby,"

(Y/n) coiled her arms round her chest and snapped her head to the right when a familiar voice caught her attention.

Tears welled up in her eyes when Eddie stormed over to her. She looked around the station, relieved no one in this team were paying any attention or looking in this direction. She didn't want them to know she had called her team for help. (Y/n) wanted to climb back into the 118 truck and head back home before anyone knew she had gone. She wanted to disappear.

Her weight pushed onto her back foot when Eddie barrelled over to her. His hands curled around her arms and he moved her a few feet away from the truck so he could look at her.

"Can we go? Can I come back?"

Her words made Bobby wince. It was almost as if she thought he had sent her here as a punishment and she was begging to come home. This hadn't been done to hurt her. Bobby thought this station would treat her equally and look after her like they looked after all their own. Clearly he had misjudged this station entirely.

"Not until Eddie's checked you over and I've had a word with the Captain."

"Dad, please…" (Y/n) shook her head but she gasped when Eddie moved her arms so she was holding them out at her sides.

She didn't have the will to do anything but stay compliant as Eddie dug his fingers down into her waistband and pulled her shirt from her trousers. Her head tilted back and her lips rolled together tightly as Eddie scrunched up her shirt until it was bunched up just beneath her bra, allowing him a clear view of her chest.

His fingertips were firm but somehow still gentle as they trailed up and down her chest. He pressed down on each rib on her left side, taking note of when and where (Y/n) winced, coiled away from him and how she wheezed and gasped when he applied pressure.

He rubbed his fingertips in circles, pressing down on her ninth and tenth ribs which seemed to act as a button to make (Y/n)'s knees cave and had her body jolting down to the right.

"Three are definitely broken and there's a lot of swelling. She needs an X-ray and an MRI."

Eddie didn't want to take any chances. He needed (Y/n) to have an X-ray to check if the breaks were clean and if she had more than one break in each rib. He could see the way (Y/n) was wheezing and that could be a sign that her ribs were broken inwards towards her lungs. He couldn't take the risk of her getting a collapsed lung or breathing into her chest cavity. They had to be safe.

"Baby what happened?"

"I came off the ladder, Eddison collided with me… I fell off the truck-"

"You fell of the top of the truck? Why the fuck didn't someone take you to the hospital?!"

Eddie's hands moved down and gripped (Y/n)'s hips so fiercely he pulled her off balance. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she leaned forward, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck so she didn't have to look at any of them anymore. She didn't want her family to look at her the same way this team had.

"Get her in the truck; she's coming back with us. Where's McCall?" Bobby's hands clenched into fists at his sides and he turned on his heels and stormed past the truck.

His eyes scanned the station as he headed towards where he presumed the Captain's office would be. But he didn't have to search far before a familiar face came into view. He watched McCall waltz across the station floor, clipboard in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other that Bobby wanted to throw at him to gain his attention.

"McCall." His voice shouted dominance and assertiveness while he stormed over to the shorter captain and stood head to head with him. Looking down with arched brows and upper lip curled in distain.

"Nash, what're you doing here? We already got the replacement you sent across this morning."

"I'm here to take her back because she's got seriously injured on your watch. So tell me why you haven't gotten her seen by a medic or taken her to hospital already?"

"Did she call you?" The way McCall leaned around Bobby to try and look for (Y/n) set off a fire burning within Bobby and it made Eddie take a deep breath, supressing a growl. Of course she called them. She needed help and she had every right to call her family when no one here was looking out for her or taking care of her when she was ill.

(Y/n) trailed her hands down from Eddie's shoulders to curl both her arms tightly around his bicep. She leaned into him, despite the pain it caused in her chest and the lack of breath it caused.

"Do your people understand the chain of command? She got knocked down, but she was fine and she got back up. I can't afford to take all my guys down to the emergency room when they get a bruise. My team know how to look after themselves-"

"And my team know if they're hurt, they can rely on me to make sure they're okay. I do not call three broken ribs and extensive swelling as being fine and I sure as Hell don't accept you denying one of my team medical attention because of your uneducated opinion."

"Broken? Come on she was exaggerating."

(Y/n)'s arms coiled to her chest and she took a step towards Hen when Eddie suddenly pulled away from her. She felt Hen's hands move to her arms and she glued herself into her friend, flinching at all of their reactions.

She could see her dad doing his level best to keep his composure, something Eddie was finding very hard to do. While Chimney stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head with a grimace. And Evan huffed, nose crinkling as his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Why don't we break your ribs and see how long you can last on shift?"

"Eddie…"

"Disrespect my wife like that again and you'll be the one needing an X-ray. I don't give a fuck if your helmet says Captain, you sure as Hell don't act like one."

He would start throwing fists if this man or anyone else in this God forsaken station said anything about (Y/n).

She was a damn good firefighter and she had been injured on duty, she didn't deserve to be berated and disrespected like this. She deserved compassion and understanding and to be taken seriously. There was no doubt that she had been hurt badly today and she needed to take time off from work now to recover. She didn't need to be forced to continue working and make herself worse.

(Y/n) shouldn't have to call her family down here to help her and stand up to this team because she was hurt. This wasn't fair on her.

"I'm taking my daughter back to my station, where my team will assess her and take her to the emergency room. You can expect a call from the Chief first thing in the morning when I file a complaint of discrimination and misconduct." Bobby turned to the side and pointed at his team. "Everyone in the truck."

His head snapped back over his shoulder to look back at McCall when he heard a quiet "Your daughter?" echo behind him.

So he truly didn't know. With (Y/n)'s name being changed to Diaz, not many people in the other stations knew she was related to Bobby. Sure, some people knew. Others just knew Bobby had his daughter on his team. But they didn't interact or converse with other stations a lot other than when they met on the job or at big parties.

Bobby hadn't said anything, he never did just in case someone tried to treat (Y/n) any differently or give her a harder time. Clearly, this team had heard she worked with her husband on her team, but they didn't know she was the Captain's daughter.

"Didn't I mention that?" Bobby tossed over his shoulder without looking back as he moved towards the truck.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and moved her hands to hold Eddie's arm again and pull it into her chest. She felt Hen's hands stay on her shoulders as they walked in a small line towards the truck. She had never been so happy to see the 118 truck, ready to take her back to her proper home, with her family.

It hurt to heave herself up into the truck and she couldn't help but whimper when she slumped down into a seat. But something sweet formed on her lips when Eddie sat down next to her.

She watched him lean over her, pressing his lips to her temple in the process as he grabbed her belt and carefully clipped it round her, trying to be mindful of her chest. Once done, Eddie looped his arm around the back of her shoulders, grazing his fingertips up and down her arm as he tucked her into his chest and smothered his lips against the back of her head.

Once they were all seated and Bobby started the truck, (Y/n) looked around her team. Her family.

She had Hen on her right, Eddie on her left and Chimney and Evan sat in front of her with calming smiles and nothing but comfort and understanding pooling in their eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to come back and get me." She murmured quietly, tilting her head down until her chin tucked into her chest.

She felt so embarrassed. She felt so childish, calling her dad to come and get her and sort things out for her, but it had been (Y/n)'s only choice. She felt like a child being picked up from school when her team came to get her, but she had also never felt safer than when Eddie and her dad turned up and the rest of her team clearly had her back, whether they agreed with her or not.

"You kidding? You think we'd leave you there after what they've just done? You're part of this team, not theirs. We'll look after you." Leaning across, Chimney patted her knee and nodded at her with a comforting smile.

"Nobody is going back to that station- or any other station, for that matter. We stay here with each other."

Bobby's voice was authoritive and firm and not up for debate. He wasn't allowing any more swaps or shift changes. If other stations were low, they would have to deal with it themselves. He wasn't risking the safety of his team to help other stations that clearly didn't appreciate or care about the staff members that came to their station to help.

"What's our motto?"

A soft grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips as she leaned her head on Eddie's shoulder and tucked her face into his neck.

"Who cares?"

[edgeray]

mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!!  If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company. 

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head. 

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush. 

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.  

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you. 

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers. 

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore. 

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely. 

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile. 

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head. 

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?” 

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her. 

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her. 

You nod. “You want to try?” 

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface. 

“What is it?” 

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste. 

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes. 

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread. 

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable. 

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure. 

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.  

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter. 

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully. 

[saintsenara]

idk if you have ever talk about this before but in case you havent, what do you think of the infamous "Albus Severus" Potter name? overall how do you feel about Harry's naming his kids?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'll be honest, its infamy always strikes me as a classic case of the fandom not being able to separate what characters would do from what they would do.

because i completely appreciate that most people probably wouldn't name their children after a teacher who bullied them and a man who sent them to the death...

but harry would.

albus severus makes perfect sense as a name on the basis of who harry is, how he understands honour and lineage, how he comes to think of both snape and dumbledore over the course of deathly hallows, and how those thoughts would expand and deepen as time passes after the end of the pre-epilogue canon.

i also don't find the james and lily thing weird. i know plenty of people who are named after their dead relatives, including a couple of people who are named after murdered relatives, and it's not something anyone i know would look twice at. nor do the families of any of those people have trouble understanding them as their own person. i presume this would be considered stranger - and/or more inhibiting to a child's sense of identity - in other parts of the world, but i just understand it as something families do.

what does strike me as odd, though, is how much of this fandom forgets two things: that there are generally two people involved in naming a child; and that ginny is not a doormat.

it always seems to me that - whether people think the kids' names are suitable or not - harry is assumed to have been exclusively responsible for them, while ginny is assumed either to have been railroaded into doing what harry wanted, or to have nobly forfeited any say in the naming process because her only goal in life is to sacrifice everything to make harry happy.

