#but as someone who really couldn’t care less about ships

[hi-there-buddies]

I swear to God the only thing I’ve been thinking about lately is a tmnt voltron crossover au. I need Shiro to actually have a relationship with everyone instead of just Keith. I need Pidge and Hunk to actually have spats with Keith and Lance like siblings. I need Lance to be a leader. I need them to all know how to fight legitimately. I need-

#There’s no fanart of this #just excuse my while I go die #I think it’s because it disappoints like #all the shippers #cause it makes the main ships in voltron incesty lmao #but as someone who really couldn’t care less about ships #I lOVE IT #I WANT LANCE AND KEITH TO ACT LIKE BROTHERS #I WANT THEIR RIVALRY TO NOT BE ONE SIDED #maybe the Kraang could be the Alteans in this universe? #been spitballing #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2003 #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #fr I be making crossovers in my head with this and the actual voltron universe #I have a multiverse problem lmao

[pinkroseblooms]

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex. 

“You smell so good.” 

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?” 

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with. 

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle. 

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile. 

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze. 

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone? 

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different. 

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.” 

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.” 

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties. 

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall. 

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought. 

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act? 

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile. 

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop. 

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.” 

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.  

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first. 

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you.  “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

#jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #obsessed yandere #fem reader #reader insert #x reader #clingy yandere #tw yandere #soft yandere #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #pet pl@y #sugar baby!toji #sugar mommy #breeding k1nk

[prince-liest]

I’m a sex-repulsed ace, and reading the latest chapter of 666 (as well as your analysis here on Tumblr) made me realize that I have been subconsciously thinking about MY OWN sexuality from an allo perspective? And that it has kinda been messing me up?? Like, ever since I learned that sexual attraction was actually a Thing and that it’s Important To People, I had been carrying around a fear of being deficient in some way and not being able to love to the same extent as allos. (1)

Even though I know logically that’s complete garbage and totally untrue, I felt left out of the loop because people seemed to care strongly about this thing I couldn’t even imagine. Whenever it looked like a relationship might happen I panicked for a reason that I couldn’t understand. But now I’m starting to realize that it’s because I was subconsciously terrified of an ‘ulterior motive’ behind the other person’s reasons for wanting to be with me. (2) That part of the reason they even cared was because of something I don’t experience. So thank you, because this realization just clicked into place while reading your work. The thing is, this way of thinking was just internalized in such a way that I didn’t even realize it was there until literally this week. And I think you’re right; one of the main reasons behind that is because I’ve always consumed media written from an allo perspective. (3) If ace/aros are shown at all, they’re depicted as “lacking” and their character development usually revolves around being “fixed” by the story. When I was ~10 years old my mom sometimes let me watch the Big Bang Theory with her (looking back, maybe not the best decision). Anyways, there was one episode deep into the series where Sheldon (who for the past nineish seasons was probably the closest thing to mainstream ace rep) has sex with his girlfriend for the first time. (4) Afterwards, he says something along the lines of “that was better than I thought it would be”, and it’s presented as a Very Good Thing and a big step in their relationship. I think a lifetime of stuff like that makes it very easy to internalize aphobia and feel like the lesser part of the relationship. Or to feel like the other partner is making a huge sacrifice to be with you. That got wayy too long, sorry. All that was just a lot of words to say that I appreciate you. Take care of yourself!(5)

The portrayal of asexuality that you see in media being almost exclusively as you described is very tedious to me because it presumes that something is inherently lacking in aro/aceness rather than that feeling of "lacking" being something that is induced by societal norms. Actually, one of the things that I find additionally alienating is that fandom spaces specifically have been getting better and better about ace characters - but got damn does fandom not jive with aromanticism. Like, a character doesn't want to fuck? That's becoming a liiiittle more fine, it's 2024, we stan consent. But not shipping someone romantically?? Not so easy, now.

I'm glad that my work has been something that resonated with you in this respect! Alastor cares a lot about his reputation as a demon but is pretty blatantly a person who could not possibly give less of a shit about being "wrong" for not being experiencing romantic or sexual attraction. The explanation Viv gave at one point for his own understanding of himself (that he thinks he's just "waiting for the right woman") actually stuck out to me a lot because it's a very "well, nothing is wrong with me for not feeling anything, it's the world that's failed to produce a suitable person" perspective.

But having that kind of confident perspective of your own rightness in the world is really not often portrayed in media, or even in fandom, which even ten years ago was still in the throes of standardizing "Oh, no! Me, gay? These feelings are so wrong!" style m/m content and is honestly not that far off from essentially that for aro/ace characters.

Anyway, all of that is to say that there's not yet much out there that doesn't frame allo/amatonormative values as the default that "even aro/ace people can (and should want to) achieve," and that it's really fun to write a fic that is unequivocally from the perspective of a character who is aroace and doesn't see it as even remotely a fault in himself. Does he have moments where he's a little confused and trying to process how things fit for him? Absolutely. But he just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who thinks he owes romance to Vox of all people, hahaha. I've written him trying to conform to allo/amatonormativity more with Mimzy, because I think the social standards of their time could push him into it, but Vox? Absolutely not, he does not respect Vox enough for it to even enter his mind.

And then, on the other hand, writing it from an aroace perspective centers the way that romantic and sexual interest can feel like a betrayal of a good thing. With a character like Alastor, it frames romantic and sexual attraction the same alien way that we usually see aromanticism and asexuality framed as.

In the end, this is just one of a plethora of different experiences that aro/ace people can have, but it's one that I really wanted to see represented more, so I'm very happy to write it. I'm glad that you're enjoying it!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #long post #t #aroace #ace #he cares about Vox at this point! #but that's. not really the same as respecting him. #anyway this next chapter is important to me because it's very #how do I put this #“this was okay at the moment but that doesn't mean he's okay with it overall and forever” #“and it does not mean that they've 'progressed' their relationship to the point where Alastor being aroace is a 'nonissue'” #“(feat. ofc the heavy implication that it was an issue in the first place)” #ANYWAY. SOMETIMES I HAVE A HARD TIME EXPRESSING THIS IN NON-FIC WORDS #SO HOPEFULLY THE FIC AS IT CONTINUES SPEAKS FOR ME. I AM GLAD THAT IT HAS SPOKEN TO YOU SO FAR <3 THANK YOU!! #sexuality #my writing #hazbin hotel #this is a hot button topic atm and it took me a minute to write a reply #that didn't seem like it invited discourse lmfao #actually I still feel weird posting my opinion this strongly oops OH WELL

[anxiousnerdwritings]

since we on the ropic of sibling reader can you imagine how pissed bruce + batfam (and alfred, to a degree) would be if like talia ever did get with sibling!reader, she'd be smug af bcuz if bruce's sibling lives in the manor, it gives her a chance to see her love and her ex in one trip. cut to damian standing in the back conflicted that his uncle/aunt has the chance to become another mom/dad but also looking at his mother like "why are you dating my uncle/aunt 😦🤨"

can you imagine tho bruce throwing an aggressive fit if his sibling chooses to date Hal of all people?? Clark, Diana? He's sees the appeal tbh; he won't be too happy, but he sees the vision. Oliver, Dina? another pair of 'sees the appeal'. But Hal???? no no no bruce is shutting that shit down and fast. Barry is really the only safe option and even then he can quite literally sweep his sibling off their feet and away from the safety of the manor.

i want to imagine that the kids feel very strongly against this but also play matchmaker yk?? like some do it to piss bruce off (mainly jason, damian) and a few others do it for the drama (steph + cass by association, dick). the rest are a mix of both.

Talia totally takes pleasure in rubbing it in Bruce’s face that she’s with his sibling now and she loves seeing Bruce affected by it. He’s not jealous that she’s with someone else, let alone his sibling, honestly he couldn’t care less about that. No, it’s the fact that his sibling is in a relationship in general. Bruce is very much the type who thinks that no one is worthy of being with his sibling and no matter what they will never meet his standards for being a romantic partner to his beloved sibling who more than deserves the world and everything else. Not to mention Bruce knows damn well that Talia plans to take the Reader with her eventually and he’s having none of that.

I could kind of see Damian actually wanting the Reader to be more of a mother/father to him, they already act like one to him so why not officially become his second mom/dad. It wasn’t really until Talia was very open with her romantic intentions towards the Reader that had Damian really leaning towards making it all happen. I could also see Damian being very bratty and extremely jealous thinking of the Reader becoming a parent and having a family of their own that didn’t include him. As far as he’s concerned his aunt/uncle is already like another mom/dad to him and to have their focus and affections being taken off of him really irritates and frustrates him to no end. But when Talia mentions offhandedly about taking the Reader home with her, all bets are off and he’s fighting to keep them with him and Bruce. Unless the Reader was actually willing to go with Talia and start a life with her and the League of Assassins then Damian may be willing to go with them, not only to keep an eye on the Reader but also to stay with them as well.

All the batkids have their own OTP ships for the Reader and they would definitely play matchmaker to make it come true. Mush to Bruce’s horror and disdain. His own kids are going against him when it comes to the Reader’s love life. While he believes they shouldn’t have one whatsoever, the kids have their own ideas of what the Reader’s love life should really be. Also, this is all totally happening behind the Reader’s back without their knowledge. And I have no boyfriend that all the Reader’s suitors have and will continue to make impromptu and uninvited visits to the manor to see and spend time with the Reader. Whether the romantic yanderes were in actuality invited by/planned with the respective Baylis shipping them with the Reader or they came of their own accord to be around the Reader is debatable. But it certainly gets on Bruce’s nerves. Hell, even Alfred has his own ship of who the Reader should end up with adding more towards the betrayal Bruce feels with everyone in the batfamily going against him like this.

Just imagining Bruce’s reaction to Hal pulling up to the manor to take the Reader out on a date is so hilarious. I can’t help but see him being the one to answer the door only to slam it in Hal’s face when he sees him. If the Reader is adamant about going out with Hal then Bruce would totally be sat on their bed the whole time they’re getting ready trying to persuade them to cancel or at least go for someone else other than Hal. Bruce just Turing into a bratty sibling is just too funny not to think about. He definitely glares daggers at Hal the whole time he’s there. The only compromise Bruce could come to is either having the Reader and Hal’s date at the manor so it can be monitored or the date turning into a double date with Bruce and either Selina or some random woman he takes out just so he can keep an eye on his precious sibling. (I can’t help but imagine not only Bruce but the rest of the batfamily dressed in hilarious disguises spying on the Reader and whoever they’re on a date with. Or even the respective yandere’s rival suitors doing the same thing too.)

If you think Bruce’s reaction to his sibling dating Hal is bad, imagine how he takes to learning the Reader is going out with Guy Gardner.

#anxious answers #yandere bruce wayne #yandere talia al ghul #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere batfamily concept #yandere dc concept #yandere concept

[lokisgoodgirl]

Captain's Orders: New Depths [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (12) Fantasies and secrets are exposed at the helm of 'Captain' Loki's yacht. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smut. "Friends" w/ benefits. Butt-stuff (like,really) Daddy kink. (W/C 3.8k)

The slow descent of your skirt's zipper was the only sound over the hum of the engine. Loki rested against the ship’s wheel, running his appreciative gaze down your legs and back again. They lingered on the run of your suspenders as the flimsy uniform pooled around your ankles. You stepped out, kicking the black fabric under the control panel. “You wish for answers?" he purred innocently, unfurling long fingers with a flourish to inspect his nails. "Tell me, Agent. Where shall we start?”

“Who was in your room this morning?” you snipped, with the air of someone who couldn’t care less. And who wasn't only dressed in a stained shirt, suspender belt, stockings and heels. Loki tsk’d slowly. “Come, now. Of all the curious instances these past few months...that inanity is the burning query on your mind?" he drawled, bored. "Agent, I’m disappointed.”

Your stomach dropped, a swallow rising in your throat before you sucked it back down. So that's how he wants to play. “What did you whisper to Thor during training, then?” you said, chiding yourself for the annoyance so clearly etched in your voice. Loki laughed softly, reaching out whip-quick and grabbing your hand. He pulled you to him, spinning you around to face the open sea through the glass. “Clever girl." he whispered. "You noticed.” The stiff white cotton of his uniform grazed your legs as he shifted his thighs tight to the back of your own. His hands ran possessively over the dips of your waist, grasping at the suspender belt with a feral grunt between gritted teeth. The digits ascended, cupping the sides of your jaw, gently coaxing to the side. There was a noise to your right, his starched captain’s hat hitting the floor and rolling in a semi-circle. Loki’s warm breath flooded your ear canal, making your eyelids flutter shut as you melted back into him, the hard wall of chest keeping you upright. “I invoked an ancient clause, one which ensured his...submission in our little feud.” he said coyly, pausing to lick a trail over your jugular, planting a kiss on the wet slick. “Calling in an IOU as you might say.” This was not the answer you had expected. You ground your ass back against his crotch, the tone of your voice feigning disinterest. “For a stupid sword fight? Seems like a waste.” you quipped, trying to quell the thunder of your heart beneath your ribcage. “Even you know better than that, Agent.” Loki smarmed, sucking your earlobe between his teeth and releasing it with a messy moan. “I never waste anything...or anyone. The Binding Oath of Most Assured Recompense is not to be taken lightly.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. Loki’s lips had enunciated every soft syllable of the arcane pronunciation. Ash-ure-red. “And what about the colours, and the first seed thing?” you countered, wrinkling your nose. “The Ordinance of the Colours and Covenant of the First Seed are indeed serious affairs on Asgard. In your realm, my brother and I differ on their respective relevance. But the Binding Oath of Most Ass-ure-red Recompense is unbreakable.”

Loki seemed to sense your confusion, leaning closer. His scent invaded your nostrils, the deep undertones of musk tangled in autumnal spice like his long legs within your bedsheets. The cartilage of his Adam’s apple rested on your shoulder as he educated you, sighing in the haughty tone that only he could accomplish as his fingers slipped beneath your suspenders. “Tis a binding warrant that declares we must repay the other a debt; no matter the cost, no matter the inconvenience to the other. Even my cretinous brother would not dare disregard it, lest he face the consequences. A marker of restitution. A reckoning.” A violent shiver trembled up your spine as Loki's lips grazed the pulse point of your neck.

“That serious huh? Is that why you jammed three synonyms in the name?” you goaded, feeling Loki’s fingers begin to roam a descent down the curves of your throat. “You know my brother, Agent.” Loki growled, embers of past jealousy sparking the air between you. He rocked his hips against your ass, nudging you forward against the control panel. You bit your lip, feeling his mighty cock harden against you in real time. “Sometimes it is necessary to drive the point home with less finesse than one may be accustomed to.” You stumbled against the buttons, automatically steadying with your palms clasped to Loki’s thighs behind. You tilted your face, meeting his penetrating stare. The blues of his irises were alight with the glow of the setting sun through the panoramic window, veins of green and gold weaving in rippling waves. “What debt did you call in?” you said cautiously, feeling your chest heave as he slid his hands over your shoulders. “The origin of the encumbrance in question is not your concern.” Loki growled in your ear, a deep primordial power in the roll of his shoulders which inched you forwards before he pulled you flush to his stomach. “To him, I declared that you were to be mine. And mine alone.” You frowned, gasping as Loki bit into the curve of your neck. He sucked ravenously, his fingers toying down the front of your panties. Your back arched against him, pinned between that tank of a uniformed body and the ship’s helm. “Loki…” you squirmed, lost in a confusion of bliss. “Yes, Agent?” he asked with a smirk. You could hear it in his voice, that thick sanctimony that made you want to scream into the wind. And yet, as his fingertips drew through the sticky arousal your body offered so freely; you realised how deep the water you were in really was. “What does that mean...declared I was-?- But I’m not yours...-” you stammered, feeling your resolve waver. Loki let out an infuriating hush into your ear, rubbing a hard cheekbone along your jaw as he circled your clit. “Enough questions.” he rumbled, “I have neither the time or inclination to answer them.” You scoffed, silently willing him to make good on his statement. A hand rested on the small of your back, pushing you down. It ran over the curve of your ass, tugging at the panties before they evaporated from your body. Only the suspender belt remained, clinging around your hips holding up teasing lines and straps. Loki let out a dirty sigh, low and ragged. “I am more concerned about ensuring your filthy fantasies breath life, Agent. Wouldn’t you say that is a better use of my time than this inane prattle?” Your head lolled back against his shoulder, a thrill fluttering in your stomach. “No.” you snapped, pulling his hands from the front of your underwear. You spun, fisting the collar of his tunic with a yank. “Tell me who was in your room this morning.” you said, spitting every syllable. Loki’s brows twitched, slanting upwards in impressed surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“I...-” he started confidently, before trailing off with a scowl. He looks so innocent, you thought; before remembering the guttural moan of pleasure you’d heard behind the door. Loki’s features hardened again, closing the tiny gap and sandwiching you tightly between his wide hips and the control panel. He began to undo the buttons of his tunic with aching precision; each muted pop of metal making your pussy gape. “Who is your other lover, Agent?” he muttered slowly, pursing his lips. They flickered, his amusement at the game's turn palpable. “Tell me that, and I shall answer your question.” You frowned, cursing the proud set of his chiselled features glowing in the sunset rays. The tunic rested open, the widening gap of uniformed cotton making you want to drag your fingernails down the sliver of naked chest. “Really?” you mumbled, seeing Loki give a regal nod. “On my honour.” he purred, dragging his rigid manhood against your body through the ridiculously tight trousers. He’s made them tighter, you realised, sliding your hands over his ass, whimpering softly as you squeezed the solid muscle. Fucking tighter. The material was screaming, bursting against the seams; hard thin lines flattening beneath your fingertips. You suddenly wondered if the gusset was reinforced. “Honour? I’m not sure if you have any of that to spare.” you muttered seductively, hands falling back over the control panel behind for purchase, trying to avoid the switches.