[when it comes to the boys' names, at least. people do seem to go for the idea that ginny's responsible for the luna part of lily luna.]

but i think this is nonsense - and it clearly puts enough of a bee in my bonnet that i've had her say so in two pieces of my writing...

in everlasting ink:

James will be born with the cord wrapped around his neck, grey and still, and there will be hours - or maybe just seconds which feel like hours - in which she doesn't breathe, skin going cold and vision whiting, until he roars, rattly and indignant, as though being born was an unwelcome disturbance in his otherwise busy day.   That's why she'll want him to have Sirius' name. His first cry will sound like a motorbike.

and [when i finally get around to posting the next chapter] one year in every ten:

'What on earth possessed you to agree to that name?' 'I didn't agree to it. I picked it. I hope you don't think so little of Harry that you think he'd deny me a say in the names of my own children?' 'But Albus -' 'He was very kind to me. Dumbledore. After what happened... It was like I was sleepwalking. Nothing felt real. It was like I wasn't fully in my own body. And everyone was acting like everything was fine - yay, Ginny's back to normal! - and I just went along with it. I don't know why... There was this afternoon, just before the end of term, and I was trying to go down to the lake, but I'd got stuck - I guess that's the word - on the stairs. I literally couldn't move... And then Dumbledore came round the corner and he said "are you quite alright, Miss Weasley?" and I said "oh yes, I’m right as rain" and he just looked at me - you know the way he used to look at you, like he could read your mind - and it all came bursting out of me. How I didn't think I'd ever feel happy again. How I thought a little bit of me might have been left in the Chamber. How I worried my whole life had been broken by what you did to me and it would never be fixed. And he said - I'll never forget it - "there is nothing wrong with being broken, Miss Weasley, if you try to see the cracks as how the -" '"- light gets in". I should have known that was a pre-rehearsed bit of sentimentality...' 'I remember thinking about it when he died. He was lying there, broken, and I remember thinking "where's your light now?" But it turned out that he knew what he was doing.' 'That's one way of putting it...' 'And then we picked Severus for his middle name because we thought it would annoy Snape and that would be funny. And it did and it was.'

[mountttmase]

I’m Yours

Note - thank you so much to the anon who sent the request in for this and I’m sorry I took me forever 😂 I changed a few bits but I still hope you love it 🩷 would love to know what everything thinks 💕

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 4.4k

Warnings - angst & fluff

‘You all set?’ Mason smiled over at you, squeezing your thigh gently before placing it back on the wheel. You simply smiled at him, too full of nerves to say anything right now but it seemed to be enough for him as he smiled back at you just as brightly.

Reece didn’t live too far from Mason and he insisted on driving as he knew he shouldn’t be drinking and that would force him not to so he could get the pair of you home in one piece. You’d promised to stay at Masons that night so you could have a chilled day tomorrow before you both went back to work.

Parties were not your thing, but Mason seemed really excited for tonight so you promised you’d tag along and even though you missed the warmth of your bed it was worth it to see the smile on his face as you were getting ready to go.

The sound of a text coming through on your phone made Mason eye you curiously as if he wanted to know who it was and you laughed whilst shaking your head at his nosiness.

‘It’s your mum, Mase. She wants to know what time you’ll be home from training on Tuesday cause she needs to drop some stuff round’

‘Why is she texting you then?’ He laughed as you put your phone away.

‘Cause you never bloody answer her. I speak to her more than you at this point’ you commented and he rolled his eyes playfully at you, secretly happy that that you were so close with his family.

‘Tell her I’ll be back at four, but I might be asleep when she comes’

‘Can you not skip your nap for one day?’

‘If you want me to be miserable then sure’ he laughed and you hadn’t even realised you’d arrived as he’d taken your mind off of everything. A wave of anxiousness suddenly overtaking you as you looked up at Reece’s house. ‘You ready, baby?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be’ you laughed, turning to open you door but a hand on your elbow made you stop as you turned back to look at him. His face was serious but you could see there was a slight smile underneath his stoney demeanour.

‘I really do appreciate you coming with me tonight’ he told you, reaching for your face so he could cup your jaw. ‘I know it’s not your thing and I promise we don’t have to be here that long’ he whispered kissing your cheeks gently. ‘Then we can go home and cuddle and sleep and do whatever you want’ he smiled, placing a heavy kiss to you lips before smiling brightly at you.

‘It’s fine Mase, we don’t have to leave early. I haven’t seen Sophia in a while so it’ll be good to catch up’

‘You sure?’ He laughed and you nodded gently. ‘Come on then’ he smiled and he let you go before meeting at the front of his car. ‘You look so beautiful’ he told you quietly, wrapping an arm around your waist as he led you up to the door and you blushed into his chest at his compliment.

Reece was soon to open the door and the pair of you followed him into the kitchen where you helped yourselves to a drink and chatted with whoever was in there until Sophia appeared, dragging you away slightly so you could catch up with her.

Even though you were apart, your eyes were constantly checking where he was and his eyes never seemed to stray to far from you either to the point you’d laugh at each other every time your eyes met.

About 45 minutes in, you eyes wondered to meet Mason but he wasn’t looking at you this time, too engrossed with whatever Chilly was saying to him and it looked serious, a slight look of panic on Masons face as he bit his nails before he looked to you, his face seemingly shocked before it softened as he sent you a smile. You weren’t quite sure what was going on so you quickly excused yourself from the girl’s conversation and made your way over to him just as Chilly was leaving. Slotting yourself in between his legs as he held you at your waist.

‘You okay, love? You look like you’ve seen a a ghost’ you laughed and he gave you a reassuring smile before kissing your jaw.

‘Of course. It’s nothing I promise’

‘You sure?’

‘Positive’ he smiled before kissing your neck, making your tummy flutter. ‘Shall we get you another drink?’ He offered, taking you by the hand back into the kitchen and you couldn’t help but notice how he seemed a little on edge, his eyes darting across the room every time someone moved but his eyes always softened whenever they looked into yours.

‘Y/n!’ You heard Sophia shout from outside the kitchen as you giggled as you pulled away from him.

‘I think I’m being summoned. See you in a bit?’ You laughed and he kissed your forehead whilst nodding before letting you go.

You couldn’t get your mind off of Masons sudden change in mood, looking out for him constantly and when you returned from a quick trip to the loo, you had a feeling you knew what was wrong.

Mason was stood up right, his arms crossed over his chest almost defensively as he stood talking in a small group. You could recognise Chilly and Reece but the curvy brunette with legs for days was unfamiliar to you. She stood with her back to you as she spoke animatedly to them, all laughing but you could tell Masons was only laughing out of politeness as his eyes were glued to the floor. The thing that really made you tick though was the way she kept placing her hand on his arm and leaning into him even when he moved away from her but you felt weird for spying and made your way back to the group of girlfriends you were with.

‘Do you know who that is?’ You asked Sophia, motioning over to the mystery girl but Sophia just shrugged so you nodded, figuring it must be a friend of theirs that he’d never mentioned before but you were still on edge about the whole thing, getting bad vibes from here even though you knew nothing about her.

‘Do you fancy going to sit outside for a bit, I feel I like I’m overheating in here’ Sophia laughed and you agreed, following her out to the much quieter garden where you sat by the pool, nursing your drinks and quizzing her about the upcoming trip her and Kai were about to make back home.

‘Oh my god, you’re Sophia right?’ You suddenly heard, the thick American accent unfamiliar to you but as you looked up you saw the same girl who was stood talking to Mason not too long ago. You recognised her short purple satin dress and flowing hair but looking at her face now there was no denying she was beautiful. Big brown eyes and pouty lips with her makeup done to perfection and you felt inadequate almost immediately as she took a seat opposite the pair of you. ‘I met Kai a few summers back, really sweet guy you’ve got a keeper there’ she smiled and Sophia laughed awkwardly as her eyes flashed to you, clearly noticing how she was completely ignoring your existence. ‘I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself, my names Ruby’ she nodded before her eyes finally fell to you. ‘You’re y/n, right?’ She asked, the same smile on her face but it didn’t quite reach her eyes now as she looked down at you. Her tone now seeming slightly disinterested as her face took on an unimpressed expression.

‘Um yeah, that’s me’ you nodded uncomfortably and you watched her eyebrows raise sarcastically.

‘I thought so, Masons told me all about you’ she told you, her eyes flickering over you before she plastered a fake smile on her face.

‘Oh? You know Mason?’

‘Of course, I mean we haven’t spoken in just over a year but I guess I know why now’ she winked and your blood ran cold at what she was implying. ‘I’m glad he’s finally found someone after everything I put him through’ she laughed and you had to bite your lip to try and stop yourself from crying.

‘The guys have never mentioned you before’ Sophia said, holding you hand under the table as she could tell you were a little uneasy about the whole situation and you were grateful she was there and seemed to be sticking up for you.