“Agent." Loki warned, running a long finger down your cheek, skimming gently over your bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, accepting the futility. Taking a deep breath, you felt the words form behind your teeth. They stung. “No one.” you spat. “Are you happy?” Loki chuckled darkly, carding the hand cupping your jaw through your hair to the base of your skull. “How satisfying it is to hear you say that, Agent. The truth...at last.” You stared to the side, feeling your face heat. “What, so you can lord it over me? Taunt me?” “Perhaps.” he purred innocently, sliding his hands over your ass. “One must add to one’s exponentially growing multitude of ways to irritate you somehow.” You gasped as he spun you around to face the window again, the deflation of knowing your secret was out making you feel weak in his hold. “As for my part, and for what you heard through my door - I have a daily routine.” he hummed in your ear. “I summon a duplicate of myself who provides me with a morning massage.” You released a snort of laughter, feeling Loki bristle behind you. “You can’t be serious.” you choked, turning your face to look directly up at his. His furrowed brow and look of offended indignation told you he was deadly serious. You stared, waiting for the punchline. You’d never heard anything more ridiculous in your life. “Why should I believe you?” Loki sighed wistfully. “Being part of this realm in a benevolent capacity brings its trials. It’s own...tension. I tried to outsource to one of Stark’s minions, but none of them could rub hard enough.” You felt a smile tug at the side of your mouth, despite your best efforts. After a pause, Loki’s did the same. He thrust gently against your hips. “Or deep enough.” he continued knowingly, tilting his head. “I can understand how your mind would automatically be drawn to the more carnal connotations of what you heard, Agent.” he murmured, slotting his jawline into the crook of your neck. “I am very good.”

“But you said to...come back to the bed?” you stuttered disbelievingly. Loki chuckled. “He took it upon himself to leave his station and attempt to answer the door. Even my illusions are wilful creatures.” The deepness of his voice made your knees buckle as Loki continued. “Just like their...daddy.” There’s that word again, you thought with a jolt. Had you ever told him you had an aching, overpowering, embarrassingly strong urge to call him that over and over as he fucked you senseless on every surface of his rooms? You didn’t think you had. So why does he keep saying it- “-but you said you were sleeping with other people…” you gasped, as he circled his hips. The pull was magnetic, feeling his hardness through the cotton press against your naked flesh. “Did I?” he cooed. “I don’t believe I did, actually.”

Loki sucked your earlobe between his teeth, nipping before release. His fingers reached down front between your legs, drawing back a sticky slick of arousal. “You assumed." he chided. "Your prejudice towards me is showing again, Agent. Amongst other things…” “You’re filth.” you sneered with theatrical coldness, watching a smirk stretch across Loki’s lips. “You love it, Agent.” he growled menacingly, returning his hand to the small of your back before pushing you down; spread on the buttons. “Now that we’ve dispersed with the pleasantries...” he rumbled, rubbing his palms down the sides of your horizontal waist. They slid over your ass, a sequential thump of his knees on the floor accompanying a groan of anticipation as he spread your cheeks. Your hips gyrated, urging him to sail you over the edge of decency. “Loki…” you gasped, as his warm tongue found the forbidden entrance nestled between your curved cheeks. He buried his face, muffled groans of pleasure filling the cabin as you rocked against him. Your fingers curled to fists, the excruciating pleasure of his enthusiastic attentions eliciting rabid pants from deep in your throat. You clasped your fingers around an important looking lever, not caring what the hell it was for. Flickering your eyes down, you saw the thick meat of thigh muscle stretched against tight white cotton. It was spread to the side of your ankle; belonging to the god splayed on his knees as he serviced you. Pleasuring you. In that ridiculous captain’s uniform, you silently screamed. “F-fuuuuck...Loki.” His flattened tongue moved in time with the digits he had covertly slipped inside you. They curled, massaging the sizzling pressure building deep between your thighs. You felt yourself clench against the waves of novel bliss, the tip of his nose pressing your cheeks apart at their height. Loki's tongue folded and caressed against your delicate entrance, every spasm of bliss making you sink further into new depths of ruin. “Lo-Loki...f-fuck...yes.” you slurred, knuckles turning white as you gripped the panel edge. A flood of climax overtook you suddenly, liberally coating Loki's gently thrusting fingers. You mind howled, a rage of lust and animalism ripping through your veins like wildfire. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Your knees began to tremble against the unrelentingly blissful rhythm, letting yourself fall further back on the open mouth of the god kneeling on the floor. The wet, filthy pleasure was endless as he smothered himself. Deeper. Suddenly his teeth sank into the curve of your ass, a deep growl sounding against slippery skin as a free hand snaked up your thigh. “Swear to me I am your only lover, Agent.” he rasped, withdrawing his fingers from your cum-soaked pussy with aching slowness. He stood, looming behind you as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish to hear the words from those devilish lips of yours.”

You heard the low hum of a zipper before Loki’s familiar wide tip ran teasingly through the crease of your ass, slick with his saliva. Tendrils of his hair grazed your back, falling loose from where it had been tied. You arched at the sensation, his hot breath and sultry words making your hairs stand on end. “Why do you care?” you gasped, clenching your cheeks around his thick cock. You rocked up on your tiptoes, tugging his foreskin upward before sinking down. “Why did you lie?” he countered, cupping the curve of your bottom with one huge hand. You whimpered as Loki drew his furiously hard shaft in gentle circles over your back entrance. Anticipation fizzled beneath your skin, every graze of his heavy sex setting your senses alight. He spoke slowly, velvet words melting like bath foam. “Swear to me that I am your only lover…” he whispered, “and I will grant you what you desire.” “You...are- are my only l-lover.” you panted breathlessly, tightening your grip on a well-placed lever. The walls of your pussy fluttered as his manhood nudged your asshole. “Swear it.” he snarled, gripping the nape of your neck with an ominous squeeze. "I s-swear...Loki, I swear." you panted, before his hand slipped away. You heard a muted glug, casting a glance behind you to see him empty a phial of oil into his palm.

He slathered his cock, before sliding an open palm through your cheeks. “You have no idea how I have longed for this, Agent.” he growled, matching your moan of arousal as he slipped a finger inside. Another joined the first, stretching gently in a scissoring motion. “As, I know, have you.” Your mouth hung open, eyes squeezed shut as his balled knuckles pressed against your delicate entrance. The utter filth, the possibility of being caught with Loki buried deep in your ass against the helm of the yacht. You felt a hot dribble of arousal begin a descent down your inner thigh. “You have done this before?” he purred knowingly, a low chuckle vibrating through his tight uniform as you meekly shook your head. You could see his dim reflection in the pane of glass; the smouldering smirk and flashing cheekbones as he ran his hand down the flat of your spine more beautiful than the spread of the ocean. He leant over further, the snug tunic hanging open whoreishly; his carved abdomen pressing flush against your back. “A virgin then.” he hummed. “Don’t worry darling…daddy will take care of you.” Your breathing slowed as he straightened, lining himself up. The wet head of his length nudged against your slick hole, nudging the first vestige of resistance. “Relax, darling.” he cooed, mirroring the gentle tone he had used while he healed you. Slowly, the tip breached. A gasp fluttered from your lips, as Loki stilled. “Good girl.” he grunted quietly. Large hands massaged your hips, before tilting forward an inch more. Loki’s guttural moan was like a dying breath. You couldn’t take your eyes from his reflection in the glass, concentration knitting his brow as he watched his cock sink into your ass. Shameless mewls fell from your lips as you squirmed in place, the desire to have him rut into you to the hilt overwhelming. "Patience..." he whispered breathlessly, holding your hips still in his iron grip. The feeling was indescribable, a hard pressure of completeness as he inched further inside. The two of you let out a synchronised groan as his pubic bone finally pressed flush against you. Loki stilled again.