‘I’ve been travelling for a while so I haven’t really been around that much. I was definitely closest with Mason like we hung out all the time for months but he’s hard to get ahold of now and there’s obviously reasons he’s never spoken about me. I thought it might be cute to surprise him after not seeing him for so long’ she laughed ‘I get it though, he’s moved on and he doesn’t need me like he did. I guess it’s my fault in the first place since I left. I mean he practically begged me not to but I told him I can’t stay in London forever you know? I wasn’t ready to tie myself down but yeah I’m back now so I guess we’ll see what happens’ she laughed and you felt her look over at you but your eyes were focused on your lap as you couldn’t quite face looking at her. ‘I’m surprised he’s not out here with you, our Masey has always been a clingy one huh? It felt like he never let me out of his sight sometimes’ She giggled and you felt the anger boil up inside you, squeezing Sophia’s hand to try and calm yourself and let her know you were uncomfortable.

‘Well I guess Mason knows he’s got nothing to worry about with y/n’ Sophia quipped and you watched as Ruby scowled ever so slightly at her.

‘Anyway, it was great to meet you guys. I better go make the rounds but I’ll see you guys in a bit’ she told you and you put on your brave face to say goodbye to her. your gaze following her all the way inside.

As soon as she was out of sight you let out a wobbly breath, your eyes stinging immediately as you swallowed hard. You knew Sophia was looking down at you sympathetically and you couldn’t face any of that right now but when she pulled you into her arms you almost lost it.

‘Please don’t listen to a word she said. I was around back then and I don’t remember her at all. Whatever she had with Mason she’s probably making it out to be way more than it was’

‘It’s fine’ you laughed wiping your eyes as she rubbed up and down your back gently. ‘Honestly, like I get he has a past and stuff I just don’t need it rubbed in my face’

‘Yes there was no need for any of what she said, she’s clearly just jealous and trying to get under you skin’

‘Well it worked’ you laughed, rolling you eyes as you tried to let her know you were okay.

‘Shall I go find Mason?’ She offered but you shook you head. Not ready to be face to face with him yet as it was just clicking now that he’d known she was here and didn’t warn you. ‘Looks like he found us first’ she whispered, casing you to look up and see Mason walking over to you, his face full of confusion as he took the pair of you in. Sophia stood up, squeezing your shoulder before making way for Mason. You knew they were whispering about you but you ignored them as you wiped your eyes to try and make yourself look a bit more presentable for him and not let him know you were upset.

‘Baby? Talk to me, what’s wrong?’ Mason asked you gently, kneeling in front of you and placing his hands on your thighs as he tried to catch your eyes. You knew he knew what was wrong and you didn’t want to tell him right now so you kept your eyes down and your mouth shut. You heard him sigh quietly before kissing your forehead. ‘Would you like to go?’

‘Yes please’ you whispered and you didn’t refuse him when he held his hand out for you to take. You followed him out, using the side door so you could slip out without anyone noticing and once he’d joined you in the car you kept your eyes trained out the window. ‘Can you take me home please’ you told him quietly and you saw him nod out the corner of your eye.

‘Yeah, I’m taking us home, babe’

‘No. Not your house. I want to go home’

‘What? Why?’

‘I just want to go home. I want my own bed’ you told him quietly, hearing him gulp as he started the car.

‘Baby’ he sighed but you ignored him, moving your hands away so he couldn’t hold any part of you.

‘Please’ you told him quietly and you heard him let out a heavy sigh before he drove off. You both sat in silence, you in your own little world as you thought over everything Ruby had said to you. You knew Mason hadn’t been in a long term relationship for a few years before he’d met you and he’d fooled around with a few girls in that chunk of time but this whole situation made you feel uncomfortable.

It wasn’t long before he was driving up your road and you sent a quick text to your housemate to let her know you’d be in shortly as not to give her a heart attack but Mason had other ideas. Not even stopping outside your building as he carried on straight passed without a word.

‘Mason? What are you doing? I said I wanted to go home’

‘I know’

‘Well can you turn around then please’

‘No. We’re going to mine and we’re talking about this. If you want me to take you home after then fine but I’m not letting you go and leaving things like this’ he told you calmly and you felt your eyes sting, turning to face out the window so he couldn’t see how upset you were. You didn’t want to talk to him about this right now, you wanted to rant so you could get a coherent response together before addressing it with him but he clearly had other plans, driving back to his in silence as you replayed Ruby’s words in your head.

Once he was parked, you got out of the car before he could say anything else and you let yourself in with the key he’d gifted you a few weeks ago. You didn’t know where you wanted to go and you ended up in the kitchen so you could grab yourself a drink of water. You were beginning to wonder where he was when he emerged, his face full of guilt as he caught your eye.

‘Are you gonna talk to me?’ He asked quietly

‘Do you not have anything to say first?’

‘I’m guessing Ruby spoke to you? Whatever she said it’s probably bullshit’

‘Why didn’t you tell me who she was? Or that she was there?’ You asked, your voice wobbly as you let your emotions take over. Mason looked heart broken as he looked over to you, starting to take a step so he could comfort you but you held your hands up to halt his movements.

‘Baby, please’

‘No, Mase. I feel like an idiot’ you told him, tears falling from your eyes from a mix of sadness and frustration. He completely ignored your signals for him to keep away from you and pulled you into his arms. You cursed the way you melted into him as your tears flowed quicker but you saw no use in trying to fight him off not matter how upset you were. He started rubbing slow circles on your back as you covered your face, sobbing into your hands. You hated how emotional you got over these things but it had taken a lot for you to open yourself up to Mason and this felt like a bit of a slap in the face.

Yours and Masons lives were a million miles apart and that was one of the reasons why you held back so much when the pair of you first met. You didn’t feel like you could belong in his world full of money and nice things whilst you were busting a gut at at your 9-5 whilst studying in the evenings but he always told you none of that mattered and he made you feel worthy. You knew you weren’t like like girls he’d spoken to in the past, Ruby being a prime example, but he made you feel loved and cherished and you felt like you were good for him as much as he was good for you.

‘You’re not an idiot baby. Please don’t think that. I’m the idiot.’ He told you with a laugh but you weren’t in the mood to laugh along with him. ‘Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you upset, love’ he whispered, kissing over your hairline gently but you didn’t have the courage to look up at him. You felt his arms drop to your thighs, hooking underneath and lifting you up so your legs and arms wrapped around him, your face hidden in his neck as he walked you out of the room and upstairs to bed. He laid you down and rolled you onto your side before crawling in behind you so he could spoon you.

You weren’t the best at speaking about your feelings and Mason knew this. The pair of you realised how much easier it was to to talk things out when you weren’t looking at each others faces so you often spent serious chats cuddled up like this. He let you calm down and get your breath back before kissing over your shoulder gently.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was there. Chilly told me just before you came over to ask what was wrong and I panicked. I didn’t want to upset you and I figured she’d stay away from you so I thought it would just be best not to say anything’ he told you quietly and you shut your eyes so you could focus on your thoughts.

‘I get that, it just sucks. Like I feel like everyone was in on it and I wasn’t like some sort of joke’

‘That’s not it at all baby, I was trying to protect you’ he claimed, holding you to him a little bit tighter. ‘Tell me what she said so I can tell you it’s all rubbish’ he whispered and you felt a fresh wave of tears form in your eyes but you swallowed them down, wanting to let Mason know why you were so upset.

‘She said she knew you from a few years ago, that she left to go traveling and you’d begged her to stay and she didn’t and then basically accused me of being the reason you and her don’t speak now. Like she was the one that got away and she called you our Masey and said you were clingy’ you told him and you felt him sigh deeply behind you. ‘She also said she was back now like I should be worried about it like one look at her will make you leave me’

‘Sweetheart, I was never hers to begin with’ he huffed and you could feel him getting agitated. ‘I met her a few summers back when I was in America and she told me she was coming to visit England soon. We kept in touch and yeah when she came over for a couple of months we had a bit of thing. She told me after a month or so she wanted something serious with me but I didn’t. Like as shit as it sounds, I only saw her as someone to mess around with’ he told you, his words stinging you slightly as it felt weird to hear him talk about other girls, especially in this way. ‘She told me she was leaving if I didn’t change my mind so I told her to go cause I wouldn’t be. It was never my intention to have a girlfriend I just wanted a bit of fun for the summer. She was blowing up my phone constantly telling me I was making a mistake and that she could be good for me but I just ignored her and she stopped eventually but it’s obviously pissed her off. And like I get it maybe I was a bit of a dick to her but I was clear with her from the start what I wanted and she agreed to it’

You believed him but it didn’t make any of what he was saying or what had happened any easier to swallow.

‘So it wasn’t a proper relationship?’ You asked him softly and you felt him pull you towards him to he could kiss your cheek.

‘Not at all. She came to a few parties with me and yeah we slept together a few times but never in here like I never bought her home’ he told you and you felt yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. ‘It was supposed to be just a bit of fun but she clearly had other ideas. But that’s besides the point, I should of told you who she was so you were prepared at least or stuck with you so she would of left you alone. I would say I can’t believe she made all that up but I can actually’ he sighed, and you could his eyes rolling in his head through his voice.