“You’re doing so well, darling. I'm so proud.” he cooed condescendingly. At any other time, you might have rolled your eyes; but the words sent a roar of pride rolling in your belly, clamping around the thick mass conquering every millimetre of space your body could offer. “When you’re ready, darling...move for me." he murmured. "Feel what it is to have me sheathed inside this precious passageway. You are in control, Agent.” he said, cautiously. “So use me.” Slowly you began to circle your hips, lips parting in a silent cry of pleasure as his girth shifted and stretched the virgin space. “That’s it. Does that feel good my pretty thing?” Loki choked, trying to maintain an air of haughty indifference and failing miserably. “Uh-huh…” you grunted, deliriously fighting the urge to slam backwards. “Don’t fight it.” Loki murmured, guiding your hips gently as you found a comfortable rhythm. “Fuck me, Agent. F-fuck me with that perfect a-arse of yours and – oh, oh.g-gods.” Loki inhaled sharply, hips juddering upward as you began to slide back and forth with ease. The muscles of your entrance were fastened to the solid length of him; every drag against his foreskin making his fingertips dig deeper into their hold of your hips. There was no pain, only freedom. Power. The god stuttered nonsensically, knees almost giving way before he straightened. Looking down, you could see the golden embroidery of his naval cuffs, svelte fingers squirming against your skin. You glanced backwards at the sight of the god with his head thrown back; drowning in the forbidden pleasure you were giving him. His hair fell in loose strands around his chin, black streaking the fair, tight skin of his jawline as messy groans infusing the air. The muscle in his jaw was pulsing. Clenching. “Does daddy like that?” you probed shyly, as you slid along his perfect cock. You felt him spasm as the verboten word dripped from your tongue for the first time.

Loki's head snapped up, brow creased before his eyes rolled back with a guttural moan at another well-timed clench. “Yes...f-fuck yes, darling.” he growled, a whine strangling from his throat as you dragged his foreskin forwards. The tip slid out the tight entrance. You bit your bottom lip, the exquisite feeling of dominance tingling on your skin. He sighed, face painted with a devastatingly haughty smoulder. You nudged backwards, catching the head of his manhood within the slick of oil gathered at your entrance. The desperate god groaned, rubbing his palms over the curve. “Sink back on daddy’s cock, Agent…” he breathed slowly, sliding his hands down the front of your hips. They found your clit, leisurely drawing his fingers through soaking, slippery folds. “Uhhh...god, Loki..” you groaned, feeling every vein tug past the tight ring of muscle. A gravelled whimper built behind your teeth as Loki’s chest pressed to your back, gentle thrusts beginning to slap as he leant into your enthusiasm. The stiff fabric of his naval uniform scraped against your skin, every collision of crisp cotton sending you closer to the edge as his fingers pulsed your sex upwards. So raw. And powerful. And fucking filthy. You began to whimper with every breath.

“Mmmm...you know only I can..uhhh...f-fuck, make you f-feel this way, Agent. Only daddy makes you feel this...g-gods...this fucking w-way.” “Daddy…” you moaned shamelessly, lifting your head. Even the word finally dripping from your tongue was enough to send a blossom of climax soar in your loins. Loki’s forearm slid across your chest, holding you upright as he began to pulse. “Louder.” he growled in baritone, begging as his hips began to slap lightly against the back of your thighs. He was holding back. Just. His fingers massaged your swollen bud as his thrusts became messy; staggering in his attempts to quell the rampant flood of lust that was taking hold. “Fuck me, d-daddy...yes...f-fuck, Loki.” Your lover snarled in response, a flash of bared teeth visible out the corner of your eye. The sensation of him filling you. The knowledge that he was completely undone. That he was being tender, despite his unrelenting need for satisfaction. That he was being real. "Loki..." you lilted softly, feeling the hum of his response vibrate against your skin. Your hand slid up his cheekbone, tugging his hair in a tight fist. You tilted your head, catching his slanted lips with yours. His tongue hovered against yours, his rasping pants thick and fast together. “Cum in my ass, daddy.” you whined sluttishly into his mouth, feeling an involuntary judder of his wide hips in response. “Agent…-” he gasped, as your breaths became short. Loki's fingers pulsed against your clit, thighs clenching as orgasm rose in devastating ripples. “Loki...oh...m-my.god-” You felt his balls tighten against your skin. The slide of his cock slowing as he eased himself over the brink through ragged breaths. Every ridge of his length dragging to the last. Savouring you. He bottomed out a final time, stalling as his weight pressed against your back. The buttons of his tunic were cool against flushed skin, messy curls grazing down your spine as he rocked with his release in time with yours. The low roar of your name in his throat was sexual napalm, sending you spiralling in an incoherent splutter of ecstasy. With a final shallow heave, he pulled you flat against his chest; the angle of his manhood making you twitch in his arms. You knew it would be hot. But not this fucking hot, you thought; trying to compose yourself through the orgasmic daze. "I must unburden myself to you…” Loki whispered through ragged breaths, combing a damp strand of hair behind your ear before placing a kiss on your temple. You dreamily hummed a response, inhaling sharply as he guided himself out. You could feel his cum following, slathering between your cheeks. The god's hand grazed the curve gently, making it evaporate in a warm glow of magic. He knelt to the floor, picking up your skirt and handing it over gingerly. There was something wrong about the silence. Something heavy. You slipped the skirt on, pulling the zipper up in time with his own. “These last few months have been...interesting.” he began, once you had arranged yourself. You cocked an eyebrow. “That’s one word for it.” you said, a coy smile pressing at your cheeks as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. What do you want him to say right now? you thought, pushing a strand of hair coquettishly behind your ear. “-But I have a confession to make.” he continued, avoiding your gaze. Your smile fell as Loki inhaled deeply. Holding it.

“I can somewhat...see into your thoughts, Agent.” he said cautiously through the exhale, lifting his stare and gauging your reaction. “-Just a little. It's really rather interesting-” he added quickly with an innocent widening of his eyes.