‘Look Mase, it’s none of my business what you got up to before me-‘

‘I want you to know though’ he interrupted ‘not because I’m being weird or anything, but I want you to know she meant nothing to me. Why do you think I fought so hard to be with you? Cause she didn’t make me feel a fraction of what you do and I knew you were meant to be mine from the second I saw you’ he laughed and you couldn’t help but smile along with him. ‘I’m yours yeah? Nothing changes that’

‘I just wished you would of told me who she was’

‘I know baby, that’s my bad. I’m so so sorry, I knew as soon as I saw you looking upset outside I’d messed up. Breaks my heart seeing you cry’

‘I just feel a bit silly’ you whispered and you felt Mason pull away from you a little bit before turning you around to look at him. He face was full of sympathy as he wiped under you eyes and kissed your forehead gently.

‘Please don’t think that. I don’t and neither does anyone else. She’s not worth getting upset about I swear. She’s obviously just jealous of you, that I’m giving your what she wanted but I haven’t wanted this with anyone until you came along. But I am sorry, I know if I was in your shoes I would of kicked off a lot more than you have’ he told you gently.

‘Did you talk to her about me?’

‘I told her I have a girlfriend but that’s about it. I don’t want her knowing our business. She spoke to Chilly and Reece more than me’

‘She said you’d told her all about me’

‘Well like I said, she talks bullshit. She saw you in a picture on chilly’s phone that’s the only reason she knew who you were’ he told you and you nodded before nestling into his chest. Breathing in his scent so you could calm down. ‘Do you still want to go home?’ He asked timidly, almost as if he was expecting you to say yes but you shook your head and felt him relax under you. ‘Okay good. How about I run us a bath and we just chill out for a bit yeah? I’ll light some candles and make it as bubbly as I can for you’ he told you and he held you even tighter as he felt you laugh into his chest, gently tilting your face up so you’d look at him. ‘I love you so much, you know that right? And I’d never do anything to hurt you, not intentionally anyway’

‘I know. I love you too’ you whispered reaching up to kiss him finally and he hummed appreciatively into your mouth.

‘I’m so sorry I ruined your night. I bet you won’t wanna go out with me again’ he laughed and you shook your head as you both sat up. ‘I promise next time I’ll make sure she’s nowhere near us. I’ll be honest I’m not sure why she was there in the first place actually’ he told you, rolling his eyes.

‘Let’s just forget about her. Come on you owe me a bath’ you chuckled and kissed his forehead before getting up.

‘I’ll meet you in there yeah?’ He questioned and you nodded before walking over to his mirror, trying to clean away the mascara stains that littered your cheeks as you took in your puffy eyes and red nose. You got lost in your own thoughts, jumping slightly as you felt Mason wrap his arms around you from behind. ‘You ready my love?’ He whispered in your ear as he kissed the side of your head gently. You smiled at him through the mirror and nodded, turning to kiss him gently and he kissed you back just as sweetly. Setting your skin alight as you got lost in each other, trying to let the other know things were okay. ‘Come on you’ he whispered, bumping his nose against yours gently ‘bath will go cold if you keep me out here any longer’ he joked before taking your hand and leading you into the bathroom. The whole Ruby saga out of you head for now as you dreamt of being warm and cozy in Masons arms.

[winchesterszvonecek]

“Things said between kisses” Prompt List

— "Aren't you afraid of getting seen with me?"

Otis x fem pls 🥰🙂🥰

Btw LOVE AND OBSESSED WITH YOUR BLOG

Lucky - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek ]

Prompt: “Aren’t you afraid of getting seen with me?”

Word Count: 1101

Warnings: female!reader, fluff

A/N: thank you so much anon! it makes me happy to hear people enjoy my blog :)

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

In house relationships were always risky, you knew that. But at the same time, they could be downright exciting. All the sneaking around. The stolen glances. The secret kisses in the turnout room when no one else was around.

Even the steamy moments in the shower were something that gave you intense butterflies over just how exhilarating they were as anybody could just walk in and overhear you.

It’s what made it fun. The risk of being caught in an otherwise compromising position.

Even though you knew no one would care if you were dating a coworker, given that Casey and Gabby were already out as a couple, you still liked sneaking around with Otis, who you had just started dating thanks to a drunken confession one night at Molly’s.

Only after months of mutual pining.

Another reason why you didn’t exactly need to sneak around as everybody already knew as it wasn’t overly subtle when you both snuck off within minutes of each other and came back all sweaty and flustered.

But you enjoyed it. And so did Otis. Or at least, you thought he did as he’d been the one to suggest you both keep your relationship a secret in the first place.

Little did you know however, he’d only suggested that as he was a little worried you’d be embarrassed to be seen with him let alone be seen kissing him.

You were way out of his league, he knew that. He was lifting above his weight and when you confessed you had feelings for him he almost thought he’d died and gone to heaven. But then he woke up beside you the next morning, finding that you were still completely head over heels for him even without the copious amounts of alcohol you’d both consumed.

Otis had never felt more lucky than he’d been that day which is exactly why he didn’t want to risk anything to make you second guess your decision to be with him and if that meant keeping the others in the dark about your relationship, then so be it.

“What are you doing?” Otis whispered, glancing around him as you pushed him gently up against the truck, having to place his hands on your waist yourself as he was too worried about someone catching you.

You’d never been this close to one another on the apparatus floor before and with the Squad table just behind the truck you had him pinned to? The risk of exposure was at an all time high and Otis couldn’t help but feel his stomach begin to tighten.

“Kissing my boyfriend, what does it look like?” You chuckled playfully, yet quietly, capturing his lips in yours and finding yourself a little confused when he didn’t kiss back right away.

Eventually he did though, after a good few seconds longer than normal. Normally they might have worried you, but you just chalked it up to him being nervous about getting caught, especially when his hands slinked further around your waist to pull you flush against his body.

“Right here?” Otis exhaled, his hot breath puffing out across your lips in a way that sent a shiver right down your spine. “Right on the middle of the apparatus floor? Where anyone could walk by and see us?”

“What?” You pulled your lip between your teeth, a sly grin rising on them the minute it popped free. “Are you scared of getting caught?”

“No.” Otis scoffed out, as nonchalantly as he could as he was scared of getting caught. Just not for the reason you thought.

You pulled him towards you again, your hand slinking round the back of his head to thread through his thick curls, feeling the softness of them around your fingers as you kissed him again.

You always loved his kisses. How gentle he was. How loving and passionate each one was, even if it was only a small peck there was still so much feeling and emotion packed in there and you felt more than lucky to end up on the receiving end of them.

Even the slight roughness of his moustache against your skin was something you craved. Something you longed to feel which is exactly why you’d cornered him out here, as you found yourself unable to wait for a time when you were alone.

“It’s just…” Otis began, hesitantly as he couldn’t help but feel pathetic for even asking you this. “Aren’t you afraid of getting seen with me?”

“What?” You pulled back further, your brow deeply furrowed over your confusion filled eyes. “Why would I be afraid to be seen with you?”

“Because I’m me.” Otis replied shyly, his head dropping out of embarrassment and you could see the slight flush of scarlet rise to his cheeks. “Because you’re out of my league and I’m lifting way above my weight class in thinking I can keep you.”

“Oh, baby.” You said softly, your heart almost breaking at his confession. You lifted your free hand, cupping his face gently and raising it to meet yours again. “You are far too hard on yourself, Brian… Because you…”

You ran your thumb lightly down his lips, taking a second to simply suck in a breath as you wouldn’t lie, you felt a little teary that he had such fears about your relationship.

“You are the sweetest, kindest, most caring guy I have ever had the pleasure of being with. Not to mention you’re incredibly cute… Incredibly handsome… With a killer moustache I might add.” You chuckled softly, feeling your heart warm when his face twitched beneath your touch as he smiled. “And I would be proud to show you off as mine.”

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” Otis whispered, swallowing thickly as he didn’t want to show how badly your words made him want to cry a little. “And I’m so lucky that you’re letting me be the one you would show off as yours… If that makes sense, it sounded better in my head.”

“It made perfect sense…” You smiled, before your eyebrow raised a little and you chuckled. “I think… But I get what you mean anyway… Now, what do you say you let me drag you inside…”

“Say more.” Otis pulled you tighter against him, his scheming eyes glistening with excitement.

“Normally I would be saying more.” You laughed, grazing your thumb down his lips once again before kissing him softly. “But this time I’m thinking more along the lines of letting me drag you inside so I can tell everyone in there that I’m yours… And that you’re mine.”

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[guplia]

Hello anon! Thanks for the ask!

Okay! It's time for the second round of my fic recommendations! Once again I'm not including any wips.

"Tiny Troubles" by RavenKnight3035 (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Something's wrong with Cole, but he refuses to talk to anyone about it. Then, to make matters worse, a mysterious criminal attacks and the results are...interesting to say the least. "Cole! You're TINY!" Prepare for a big helping of fluff with a side of angst. :D"

This fic is about Cole, who becomes a little kid after something that goes wrong on a mission. And he's been acting strange before that too, so the ninja try to figure out what's wrong with him.

This takes place after season 2 (of the original series not Dragons Rising) but has technically become canon-divergent because of something that gets revealed in season 13, but it's a good read! There were hurt/comfort scenes I liked!

"Family" by Doctor_Discord (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Takes place like a month after Lloyd was magically aged. When Lloyd is kidnapped and used as leverage by Scales and the Serpentine, Garmadon is willing to do anything to get him back. Even kill. I am horrific at summaries but this is good I promise. Also posted on Wattpad under same Username"

So this is a canon-divergent fic with a lot of Lloyd angst! Garmadon teams up with the ninja to get him back from Scales.

There was a sequel that's also available on AO3 but it's been discontinued for five years and as far as I know the author is not into Ninjago anymore, but they said that anyone can write a continuation so there's that! But this fic is fully complete.

"Five Times Lloyd Was a Pain" by DietCokeIsLife (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"And, the one time he wasn't. Takes place pre-Child's Play when Lloyd is still a kid. Very fluffy!"

So like I said in the previous post, I like how Lloyd and Kai's dynamic changes through the seasons, and how they hate each other at first. Well, here's Lloyd's relationships with everyone!

"Misunderstood" by Lilac_Lily234 (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Finally after this brat caused so much trouble Cole was pretty sure this kid was going to get scolded at by everyone and Sensei Wu, and sent back to whatever horrible mother let her kid run around to do such misdeeds as they had this kid cornered on the roof; Cole didn't expect what the kid would do next though, and it horrified him."

Again, a child Lloyd fic! This one goes in a different direction from what happens in episode four after Pythor betrays Lloyd.

It's a oneshot but omg I wish it had a second part (no pressure to the author if they end up reading this! Just expressing my feelings for this fic :D)

"Little Brother" by Nation_Ustria (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Finding out that the person you consider your little brother is also a (supposedly) terrible person that you've been taught to hate for years is a little bit hard to work through—especially when that person is in pain. Revealed Part 2 - Kai's POV"

So in my previous post I mentioned a tlnm fic titled "Revealed"-- this is basically the same story but from Kai's part of view! (That technically makes it a different story then, I guess.) I loved this one just as much as the first one!

There's still more but I'm too tired and busy to write about them rn-- but if anyone wants even more recommendations you can still ask me! It might take me a while to respond, though.

[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.

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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.

[blackboxtheater]

Perhaps a mumpearl as Olympic athletes for the inktober prompts :D!! I always imagine mumbo would be a cyclist of some kind and pearl might be some sort of swimmer/diver ?! ( that is like our number one Olympic sport after all),, feel free to do whatever with this tho :D

Sorry anon, I took like two thirds of your prompt and the other third.....went in a different direction. But maybe I'll write another drabble where Mumbo is an athlete because we need more Jock!Mumbo representation in this world.

Modern AU, Olympic Diver Pearl x Sports Photographer Mumbo, meet cute chaos, Paris 2024 games

The thing no one tells you about the Olympics, is how much free time you end up having.

Before your event it's all a frantic haze of nerves and training and excitement and practice and adrenaline and press and even more nerves. But before you know it, you're standing on a podium, hair still dripping wet from the diving well, overwhelmed with more emotions than you thought possible as you watch your flag rise towards the rafters even if there's another national anthem echoing off the walls of the Olympic Aquatic center as it goes.

But a silver medal is still fantastic. Pearl is more than satisfied with her dive in the finals and it takes another two days for the fact that she's an Olympic champion in the 10 meter platform dive to sink in. 

The problem is that even after all that, there are still 8 more days until the closing ceremonies.

8 days is a long time, and you know what they say about idle hands.

"That's a great shot of you, Pearl, did you see this?" Skizz flips his phone screen around across the table in the Olympic Village dining hall, flashing an Instagram post in front of Pearl.

She barley has time to register the photo before the other half of the Australian men's synchronized diving team plops his breakfast down next to Skizz.

"What are you two looking at?" Impulse asks, and then the picture is gone as Skizz pulls it back to the other side of the table to show Impulse.

"Oh yeah, that’s a great photo. You should save that one," he nods in agreement, looking at Skizz's phone even as he starts to peel the wrapper off his muffin without looking down at his hands.

"I didn’t even really get to see- you know just send me the link." Pearl tosses out because just then Tango emerges from the crowd of athletes to join them for breakfast. Then Gem texts her about going to watch a women's beach volleyball match under the Eiffel Tower later that day and Scott stop by their table to trade for another Australia pin and Pearl completely forgets about the conversation and the photo in the general chaos of life in the Olympic village.

She doesn't even remember the conversation until the next day as waits for Tango's turn in the qualifying rounds of the men's 3 meter springboard. Should she be scrolling through Instagram while sitting in the stands for the Olympics? Probably not. But there are so many divers at this stage, and Tom Daly is sitting 10 rows ahead of her knitting an entire sweater, so she doesn’t feel that bad. 

So she opens the link that Skizz sent her and starts to flick though the pictures in the post. It’s a pretty generic wrap up of the Australian Olympic team's happenings; a cool cycling action shot, an athlete hugging his girlfriend in the stands, a misty eyed gold medalist on the podium. The usual. 

But there is it.

Buried in the middle of the carousal.

A shot of Pearl, her fingers just touching the water as she finishes her silver medal winning dive.

The boys were right.

It is a really good photo.

Pearl can probably count on one hand the number of good photos that exist of her diving. Hell, she can probably count on one hand the number of good photos that exist of anyone diving.

Diving is a sport of marvelous precision and grace that does not translate well in photography. It turns out that flipping and twisting your body at high speeds as you plummet towards the earth results in a lot of photos with weird faces and strange contortions. Not to mention whatever is usually happening with her hair.

But there is none of that awkwardness in this photo.

Instead it’s just the single clean line of Pearl's body pulled taught just before she slices into the water. Even in the photo she can feel the tension in her muscles as she arches her back, the momentum of her body as it races towards the water, the anticipation of an impact as her fingertips make the tiniest hints of a splash as they break the surface of the water.

It's gives her the incredible feeling of motion captured in stillness.

She's so engrossed in the picture she almost misses Tango's distinct shock of red and bleach blonde hair on the diving board until the announcer calls his name.

He has a great dive, not that she would expect anything less from the Olympic veteran. But what she notices most as she watches Tango effortlessly slip below the water is the wall of lenses beyond him on the other side of the pool.

She wonders if the photographer who took her picture is over there. She wonders, out of the sea of cameras clicking along the pool deck, which one it was.

Under any other circumstance, maybe that would have been it. A stray thought and some idle curiosity. Pearl would have saved the photo to post in her Olympics wrap up photo dump, and moved on.

Except for the next 3 days, she has nothing to do but sit in the stands of the Olympic Aquatics center, watching her friends dive for a few seconds at a time before going back to just staring at the wall of camera lenses right in front of her.

She cannot stop thinking about that photo.

So it starts off simple enough. First she checks the post for a photo credit and learns exactly how little a generic link to Getty Images will tell you about the actual photographer.

Then she does some some Google searches. Then some some. Then she falls down a lot of internet rabbit holes, and complains a lot about said searches and rabbit holes to all of her friends.

If her friends weren't also drowning in free time after finishing their events, maybe that would have been it. A series of forgotten mindless conversations over the chatter of Olympic crowds under the hot Parisian sun.

Except Gem's boredom manifests in her dragging everyone she's ever met to every event she can get tickets for, which is how Pearl meets False at an equestrian event neither of them really understand. And as they watch the horses conduct nearly identical jumps one after another, Pearl recounts the long, circuitous, frustrating saga of trying to track down this elusive photographer.

"Stress might be able to help you find out," False offers, glancing over at Pearl as she fans herself with a folded up event program.

"Who?"

"Stress. She's…" and Pearl follow where False is pointing with the edge of her program to an announcer tucked up inside one of the press booths. Even from here Pearl can see the woman in the vivid magenta suit jacket gesticulating wildly, her curly brown hair crushed in the center by a headset that appears to have large fake flowers stuck all over it.

"She's here with BBC. I've known her since the London Games I think? Maybe she knows how all that works," False shrugs.

If Pearl had literally anything better to do that afternoon, maybe that would have been it. A missed connection of friends of friends that she forgot about.

Except Pearl has no plans for the rest of the day other than drinking her body weight in champagne, so she convinces False to wait until all the horses are done competing, and then she drags False over to the press section to make the introduction.

It turns out that Stress Monster, equestrian legend and BBC announcer darling, does not, in fact, know how any of that works.

But she does know Iskall, who is either a Swedish language translator, a global media executive, a camera operator, or just a parent watching his stepson compete on the trampoline. Maybe all of the above. Between the Swedish accent, the Bristish accent, and the champagne Pearl had already had, its hard to keep track.

"This picture?" He asks, looking up from Pearl's phone where she pulled up the original Instagram post.

"Yes. I tried looking if there was a-"

"I got it." Iskall says, fingers already flying over her phone doing god only knows what. "I'll do it. I will find the person who took it. Iskall-man is on the case!"

"You're so dramatic," Stress rolls her eyes in a huff, nudging his shoulder.

"Do you not think I can do it? That I can find him? Or her? Because I can. I can find anything. I can do anything. Name one thing I can't do," He snaps his eyes up from Pearl's phone to glare at Stress, even thought she can tell there is no anger behind his eyes.

"What do you even know about diving?" Stress snarks back, barley suppressing a smile.

"Plenty! You don't know that I don't know about diving! And I don't even need to know about that to…"

Iskall doesn’t even look back at Pearl as he hands her the phone back, too busy bickering with Stress to say any more about Pearl's mystery photographer.

At that point, Pearl really thinks maybe this is it. This is a dead end as a friend of a friend of a friend with a real job and things to do other than obsess over who took a single stray photograph won’t remember Pearl's convoluted side quest of these games. Even if the question still nags at her every time she sees the swarms of media that suddenly seem to be everywhere at the games.