You froze, stunned. “-You can read my mind?” you said quietly, suddenly feeling more naked than you ever had with him before. White noise hummed in your ears, blood thundering with horror. “You can fucking read my mind?" you shrieked. "How...how could you not tell me?! How is this possible?!” Loki’s white captain's uniform melted in strips of magic, fizzling and reforming to uncover his standard leather combat suit. He grasped your biceps, sensing the change as his eyes searched your face. You had the overwhelming feeling that his confession had not been received in the manner he anticipated. “It is not as you suppose. Listen to me-” You let out a shrill, mirthless gasp of laughter. “All this time? I can't...you are-” you spluttered, pressing your hands to your eyes. Mortified. There was silence. “You insufferable wanker. I fucking hate you.” you spat, splicing the intimacy between your bodies as anger bubbled like tar beneath your skin. You could feel your jaw locking, curling your fingernails sharply into the soft skin of your palm. “You think you’re so clever. You're nothing but a smug, self-righteous dickhead.” you hissed, seeing red. “How long?" you yelled. "Does Steve know about this, too?!” Loki threw his hands to the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. “Norns, woman. Do you ever quiet? You'll wake the gentleman in the cupboard.” Shit. You'd forgotten about the actual captain, resting amongst the cleaning supplies. With a grimace, you snarled, buttoning up your shirt unevenly. “Is it just me? Am I the chosen one to entertain you with your sick games?” Despite the rage, your voice wavered. Loki stepped forwards, his hands raised in surrender. “As far as I can surmise... it is associated to flashes of strong emotion; an image caught in time. Like your photo-graphs. Pain, desire, certain...phrases that-” “Phrases like ‘daddy’?” you spat, folding your arms. A smirk twitched at Loki’s lips. He really can’t help himself, you thought furiously; watching him smooth the front of his leather tunic like a politician stalling for time. Your eye twitched. “In answer to your query...yes, it is only you I’m afraid. I should have told you sooner but it was-” “-fun?” you finished bluntly. Loki shrugged, resigning himself to your petty anger with a roll of his eyes. “Captain Rogers is unaware." he huffed casually. "However, as I was saying before you became so predictably dramatic; the reason for this little phenomenon is rather interesting if you’ll permit me to-” “No.” you hissed, circling your forefinger back and forth through the space between you. “This, is over.” Loki rocked on his heels, casting his eyes to the window as he pondered what to say next. Something snarky. Something he thinks is fucking funny, you thought, tears of frustration stinging. With a growl, you nudged him aside; striding towards the door. The rise of the land line was visible, creeping closer as Loki stepped forward and pushed several buttons with theatrical flourish. “I think not, Agent.” he purred, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared over the ocean. “You like me far too much for that.” “I never want to speak to you again, Loki.” you said resolutely, head held high. “I hate you. Loathe you. I mean it. More than ever, you sanctimonious, devious, perverted, lying prick.” Loki flinched as the door slammed, hearing the click of your heels storming down the hallway. “No you don’t, Agent.” he whispered with a quiet smile, flexing his grip around the ship’s wheel. The leather of his tunic creaked against his hips as he widened his stance, glinting eyes fixed on the approaching shore. “No you don’t.”

Continued in Hot & Bothered Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

A/N: Thank you to the ever incredible @gigglingtigger for helping me brainstorm The Oath of Most Assured Recompense and highlighting how Loki would most definitely say it 😊♥️You're amazing.

Tags (contd in comments)

@gigglingtigger @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @joyful-enchantress @soldeloki @jaidenhawke @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @soldeloki @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @lunarnights95 @ladymischief11 @ladyofthestayingpower @use-your-telescope @multifandom-worlds @liminalpebble @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #lokismut #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x fem!reader #loki x female reader #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x you smut #loki imagine #loki x reader smut #hostile f*cks collection #avenger!loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson smut

[bimrsadler]

High honor Arthur or Dutch finding out its F!reader's birthday and she hid it from them bc she'd shy, but word gets out from one of the girls or something. hilarity ensues?

Dancing and Daisies

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader

Word count: 863

Warnings: high honor Arthur, use of alcohol, fluff, implied mutual pining (no obvious romance, just Arthur being sweet)

Notes: hilarity isn’t something I feel is my strong suit tbh but I tried to make a fun gang dynamic with some teasing and fluff - both Dutch and Arthur involved

You knew you shouldn’t have divulged your upcoming birthday to the girls, especially since they picked up on the tendency of your eyes to wander toward Arthur Morgan.

“You knooow, a little birdie told me it was someone’s birthday…” Mary-Beth giggled to the gang sat around the campfire.

You gave her a pleading stare while sipping your drink. As the newest member of the gang and someone who was shy even without a group of boisterous outlaws around — you didn’t want focus on you just yet.

But the drinks were flowing and that ship had sailed.

“And whose might that be my dear?” Dutch inquired with mischievousness in his voice.

Mary-Beth just snickered with glances in your direction. Feeling your body flush with nerves, Sean took notice. “If I had to guess it’d be the lovely lass avoidin’ eye contact over there.”

You rolled your eyes with a sheepish smile.

Dutch placed his foot on the log you were seated on, hip popped out with his hand resting on it. “Well now, that calls for celebration doesn’t it?”

“It — it’s nothin really, please,” you stammered awkwardly, unbearably aware of Dutch’s eyes on you.

“Nonsense my dear — Javier?! Play us somethin’ fun would you sir?”

The pleasant twang of Javier’s skilled guitar playing filled the air, quickly followed by Uncle joining in on banjo. The gang began clapping along, some getting up to dance.

“Oh no, that’s my cue. Can I slip away without them noticing?” Your mind raced as your eyes darted to find an opening to head to your tent. “They can just celebrate without me…”

“Down the hatch girl!” Karen suddenly appeared with a beer in your face, a smirking Sean attached to her hip. All eyes were on you now, the gang clapping slowly, jeering and chanting.

“Screw it,” you sighed with a nervous smile. While you hated the attention, the camaraderie made you feel welcome. And a little party couldn’t hurt, right?

The group cheered as you indulged them. Licking your lips you locked eyes with Arthur leaning against a tree in the back, arms crossed and shaking his head with a lopsided grin.

Dutch’s outstretched hand broke your line of sight, “how about a dance, Miss?”

You froze, unsure how to respond. You didn’t mind the idea of dancing with the charismatic man — but in front of everyone?

Before you could say anything, Tilly teased, “I dunno Dutch, somethin’ tells me she’d rather get a dance from Arthur.”

“Tilly!” You hissed, mortified.

“Is that so?” Dutch chuckled as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him, “I don’t see Arthur over here.”

You leaned into the dancing, highly embarrassed but admittedly charmed.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, “ahh I ain’t much of a dancer, you know that.”

“Still isn’t very polite to keep a lady waiting Arthur,” Dutch chided as he dipped you.

Arthur huffed and waved his hand dismissively. You weren’t sure if you were thankful or disappointed; both petrified of and yearning for his attention.

Hosea taunted, “c’mon Arthur, ya gonna let him show ya up like that?”

Arthur stood suddenly, polishing off the last of his whiskey with a grunt. “Alright alright, quit scarin’ her.” Sauntering over, he motioned for Dutch to allow him to cut in — Dutch obliging with a deep chuckle.

Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist and took your hand delicately, far gentler and less possessive than Dutch. “Don’t think she wants two old men botherin’ her all night…”

“Careful Arthur or I’ll grab your Fenton hat!” You heard Hosea call out while the two of you swayed.

You had to stifle a laugh as Arthur grimaced, showing the same pleading stare you had earlier. Though you weren’t clear on the whole story you had heard bits and pieces of Hosea’s animated retelling of the events of that day.

The gang went about their own festivities as you and Arthur finished your dance. It was slower than you expected and even though he was quiet, he flashed a few soft smiles at you asking, “this okay darlin’?”

As the song ended, Arthur’s warm hand lingered on the small of your back before he parted with a playful bow.

“Not much of a dancer huh?” You asked coyly.

Arthur shrugged, “easier when yer partner knows what they’re doin’.” Leaving with a tip of his hat, you watched him head toward the poker table.

Your meter for social interactions was exhausted but it had truthfully been a nice night; feeling a little more at home with the gang. Head swimming pleasantly, you collapsed on your cot.

Glancing over you noticed something on the nightstand that hadn’t been there before; a small bouquet of wildflowers tied together with twine.

Beside them was a ripped piece of paper with a scribble, “Happy Birthday - Arthur”

Picking them up, you recalled mentioning to the girls that you missed the fields near Strawberry and the flowers that grew there — not thinking anything of it that Arthur had been chopping wood near you.

Smelling them wistfully you drifted off and decided that it was a good birthday after all.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fluff

[daytaker]

Hungry For You

Beelzebub is learning that there are more dimensions to gluttony than a hunger for food.

(It's not as exciting as the title and description would lead you to believe. Only wholesome Beel here, I'm afraid.)

Ship: Beelzebub x Reader Word Count: 666 (smirk) Cross-Posted with AO3

I’m not very complicated. I’m just hungry most of the time.

My brothers are more complex. Lucifer and Satan for sure, but also Levi and Asmo and Belphie… Even Mammon’s got more to him than meets the eye. Not me though. I’m just hungry.

I’m always hungry, you know? Always. It used to scare me when I first became a demon, because it felt like I’d gorge myself until I died. Or like I’d starve no matter how much I ate. Or like I’d go crazy from how hungry I felt and accidentally hurt someone.

I got used to it after a while. I never actually ate anybody.

I try to be honest most of the time. It’s easier than hiding things. So it isn’t a big secret that I like you a lot.

You’re always nice to me, even though I’m kind of boring and not all that smart. You listened to me when I talked about Belphie and Lilith. You share your food with me. You smile at me and you give nice hugs. I’m not very complicated. So that’s enough for me to like you a lot.