Except a day later she gets a call from Iskall as she is walking into the stands for Canoe Slalom. Which is not only an event, but apparently an event Australia is actually pretty good at.

"Hello? Iskall is-"

But before she can get a word in edgewise, he's already talking, voice moving a thousand miles an hour.

"Halo. Go down the stairs on your left right now."

She turns, staring at the stairs on her left, and at this point suddenly remembers that she has no memory of ever giving Iskall her number.

"How do you know where-"

"Your location. I shared it. You're there. At the danger canoe race. Go down the stairs."

"What the fuck? Why did you share my location with yourself, we just-"

"For this reason. So I could know if you were near him. You need to go down the stairs on your left right now because he is there. The guy who took the photo. Go to the photographers. Ask for Mumbo."

"Mumbo?"

"Yes. Mumbo. Go. He's there."

And just as abruptly, the call ends, leaving Pearl reeling.

"What just happened?" Tango asks as he and Gem just stare at her, the only 3 people standing still in the crowd shuffling towards their seats before the start of the event.

Pearl looks at her phone, and then back at the staircase on her left.

"I think the guy who took that picture is here."

"The diving photo you're obsessed with?" Gem asks, raising an eyebrow at her, but Pearl is still looking down at the stairs.

"Yeah. That was False's friend's that we met."

"The Swedish guy? How did he know we were-" Gem starts, but before Pearl can overthink the insanity of not just the phone call, but of this entire insane quest, she turns.

"I'm going to find him."

And she pivots to her left, striding down the stairs two at a time.

"Well of course we're coming with you!" Gem calls after Pearl, the sound of her and Tango's steps echoing after her.

Iskall is right, the press boxes are for the photographers are just down the stairs, and maybe that’s the only reason she gets to the edge of the barricade and shouts out "Mumbo!" into the dozen or so bodies pressed together facing the river.

She watches the shoulder of one guy stiffen before he lowers his lens, straightens up, and turns to look at her.

"Did you take the picture of me?" She calls over the click of cameras and the rush of water from the river below.

The expression on his face shifts to confusion as he looks back at her.

"Maybe?" he says, gesturing with the camera still in his hand.

"This one."

She shoves her phone towards him, the screen full of the image that she has stared at for so long over the past few days. It still takes her breath away every time, how someone could so perfectly capture how it feels to execute a perfect dive. And now the only person who managed to do that might be right here in front of her.

He steps away from the crowd of all the other photographers, coming closer to get a better look at her screen.

He looks at the picture, looks at her, looks at the picture again, and then looks at her.

"That’s you." He says, as if it some sort of revelation.

"Yes. Did you take the picture?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"How?"

"Yes how. This is a fantastic photo. This is amazing. How did you do this?"

"I mean, well, it's quite simple really. The thing with sports photography, so you just have to know when there will be moments that have a good composition. And opportunity, of course, so sometimes…"

As he talks it registers that not only is he blushing as he nervously rambles on, but that he's actually pretty good looking. The photographer who took the photo that she's been obsessed with for a week is not some abstract artist or featureless face behind a long lens among a sea of other lenses. Suddenly it is the attractive guy in front of her who still hasn't looked up from her phone.

"My photos don't look that good though," Tango says, suddenly appearing next to her along the barricade.

"Oh! I know-I recognize you too, you're, you're one of the other-" the camera man stumbles out, finally looking up to dart his gaze between Pearl and Tango with a flash of recognition. "Well okay, so I take a lot of photos so there probably- I mean not all of them get published so there are probably some that are- I might also be a little biased because you-"

"Biased?" Tango says, tipping his head with a glint in his eye, and Pearl swears the camera man's blush deepens.

"Mumbo! You gonna chat all day or what?" a voice shouts from the crowd of photographs.

"I have to go so," Mumbo says, starting to turn back.

"No," Pearl says, reaching for his arm, pulling him back towards the barricade. He's blinking down at where her hand is wrapped around his forearm, but he's not pulling away

"I spent an entire week looking for you. You're not just disappearing on me. What's your instagram?"

"It's just my name. Mumbo. I mean its @ MumboJumboPhotography cause I'm, you know," he says with a nervous laugh as he gestures with the camera one more time. She can feel the muscles in his arm shift under her fingers as he lifts the camera.

"Race is about to start man!" come from the line of photographers.

"I really need to- but it was nice meeting you! Thank you for the- yes. It was really great to meet you!" he stammers out, and this time Pearl lets him go as he turns back towards the Canoe Slalom race.

When Pearl, Gem, and Tango finally make their way back to their seats, she immediately follows @ MumboJumboPhotography on Instagram. It's just so she can tag him in any post she makes with that photo. After all this searching, its the least she can do.

But when she DM's him later that night after a few drinks at the club Impulse and Skizz drag her to…well she still has a few days of free time left to kill in Paris. And he is pretty hot.

[neewtmas]

24 days of Appreciation

DAY 2

Welcome to the second day of appreciation this month, where we shine a spotlight each day on those we appreciate in this fandom!

If you want to submit someone or something (for more info read here), you can do so here or just message me! If you wanna stay anonymous, either tell me or submit on anon.

Appreciation from me:

Today, I wanna appreciate @waitingforthesunrise, who might just be the absolut sweetest person in this entire fandom (case in point: the ask you sent me asking to submit me🥹). Your positivity is unmatched, and your presence is light and warmth, the sunrise personified basically. You were so very nice to me when I joined this fandom and made me feel welcome even though I really struggle to build friendships, online just as much as irl. I always read your poetry, even though poetry is not really my thing, but I admire you so much for being able to write it so beautifully. The poem you wrote for me some months ago? That still hangs on my picture wall. Also, remember the one time you made fanart for my locklyle fic??? Literal best thing ever. And now I always think of you when I see a pretty sunrise/sunset. ILY🧡🧡

Appreciation from others (submissions):

from @novelizt: Hi, I'm Liz! Since this season is all about sharing, I'd like to share my appreciation for a few people that made this fandom feel like family to me. I'm not really sure if there's a limit to how many people I can mention, but the list is long so I'll stick to my ride or dies First of all, @tangledinlove who made me fall in love with Anthony Lockwood. Your kindness basically cemented my place in this crazy family. You're the loveliest, and I always round back to reading your fics when I need a pick-me-up. Your words are forever tattooed into my brain. On top of that, you are one of my favorite persons I've met on this app, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. Next, @kiyasoup and @avdioblisss who I basically share braincells with. Any notif from y'all means my day will be good. I don't know what else to say other than I love you and I hope all your dream come true 💙 Also, @mitskiswift99 who always makes me blush and sob and shriek. If I had the power to teleport and hug you, I would! My Swiftie soulmate, I love you dearly 💙 Last, but definitely not least, the feeders of my delusions, @lewkwoodnco @bella-rose29 @ukulelevillainwrites and @atlabeth !! I used to read your fics and think "damn, they're so cool" and now we're moots jsnhs Some days, I still feel like I'm dreaming. Your fics are my fuel for life. Please keep doing what you're doing. 70 years from now, I'll still be reblogging your works 💙 Yeesh, I really don't know how to keep things short. I just have a lot of love for this fandom, and I hope everyone enjoys their holidays. Lots of love &lt;3

Show your appreciation and submit someone or something here :)

[jmdbjk]

July 14th is the day Jikookers delusions comes to an end. Btw not just jkkrs but all gay shippers. You saw that Explicit version and Red CD ? If it doesn't scream sex Idk what it is. When I told you the other day that it's gonna be an Explicit song you all laughed at me saying JK you all know won't do it. That's true, but there's another JK you all doesn't know. He's gonna show that version here. Ready to cry when he's having one of most sexiest scenes in kpop Mvs ever WITH A WOMAN. You have 2 options: block and laugh at me for saying truth or Be ready with 101 explanations on July 14th, to convince yourself and your followers that JK is gay with a long term bf aka your fav (a member respectively for each shipper), will need a lot of excuses and explanations btw. Best of luck.

HAHAHAHAHHAHAAH!

I just found this in my inbox. I know its old and I know it made the rounds already but damn, I laughed so hard.

Yes, dude... July 14 was something else all right. What a fun day that was.

To me it definitely was a turning point in Bangtan history as well as kpop history. Jungkook of BTS singing about fucking every single day of the week. All day, every hour, every minute, night after night he'll be dicking you right... Just come right out and say it, JK.

Yes, the song was about sex! SCORE ONE FOR YOU, ANON!

Our Jungkookie let loose with the big jingle jangles in his pocket, wagging those jewels around every chance he got! Boy definitely has some balls to just drop that one on us.

However, you did get some big points in your ask totally wrong...

That MV did not show the most sexiest scenes in Kpop (in my humble opinion)... TXT's MV for Sugar Rush Ride was more explicit with them caressing their own bodies, and there was nary a female to be seen in those MVs. I almost fell for them with that MV.

And I do cry on the daily that BTS has not yet covered themselves in glitter and had foreplay with themselves in an MV (or each other)... maybe after MS? Question is, will YOU be ready for that?

Still, one of the sexiest scenes in kpop to me is Jimin and Jungkook's Black Swan pas de deux. Jaw droppingly beautiful.