I’m not the only one who likes you. Belphie does too. He didn’t used to smile as much as he does now that you’re here. And Mammon follows you around like a golden retriever. Even Lucifer seems a little less tense when you’re around.

I like that about you too. I’m not a really complicated person, but I love my brothers. I like how happy you make them.

I’m glad I’m strong and tall, because you’re so small and squishy. You seem like you’d break really easily. I’d like to protect you, I think. But I haven’t really gotten to do that. Instead, you protected me and Luke during the situation with the Grimoire. I still can’t believe you did that…

I was a little mad at you for that, actually. I never wanted somebody to get hurt because of me. I don’t think Lucifer would have killed me if you’d just grabbed Luke and gotten somewhere safe. And I wouldn’t have felt like you let me down or you didn’t care about me or anything if you did that. It wouldn’t be a betrayal for a human to run away in a situation like that. It’s natural to want to keep yourself safe. So why didn’t you? I wouldn’t have been upset with you, you know. If Diavolo hadn’t shown up when he did, then… I mean, if anything went wrong, really. I keep wondering… what if you died? 

I think I’d end up feeling hungry forever. 

Not hungry for food. Hungry for… I don’t know. It’s softer than when I’m hungry for food, and it’s not as desperate, so I feel like I have more control over myself. But it’s still a new sort of hunger, and it’s still pretty strong, and it makes me a little uneasy.

Does it sound too weird if I say I feel hungry for you?

I don’t mean anything strange by it. It’s not like I actually want to eat you. It’s more like… I feel like something inside me wants to hold onto something inside you, forever. I think if you were gone, I’d miss you too much, and there’d be something empty in me that ached. That’s what I mean by feeling hungry for you. And it makes me nervous. It’s the same sort of anxiety I used to feel when I was new to the Devildom, and I worried that I’d starve. I wonder, if you were gone, and I couldn’t stop feeling hungry for you, what would happen? Would I die? Or would I go crazy? It’s scary.

I try not to think about that too much. It’s okay as long as you’re around. That fills me up okay. Not as much as when you hold my hand, though. Or when you hug me.

Did you know you smell like dessert? It’s really nice.

#obey me #fanfic #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me x reader #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub x reader #daytaker fanfic #beel

[thetalltaleteller]

I thought I’d put together a somewhat coherent list of my headcanons for Lies of P as well as few others I’ve seen that go in line with what I’ve been thinking.

When P becomes human

His body doesn’t exactly change to one of flesh and blood. He still has a puppet body, for the most part. But that doesn’t make him any less human.

There are some physical changes, however, like how his hair changes and his shoulders get broader. I’d imagine he’d also develop some other changes internally that would enable him to do things he couldn’t do before. But again, still kinda more on the mechanical side than fleshy.

He would also feel things like pain and even hunger to an extent because of some of these changes. He’d also feel fatigue.

He’d feel pain because his ergo would like remember how certain things are supposed to hurt. Like getting smacked by a shovel would not be pleasant. And the hunger part is because he’s not entirely powered by ergo anymore and so he’ll eat to regain some energy. (Don’t ask me how, I haven’t figured that out yet. Just made sense at the time I thought of it)

Him breathing still isn’t a necessity, but it’s more like a “muscle memory”. Similarly to how his ergo can remember pain, it remembers other subtle things about being human. Things that one wouldn’t actively think about when doing, like breathing and even blinking.

How P feels being human/first time feelings

The first time he feels pain, he’d be shocked at first. He’d just think “What was that?? I did not like that.” And then he’d come to understand it pretty quickly and whenever he gets really hurt or something, he’d almost wish he still couldn’t feel pain. But that’s more of just him being a little dramatic lol

When he feels hunger for the first time, he’s completely unaware of what this feeling in his stomach is and it sort of has him a bit scared. That is, until he tells someone about it and they kinda laugh a little and explain it to him while giving him something to eat.

The first time eating something is so weird to him. Like he kinda has the muscle memory of it so it’s not like he’s being taught how to eat, but that doesn’t mean the overall sensation isn't weird and maybe a bit overwhelming at first. He gets used to it eventually and comes to enjoy trying new foods when he has the chance.

The first time he feels genuinely tired, he’s not too sure what’s happening. He’s felt sort of drained before, but this is a new level. Eventually he just passes out from exhaustion and he’s just on the floor until someone finds him. After that he’s more aware of what it is and is more careful about not passing out on the floor again. But he’ll still fall asleep in various places like in chairs or at a desk/table

Not to mention dreams. P would be confused as fuck about dreams. But he wouldn’t think much of them afterward. However, his first nightmare? Poor guy would be fucking shook.

(This one for the thirsty people including myself lmao) With P experiencing more human emotions, it would make sense he’d feel a romantic attraction to someone at some point. But I’d imagine he’d also experience sexual attraction. However, still having the body of a puppet, he’s missing a certain part to his anatomy to make some of these dirty desires possible. Unless he convinces someone to help him change that.

Note: I left things a little vague about who he talks to about these things, purely for your shipping convenience 💖

#lies of p pinocchio #lies of p headcanons #the teller rambles #my thoughts #pinocchio #lies of p

[thegoodwitchglinda]

magazine matchups

vil x reader

you and vil were supposed to just be colleagues, but as your work kept pushing you closer and closer together, you couldn’t help but fall for one another.

a/n: this is another repost of a previously deleted fic I posted. also can’t believe i ever deleted this, this is like the funniest thing I’ve ever written (imho)

—————————————

His absence was something you barely noticed, just as his presence. You weren’t oblivious to it, however. It started out as a coincidence, the two of you ended up modelling for a few projects together, which had the internet going wild. Soon enough, it turned into free advertising, and your managers were intentionally pulling the strings so that you’d be working together. If anything, the nonsensical rumours that came out of it were kind of annoying - other than that, you had no strong opinion about working with him, or his personality.

He wasn’t exactly a constant in your life either, that’s why you almost didn’t notice his unannounced break from the public eye. You remembered him after seeing a now slightly old article about the SDC, ah that’s right, he’d taken a break from almost all of his work to focus on the competition, which had ended a couple of months ago. Despite this, you can’t recall him coming back to the limelight since.

Might as well check his magicam page, you thought. He still posted there, would it be weird to follow him out of nowhere? Eh, who cares- you did it anyways, and then went to bed.

As always, it felt like the sun rose far too early to wake you from your slumber. Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet, or you hoped it hadn’t at least. You checked the time, and you were fine, you didn’t oversleep.

In the meantime you should probably check the texts you got from Neige, your certified best friend who doesn’t usually text you at six in the morning.

“Hey, Y/N! You’re trending on magicam, so is you and Vil’s ship-name, did you know?”

Um, what? That was… strange? Honestly, you really wanted to see what was going on, but you’d be late for school if you let social media get a grip on you right now.

Break time. It felt pretty exciting to hear the bell ring this time around, since you’d been itching to find out what had you on the trending page, it’s not like you did anything either spectacular or offensive recently.

Damn, Neige really wasn’t lying, then again, you couldn’t recall any time he ever has. Your expression died down comically quick, as you kept scrolling through the tagged posts. Your fans were literally insane sometimes, to the point were maybe following someone new on your public account was a bit of a mistake. Basically all of your conjoined fandom was trying to theorise over Vil being added to the list of people you follow, which was otherwise only Neige and your manager. Really, it was a slight disappointment, but it was also kind of funny, at least the internet didn’t decide it was time for a dose of unjust cancel culture just yet.

A few days later, after school had let up, you went to hang out with Neige in town. It was a tradition between you two, a way to keep in contact despite your busy schedules. The two of you often cycled round different attractions or areas in the city, sometimes just opting to walk around and talk. This time, you were headed to the local museum. It was interesting to read about all the history loaded behind what seemed like a simple piece of pottery, or learn about how certain things were used to supplement both the lack of technology and magic of the older world.

It was mostly things you’d seen here before though, but you’d never paid much mind to the modern art section, you realised after thinking about it. “Hey Neige, should we go look over there? Who knows, they might have your portrait framed or something.”

Your joke was received with a light laugh and, “Sure, let’s go take a look!”

This section of the museum felt a lot smaller, but there were even less people willing to marvel at the paintings that adorned the walls. Coincidentally, the one other person that was there happened to be someone both you and Neige recognised. You wondered if he visited the place a lot, people don’t tend to look so blank whilst visiting a museum by themselves.