Or did you mean JK holding hands with Sohee at the end was sexy? Yes, so smexy. He holds hands often with Jimin and I do find it a little bit sexy so I could be persuaded on that point but only to a point.

No one has to convince ourselves that JK (might) be gay. He does it himself. No extra explanations needed...

And no one has to come up with excuses about Jimin and Jungkook being a "thing" cuz lawd... I will say no more...

I won't block you, or maybe I did without knowing it because you also sent in some other equally vapid takes on something else. But I did laugh at you heartily and continue to do so. If you aren't blocked, please hit me up with more of your ridiculousness... except you won't be able to do it anonymously anymore because jeez, that functionality is about as useless as Tumblr Live.

Yes, dude... we hit the jackpot that day.

[dracanianwyvern]

Fuck it. Long post incoming, which hopefully will be my final shit on this whole drama. Below the cut, read if you want.

While yes, you made the tpc tags kerf, that does not mean you can try and gatekeep somebody out of another tag they made. If you don't want to see somebody in a tag you made, just block them. You do not have to gatekeep a tag of a community they are in, it just comes off as rude.

Also, this next bit is directed at both you and cintagonisupset, if you did not want a debate over something you posted make it clear on the post otherwise others will debate with you about it. Also, you both intruded on a conversation between two blogs. Yes it was on one of your posts, but you were not involved in the conversation. You could of handled this situation very differently, but you didn't.

You two instigated the whole drama just by wording a request wrong and then going out of your way to harass those with a different opinion to you, while yes you most likely had your reasonings behind it... it most likely isn't a good enough reason to have done what you did.

Next section? Cintagonisupset, this is mainly about you now.

From what I've heard, you've been an absolute dick to a multitude of people and from the confidence of others speaking up from this current drama, they're speaking up. Not to mention, you haven't given your side of these new issues. So, I cannot even be in your side for all this drama from the hole you have dug yourself into here. Karma is collecting your debts, and OH BOY will it be messy. You did this to yourself, nobody can help you now.

Dulcetmoony, don't think your getting off the hook either.

You had said you were willing to talk it out with those you affected, only to apologise and then block goldy before they could respond. You weren't involved from the start, yet you jumped in anyway to defend your friends. I get that, but you could have been WAY MORE civil about it. But you weren't, and here we are instead.

I'm willing to tear into myself here too., I know I'm not above what I've contributed.

I got involved, I sent an anon hate ask which I still regret even though the one I sent it too has forgiven me for it. I got involved by sending the information to prettybeegkittykat via some asks, therefore "stirring the pot" [captain-kretsnik's words, not mine] more then it already had been. I caused myself to loose a mutual over this, however in my eyes? I shouldn't be blaming myself for a good portion of this, yet I am. Plus, I had been planning on creating art for captain-kretsnik at some point. Never got round to it.

Finally, a message to all involved.

This could have been handled alot better then it was, but now? Now we've got to deal with the pit we all helped dig, and karma will not let it go by cleanly for some. This is one deep pit, and it appears it might go deeper. I've already tried to fill in my contribution to this hole, both with the two past posts relating to it and now this one. I hope you all can do the same.

[thisismeracing]

I'm sending this in bc I have been gathering random thoughts but don't worry about answering right the way!

okay first

-mick is kind of a golden retriever but in my opinion he is more of a blue eyed labrador

maybe bc he's a little shy and g retrievers are all out a have a very energetic vibe even when with strangers they're over energetic, but I feel like mick is more of a shy person who might be social but doesn't initiate any interaction + mick with short hair looks exactly like a labrador don't lie to yourself guys

-mick invites estie everywhere bc he's a very intuitive person (not that you need it to see it) but he feels like estie is always kinda left out even when he is invited to things - he is a empath and you can't change mind

-I know how bad it is to "diagnose" people out of nowhere BUT as a neurodivergent my self I feel such a neurodivergent vibe from him?!? am I the only one?

-out of all the drivers he's the one who seems to try to get out of his bubble the most (if we count Seb and Lewis out) he engages and tries to learn + support a lot of things that are socially important, out of the younger drivers he is the one who shows most interested in it too. I worry so much that once Lewis retires (still crying about Seb), we will basically have no drivers who strives for diversity and equality as strongly as they do

-I will say that i'm a gemini and the person I had the best romantic relationship was a Aries, Idk why people hate them?? They are literally one of the best zodiac signs, there is nothing about them I don't like, I don't know what that says about me

now I will also admit that the worst romantic relationship I've had was with a Cancer, he was the most emotionally manipulative person I ever met, please avoid them at all costs romantically (just a warning- I mean a tip)

btw love you lots and love how you answer everything that is sent in

- 🎀 anon

-oMG I- I CAN TOTALLY SEE IT AND I HAVE TO AGREE!! HAHAHAH I can't unsee it! Now, every time I pass a lab I'm gonna think about Mick lol

-I had the same feeling tbh. I think he is the kind of person who likes to make everyone feel loved and welcomed, so sometimes even without noticing he gravitates towards the less famous in the crowd. 🥹

-I think this may be like on the estie bestie point: he just radiates such good energy that we can't help but identify with him, maybe that leads us to "getting X vibe" like you just did 💗 (I'm not elaborating much on this point bc I feel like this is a very personal and delicate subject so yup).

-I've been refraining to think about Lewis' retirement because I have the same feeling you do. It's not that the others don't care (some really don't tbh), but there's a difference in how he acts and how some of the grid acts. Lewis tends to use his voice more, just like Seb did/still do, and this is what we need: people who understand that their biggest power is their voice, not only their money when the conversation is creating diverse and prejudice-free spaces.

-I honestly don't understand much about astrology, though I do believe in it. But if Mick has any red flags related to his star sign you can bet I'm acting colorblind about it 😘👍🏾 I've never really stopped to notice how people talk about Aries, I'm making a point out of it now. Maybe Gemini people like to do exactly what others told them not to hahaha thank you for the tip!! I'm gonna keep an eye open for them!! 👀✍️🏾

aweeee, love you too, honey!! thanks for the ask, I'm patiently waiting for the next round *mwah* 💖💖💖

[callibones]

uhhh hh ..... hello! this is the same anon who sent in that ask about object camps. the camps you suggested sound really interesting! im a little too scared to join them for now haha but they sound really cool. they will rotate in my mind for a while i think HGFDSFGHJGFDSDFGH other than that .. 1 . i came across the wiki camp two and it looked so creative and interesting to me! i dont program in css that often anymore but the site makes me wanna go over and put in a bunch of pages. problem is.. i don't know how to Apply? or Do Anything? rn the site is locked for voting but just in general i tried reading the rules but still couldn't understand how it worked. if you knew anything about it that'd be nice. it also seems to have a discord server..? again im scared to check myself but if youre in it i wanna know whether it's a nice space to be in.

2 . uhhghgfdghj i peered through the rest of the blog and found the shelled one blaseball fic you posted ? and i think im really Normal about it. So after reading that i now trust your fanfic opinions. are there any other blaseball fics you'd strongly recommend? and uh general.. uh, evil mind controlly fics would be really nice too (the book of bill is also sort of ruining me along with this so i am truly looking for ANYTHING and like omg hbdxszexrdcfdsxrctvdxszaf) and thats all i wanted to ask you! sorry this is getting REALLY LONG i wish you well and i am So Sorry for bothering you!

HELLO AGAIN! not botherin me at all. :-] i was hopin youd find that answer.... i made sure to answer it at the same time u sent the question so you'd have a MAXIMUM CHANCE of findin it, and u Did! so Yay! welcome back. im going to tag my answers to your Post's with 🩸🟪 so we Never Get Separated Again. but i want you to know.... i don't bite! i literally can't on account of my face is a monitor. so if you wanna chat, feel free to dm me! you seem like a really fun person and we clearly have a lotta interest's in common so Consider That: An Option.

ANYHOO.

1) the wiki camp 2 is ABSOLUTELY a welcoming community. in fact, check this out: here's an index of plainly written explanations of various community in-jokes, to ensure nobody's left confused! while i'm not super active on the discord due to hyperfixating on single spaces at a time like some sort of cryptid, i have a lot of wonderful friends in the community and i'd wholeheartedly call it nice.

you don't have to apply to write, either! while i don't think there's an ETA yet on when the wiki's re-opening, whenever it does you'll be able to make an account for free and start creating to your heart's content! sometimes people who do that even get roped into the camp due to Token Shenanigans....

2) look. i get it. how much do i get it? the post you're talking about was written by my bill cipher fictive. and guess what book made me pick THAT thing up? we're in the same boat. i'm (RELATIVELY) normal 'round these parts, but if you do end up dropping me a line, maybe you'll happen upon some of my stuff? just sayin'. but as for what i can do for ya at the desk here...

thing is, i actually haven't read that much blaseball fanfic. i know! i WANT to. i have a list, which i'll reblog with your special tag right after this. but my brain doesn't let me read a lotta long stuff these days, which is SUCKS! i might poke around some tags and see what i can find, but that spectacular shelled one fic's the only one of its kind i know.

if you wanna read something Long and Serious and Really Really Good that's haunted me for years, put your eyes on Oil and Water, the shoe thieves disaster marriage classic about grief and autism and family and other such things.

then read everything else that catches your fancy, and send me your picks! and hey. if anyone reading this wants to help a cute anon out and knows some fics (or wrote some fics) that fit the Bill i mean the bill, PLEASE lemme know!! i Understand wanting more evil mind control. it's kind of my whole thing. PLUS i'm literally the shelled one's favorite

[hush-writes-preg]

Pregnant monster idea #2: A giantess, who didn't even know her fun with the dwarf had consequences, until she's crowning around the first of her two relatively small children. Sure, she felt off for the past 14 months, kind of bloated, a little tired, but she never would have guessed she was pregnant, her muscular belly barely changed shape! At least the birth is easy..