Neige turned to you, excited to ask if it’d to be alright to approach him. That’s right, you’d somewhat forgotten that those two knew each-other. “Yeah sure, I don’t mind.” As soon as the sound of his name filled the room, his head turned, and his expression looked mildly annoyed. Did he look like that before? God, you’d have to hope the two of you weren’t upsetting him. Your friend however, didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary as he continued to make small talk.

Gradually, said small talk came to close, and Neige had invited him to spend more time with the two of you, though Vil politely declined. He was rather curt, but he didn’t seem like a bad person, if anything your opinion hadn’t changed since you first worked with him.

Before waving goodbye, you rushed to scribble your phone number down on a crumpled piece of paper to give to him. Momentarily, you pondered wether that was a good decision to make, as he almost stayed silent, but soon put on a smile and thanked you. It was an awkward first meet.

Vil turned away after the two of you had left, it was due time to head back to his dorm, despite his visit to the museum serving a different purpose than intended. For Vil, he had hoped to come about some inspiration in preparation for returning to his work but meeting Neige was a frustration in its own right, considering how a large part of his break was dedicated to self improvement after realising his envy was severely holding him back.

Regardless of his efforts, it was disappointing to see Neige thrive under the same conditions as him and yet thwart all the hardships that Vil faced. Whilst his perfection was his pride it robbed him of approachability.

You however, offered him your number despite how out-of-reach he often is to people through your slight uncomfortableness. He thought it was folly of you, but it was a rare boldness that wasn’t unbeffiting of you - having only experienced similar things from Rook, who sometimes took it to an extreme.

Maybe it came from you also being in the industry, but he found himself thinking fondly of it. When Vil arrived at pomefiore once again, he decided to follow you back on magicam, not unaware of you doing so a few days back, although he made no effort to add your contact to his phone. You were still asleep by morning, enjoying the extra time the weekend was granting you. When you did wake up, you checked your phone, a part of your usual morning routine. ‘Oh, he doesn’t hate me’ was what came to mind after seeing that Vil had followed you back.

Not having any plans today you thought to message him on the app, curious as to wether he’d reply. “Hey, how are you doing? Hope we didn’t bother you yesterday.”

After sending that short message you looked through your feed for a bit. Reasonably soon you got an awfully formal response back. Apparently he didn’t mind your presence the other day, which was nice to know. Now however, you were in a position of not knowing wether or not to continue the conversation or what to say. Reaching out to someone over something so minuscule without making an attempt at getting closer with them proved kind of useless, so the two of you briefly discussed your musings about school and work before cutting the conversation.

That was the last time either of you had talked to one another until the two of you inevitably crossed paths again, outside of the internet. This time, the two of you met at a more understandable place, a model’s holy grail, the skincare section.

Another thing to note was that this time, he was not unaccompanied, unlike you. His purple-haired friend was actually who drew your attention away from the ingredient list on the bottle you were looking at. Being a bit louder than intended, he was complaining about this excursion being a waste of time and effort. When you did turn around, you saw Vil glaring daggers into the poor boys soul. Maybe they weren’t friends as you’d initially thought?

Ignoring it would’ve been your best bet but as you heard Vil sigh and mutter something along the lines of ‘I thought we were past this’ you realised he was dragging himself and his possible-friend in your direction. The two of them started looking at the labels of product after product, after Vil had scanned the shelf for a short while. Vil looked quite nonchalant while doing so, but his friend seemed awfully confused when absentmindedly staring at the product. Considering you knew one of them, you thought it might be good to offer up some advice, and recommend a couple brands.

Vil was actually quite thankful for your help, due to him only using products that he’s created himself, he was only aware of what was currently popular rather than beneficial. And this wouldn’t have been the best way to teach Epel how to pick out certain products without any good examples. He thanked you, and invited you to hang out over coffee some time as a thank you.

It was perhaps a little overboard, but neither of you really minded, considering how it was starting to seem that you could become decent friends. And that was how you ended up here, finally settled in to a popular cafe, that at first proved to be a bit of a poor choice, specifically due to its popularity.

When the two of you met up, the people already around the place started to form a crowd around you. It was reasonable, after all people don’t see celebrities everyday, and whilst you were used to it, it could prove to be rather bothersome. Of course, both of you handled the situation well, but there was something so enchanting about how graceful he was with each and every person who approached him, and how he was able to express his appreciation all the while making sure his air of perfectionism never slipped.

When you eventually got a moment of quiet together, you made sure to learn a lot about each other. He wouldn’t say it out-right, but you could surmise that the purple-haired boy from before and a huntsman named Rook were his set of friends. It sounded like an interesting group, but cute nonetheless. You also figured out that a lot of his personal life revolves around his work, or maybe it would be better to say that they happened to coincide.Despite that, he still seemed less daunting now that you’d got to know him a little.

Naturally, you two hung out a lot more after that, and it was fun as you got more comfortable. You even got to do things like convincing him to pose for you to draw him because, “come one, it’ll be extra practice!” He didn’t look amused at all, but he still let you.

Sketching Vil was enjoyable, but he wouldn’t let you notice how he got increasingly anxious as time passed. Vil normally had no reason to feel anxious around anyone, he usually felt confident in himself, but the issue was that his confidence was surprisingly conditional.

It was strange though, the only person to ever make him feel insecure before was Neige, yet you didn’t make him feel threatened. He could only come to one conclusion as to why he was becoming increasingly sensitive to your opinion on him, and being as self aware as he is, the answer didn’t come as a shock to him. But acknowledging that he was in love was a scary revelation to make.

As you finished up your drawings and showed them to him whilst raving about how pretty he was, he calmed down. His appearance was the main factor in his confidence, and reminding himself that he would always have power in that regard soothed his anxiousness, but what really relieved him this time around was the fact that you weren’t judging him.

The next time you were on-set participating in a photo-shoot together, you’d known beforehand. You were both affiliated with the same company, and had managed to put two and two together when discussing your work schedule.

Things felt a lot more light-hearted than all of the other times you’d worked together. Seeing him there as you’d entered the room put a smile on your face.

As you’d taken your last shot together, and everything was getting cleared up, you went to take your arm of Vil’s shoulder, but as you were doing so, he grabbed your hand. You could feel him tense up, and the walls started to feel slightly closer than before. “What’s wrong?” You couldn’t help but be worried. You saw him take a second to compose himself, before he leaned closer to you and whispered a short confession in your ear, “I’ve happened to find myself loving you… Would you be mine?”

That was… unexpected.

But when you said yes, Vil found himself experiencing a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time, and enveloped you in a gentle, heartfelt hug. The two of you stayed there for quite some time, ignoring everyone else around you because they didn’t matter.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil #twst x reader #dtw

[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.

-0-

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.

-0-0-0-

2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Evans, are you listening to me?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody speaks. Nobody even moves. So Hadrian does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

"Why would you??"

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

"…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-doesn't like it.

-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then Evans moves forward and-

-sits down.

At the Gryffindor table.

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

4.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Greedy.)

Hadrian Evans does not disappoint him.

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

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

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

It's Blaise who reacts first.

He laughs.

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

There's a clatter. The door opens.

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

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

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

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

-a memory.

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

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

Patience, he reminds himself.

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

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

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

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

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

Evidently, he never has.

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

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

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

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

Except-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fortunately, Blaise has no such compunctions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 So then.

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

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

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

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

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

 The room is quiet for a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 And no one likes a fence-sitter.

 -0-0-0-

 5.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Cool, thanks, let's go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 -0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Except-

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

 It's a strange new world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Not that these two are friends of course.

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

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

 He would've preferred the heartfelt speech.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 His life.

-0-0-0-

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

#headcanon meme: answered #HP series #c'est la vie #hadrian evans #theo nott #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #headcanon #slytherin hadrian au

[ghostofskywalker]

I saw you wanted a crosshair request, so what about bickering that turns into a kiss?

i went a little overboard with this one, thank you SO much for the prompt! i hope you love it as much as i do <3

words: 728

@clonexreaderbingo square: bounty hunter

In the Heat of Battle

clone troopers masterlist

“Crosshair, don’t you dare take my kill!” Your voice echoed sharply through the private comm channel, sounding angrier than you ever had before. It was more likely a product of the unexpected attack and the palpable vein of unresolved tension between the two of you than any actual resentment or anger, but it didn’t matter. You had made your desires known, and you expected him to listen. 