I wholeheartedly approve of this pairing. You may have just given me a new set of OCs to adore, Anon.

The adventuring party had been on the cusp of raiding a bandit camp when Nagi's stomach cramps finally grew annoying enough to distract her from her battle lust.  She paused, one hand resting against a nearby tree trunk while the other went to her faintly rounded stomach. 

"Nagi, what are you doing?"  Lusac hissed from the other side of the tree, his cowl pulled low and his bow poised to shoot the first of many arrows.  The dwarf could be as abrasive as he was impatient, but he was also a hells of an easy fuck despite his much smaller size, so Nagi usually let his attitude go. 

Usually.

"Trying not to shit myself," the giantess grunted, wincing.  "My guts are all tangled up in knots from your brother's half-arsed cooking.  Next time I oughta just eat him."

"If you think the indigestion's bad now, just imagine how much he'd tear you up inside," Lusac snorted, more than used to the animosity between the two.  "Think you can make it, or do we need to pull back?"

They'd been tracking this group of bandits for weeks now, and the last thing any of them wanted to do was prolong the experience with winter already edging the air with its chill.  "I'm fine," Nagi ground out.  "Let's go."

She wasn't exactly fine, considering that the last 14 months had been a constant on-again, off-again test of her patience with unexplained fatigue and digestive upsets, but the giantess wasn’t about to let a little stomach pain get in the way of their bounty.  She'd never hear the end of it from the rest of their party, and she couldn't be bothered to try and find another group to run with.  Giants weren't exactly on the top of anyone's recruitment list, and easy jobs with decent people could hard to come by.  So Nagi forced herself upright, shouldered her club, and resumed her forward course as quietly as her large mass would allow.

The crunch of steel against bone as she walloped the first sentry almost made up for the roiling spasms in her bowels.  The second and third bandits fell with similar ease, though she missed the last one when an intense burning in her nethers left her dropping into an involuntary squat.  The giantess cursed, slamming her thick brow forward to smash into her enemy's unprotected forehead before reaching under her kilt to try and figure out the source of this newest annoyance.

What she found nearly sent her toppling over in shock.

Blunt fingers discovered the lips of her cunt stretched tightly around a small, hard mass, and while she might not be as bright as the condescending elven sorcerer currently lobbing fireballs into the bandits' tents, Nagi wasn’t stupid.  The giantess threw back her head in a blood-curdling roar as a whole lot of little things suddenly clicked into place at once.

Pregnant.  I'm pregnant.  I'm pregnant and whelping in the middle of a godsdamned raid!

An opportunistic bandit swooped in from the side, obviously hoping to take advantage of Nagi's distraction with a well-placed sword blow to her belly, but the giantess was having none of it.  She spun on her knee, knocking the imbecile's head clean from his shoulders and sending it arcing over the raging combatants like a leather ball.  Arterial blood splattered over her dark, oiled skin as Nagi bore down and passed the babe with relative ease now that she knew what was happening, nearly moaning with relief at the sudden reduction in pressure. 

Tucking the tiny infant against her arm, the cord still trailing from her body, the giantess rose to her feet and slammed her club down against the next unfortunate target, snarling in satisfaction at the way his body crumpled beneath the force of her blow.  Oh, how she wanted to be angry with Lusac, for he's the only one she'd bothered fucking over the past two years, but she knew he wasn't solely to blame.  It was her damned body that had decided to nurture his stupid seed, and if she'd been paying more attention, she might have bloody known. 

"Nagi!  Incoming!" 

The giantess spun around, her club already raised and swinging towards the bandit that Lusac's brother, Gibrig, had sent stumbling her way with a burst of earth magic.  The female didn't even have a chance to scream before the enormous length of fire-hardened bone and stone connected with her body and sundered it completely in two.  Fluids and viscera splattered over the fighters in gory precipitation, but Nagi found it difficult to keep her mind on the battle. 

The cramps weren't letting up.  Why was she still having contractions?

With another irate bellow, the giantess released her frustrations on a nearby crowd of enemies, crushing skull after skull while her belly churned.  Nobody seemed to notice the newborn in her arms in the heat of battle, especially not when its mother continued to savage her opponents without much of a hint of her physical condition, but Nagi sure as hells knew.  The pressure from before was back, and as much as she didn't want to think about the implications of it, she knew she didn't have much of a choice. 

When the next contraction gripped her womb and compelled her down into another instinctual squat, the giantess dropped her club and reached between her legs again.  There!  Divines take me, another one.  With a groan and a muffled curse, Nagi pushed and delivered the second child, grateful that the half-dwarven runt had nothing on the size of full-blooded giantkin as it slid easily through her birth canal. 

The fight didn’t last much longer after Nagi nestled the second babe against the first and jumped back into the fray.  Half drunk on warm ale and sleep, the remaining bandits quickly fell before the experienced group, soon leaving the five of them standing alone in the midst of a bloody, torn-up glade.

Silence fell for a brief moment, just before one of the newborns let out a thready squawk.  Not to be outdone, its twin followed soon after, drawing several sets of startled eyes in Nagi's direction.

"What the--"

"Is… is that a baby?"

"Nagi, why do you have a baby?"

"I think I hear two babies."

"The fuck?!"

Sighing, Nagi turned to the dwarven ranger who'd gone deadly pale and thrust one of the mewling infants in his direction, tiny by her standards yet already almost half as long as its sire.  "Here," she muttered.  "Congratulations, you're a father.  Now, will one of you fetch me something to tie these cords with, or are you all just gonna stand there and stare?"

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February - inseparable since childhood

Thanks so much to the anon who sent the prompt “inseparable since childhood”! I may have hurt my own feelings a little with this one--not so much because of what’s in the actual ficlet, but just wondering what it might have changed. Anyway!

I still need a few more prompts to close out Ronance Femslash February, so please send them my way! Anon asks are totally fine, and you’re welcome to send more than one prompt. Don’t be shy! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

“You’d better still hang out with us, that’s all I’m saying.” Barb watches Nancy’s face go still in surprise, but she perseveres, because this needs to be said. “If you become friends with Tommy H. or Carol—”

“Oh, gross,” Nancy says, just as Robin bounds up to them and practically trounces Nancy from behind.

“Who’s gross?” Robin asks, leaning playfully on Nancy’s shoulder.

Nancy goes stiff under Robin’s weight, a cornered expression on her face. “No one.”

Nancy hasn’t told Robin about Steve yet, despite Barb’s repeated warnings that Robin will flip when she finds out Nancy’s been keeping it from her. Still, Barb can understand why Nancy isn’t exactly eager to tell her about making out with the king of Hawkins High himself. Unlike Barb and Nancy, who mostly manage to fly under the radar, socially speaking, Robin tends to attract more unfavorable attention from the popular kids. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t look as clean-cut as Nancy and Barb do, or because the Buckleys don’t have as much money as the Hollands or the Wheelers, or maybe it’s just because Robin refuses to accept the prevailing social order as immutable law. But whatever the reason, Robin’s caught a lot of flack from Steve Harrington’s flunkies over the years, so Barb gets why Nancy isn’t falling all over herself to announce what Robin will no doubt see as a grave betrayal.

“Ohhh-kay,” Robin drawls, taking her weight off Nancy’s shoulder at last. She may not have the best grasp of social niceties all the time, but she’s hardly oblivious. She must have noticed the look that passed between them when she showed up, can’t have missed the tension in Nancy’s shoulders. “Did I miss something?”

“Just nervous about chemistry,” Nancy says, all the bubbly good humor of a few minutes ago evaporated. She turns to put her books away, as if it’s the only way she can think of to avoid looking at Robin.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Robin exclaims. Her arm shoots out to snag a folded piece of paper sitting at the bottom of Nancy’s locker. “Does someone have a secret admirer?”

“Give that back,” Nancy snaps, snatching the paper back from Robin and shoving it into the pocket of her jacket. “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” She slams her locker shut and brushes past Robin to hurry off down the hall.

“Was it something I said?” Robin asks blithely, more to the thin air where Nancy was standing than to Barb. Despite the attempt at a joke, Barb can see the hurt on Robin’s face, the way she cranes her neck to watch Nancy round the corner and disappear.

Barb sighs. This is the other reason she’s been insisting to Nancy that keeping things from Robin is a bad idea. The three of them have been practically inseparable since childhood, and they all know each other better than they know probably anybody else in the world, but there are still things they don’t talk about—like the way Robin looked sick to her stomach when Kyle P. asked Nancy to dance at Homecoming last year, or how self-conscious Robin’s gotten at sleepovers since the last time Nancy tried to give her a makeover. Barb doesn’t know how to bring it up, and Robin certainly isn’t about to say anything, but somebody needs to say something, or things are only going to get worse. “Come on,” she says, nudging Robin’s shoulder, “we’d better go or we’ll be late to class.”