Tucked away from the heat of the battle, Crosshair watched through his scope as you and your vibroblade absolutely desiccated any droid stupid enough to step in your path, and he knew that you had one goal: severing the wiring of the tactical droid hiding behind the throng of blundering B-1s. 

It had been a learning curve for his squad, getting used to working with a bounty hunter like you, an outsider in all senses of the word. You were often proud to a fault, having worked by yourself for your entire life, and you were technically his commanding officer, since you were the lead on this particular assignment. He also had to grapple with feelings he had never experienced before, an attraction to you that he couldn’t quite explain.

But you should have known at this point that he never really followed the rules anyway, and by the time you stepped up to the center of the droid command, every single machine there had perfectly singed holes in their head. The battle was over, and the Bad Batch had emerged victorious. 

He didn’t see you again until much later, when the ship was hurtling through hyperspace. He was walking down the hallway towards where the rest of his brothers were gathered in the cockpit when he felt someone grip his arm. Suddenly his back was against the wall, and you had a venomous look on your face. 

“I told you that was my kill, didn’t I?” 

Anyone else on the ship probably would have apologized, or maybe none of his brothers would have been stupid enough to get themselves into this situation in the first place, but of course he just had to stoke the flames. “I did what was best for the mission, and I don’t accommodate for people’s egos.” 

“How about your ego then?” you asked. He knew that you were never going to back down, and that predictability was almost a comfort. “Even though all you do is hide away from the action.” 

Okay, that comment pushed a few buttons. “I’m the most valuable member of this team and you know it.” 

“Maybe to someone else, but I don’t take kindly to cowards, no matter their skillset.” 

“You really think I’m a coward?” Now he was getting a little heated, as your piercing stare continued unwaveringly. 

“Are you not one? Because if that was the case, I would need you to prove it.” 

His next move was lightning fast, pulling you close to him and maneuvering so that it was you who now had their back against the wall, not him. His calloused hands found your face and his lips sealed to yours in a searing kiss. 

Every ounce of emotion he felt towards you, both positive and negative, came out at this very moment, and you responded with just as much as passion. Your hands at his waist had the effect of a drug to him, and he deepened the kiss, not caring that the rest of the team was less than ten paces away and could walk into the hallway at any second. 

When he had to finally pull apart for air, your lips looked thoroughly kissed and the expression on your face was one of pure lust. “Do you still think me a coward?” he asked tauntingly, his lips only inches away from returning to the place they so desperately wanted to be, against yours, savoring every passionate noise you made. 

“Maybe,” you said, your breathless voice giving away your true feelings. “But I think I need a little more convincing.”

“That can certainly be arranged," he whispered as he took your hand and pulled you in the direction of his bunk. 

Hunter had probably heard the entire exchange, but at this moment Crosshair didn’t care one bit. This was something he had been thinking about from the first moment you stepped on board, and he was not going to let it pass by. 

- the end -

#CFB2023 #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x gender neutral reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch x reader #clone trooper x reader

[thejediscrolls]

You Drew Stars

Tech x Jedi reader

Unrequited love is a real bantha

Angst - Slowburn - Fluff

Pt 2 of You Drew Stars

“Hm… Well hello brown eyes.”

That one line had the blood in my body boiling as I repeated it over and over in my head.

“Brown eyes…” I scoffed as I helped Echo load some supplies, “That is the most ridiculous nickname I have ever heard.”

And yet so effective…

“Don’t look too much into it General.” Echo dismissed my pacing as I walked up and down the ramp.

“How can I not?” I sighed at the obvious attraction the two have between each other, “He adjusted his glasses!”

“Okay?” Echo looked at his General with confusion trying to figure her out.

“He adjusts his glasses all the time.” Hunter mused as he walked up the ramp, “Wrap it up you two, it’s time to move.”

“Not like that.” I muttered as I followed behind the two.

The mission was more or less successful given Phee’s constant flirting. Tech didn’t doing anything to dismiss her, but it’s not like he didn’t have the right too. He’s a free man after all.

Things seemed to get worse after a treasure mission of hers. One that she almost had us all killed mind you, but she was funny and helped when she was needed…

“Do you have an interest in Phee?” I remember asking him one night.

“No, of course not.” He said it so easily and I wondered then if he meant it.

After that, Phee began to show up constantly always taking up his attention when she was in the room. More often then not, I would have to leave the bar before I brought it crumbling down.

Even Omega seemed to take a liking towards her and our usual game of Sabaac and story telling turned to me sitting at a back table as she focused all of her attention on Phee’s pirating adventure.

Makes sense since my stories were usually grim with so much loss…

I still tried to get my affections towards Tech across. I would compliment him more.

“You look nice today.”

“I think you are really kind Tech, you care a lot about others… I just hope you know I care a lot about you too.”

“I like spending time with you the most.”

Everything passed by him like my words were made of air.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad that at least you think so. If you could so kindly tell my brothers that, it would be highly appreciated.”

“I… Interesting.”

Simple thank you’s and easy replies, moving past it as if it never happened.

I know my eratic nerves seemed surprising to the others as I began to take more note in my appearance or in the way I carried myself.

Everything felt so forced now that I was no longer a Jedi. I couldn’t look to my master Secura for wisdom about what it was like to love a clone or Yoda’s wise words could no longer comfort me.

I bet if master Obi wan were here right now he would tell me that a Jedi should not hold such a strong connection to someone for it would lead to weakness and to the dark side… But look where love got master Skywalker, he was married to a senator… Or were… May they rest in peace.

I missed Ahsoka the most for our friendship was stronger than any order. Sometimes Hunter reminds me of her, kind, strong, and always pushing me to go after my dreams. I hope she made it out of order 66 just like I had.

Hope… it seems that’s all I can do nowadays.

To put it simply I had trouble expressing my feelings so freely and to have to hide who I really am to the world forever… Everything felt unbalanced.

It just seemed like my time was running thin with Tech yet those moments when it was just the two of us… Together on the marauder, going over mindless upgrades that the ship would need. It make seem dumb to the others, but for me… Everything felt right like it was meant to be.

Despite the fears slowly making a home in my heart, I focused on the good of the force, letting it guide me through my emotions.

I decided the best course of action was to do small things that would make him happy. It was what I remember Commander Bly would do for Master Secura and vice versa. A warm feeling filled my heart remembering how much they loved and protected one another. If only Order 66 didn’t happen then maybe they would be married somewhere by now.

I would make sure the ship was in order, he would always have home cooked meals, Omega was taken care of and that his brothers wouldn’t pester him so much.

I liked making recipes that were popular from my home world the most. The ones I remember my mother making and of course made enough for the rest of our little family or else they would be heartbroken. But I would always make sure Tech would eat instead of fixing something like right now for instance.

I placed one of my hands on my hips as I held a bowl of folio herb stew in my other hand, “Tech I swear if you don’t eat, I’m going to erase all the data you have on your holopad.”

“Mock threats isn’t going to stop me from finishing this task woman.” He commented and proceeded to tighten another bolt on the control panel.

“Fine.” I huffed as I sat beside him, where he was lying under the control panel.

I took a spoon full of stew, blowing on it before pressing it to his lips, “Open.” I said as his eyes widened in surprise.

He cautiously took a bite as if it were made of poison. He stared at me as he chewed, a low hum emoting from him at the taste.

I smiled back at him as I took spoon back to get more, “You work. I’ll feed you. Or else I’ll use the force and make you stop working.” I teased.

“You wouldn’t.” He squinted at me.

I raised a brow at him, “You wanna bet racer boy?”

“Yes General.” He replied with a playful roll of his eyes.

Our night ended up in laughs, the empty bowl paced off to the side and the two of us resting against a wall. Sleep was the furthest thing from our minds as we told stories about the good old days.

The next morning, a package that I have been waiting four days for arrived, placed in my hands by Echo. I was quick to thank the sec trooper before rushing to my room to wrap the small gift.

“You sure he said this was the part he needed for the transmitter?” I asked Hunter one last time as we stood outside of Sid’s cantina.

I held the gift nervously in my hand. Hunters small smirk didn’t help my nerves as he nodded his head.

“I’m sure. He told me himself if that helps.” Hunter answered with a wave of his hand.

“It doesn’t.” I spoke, my voice taking a solemn tone before I glanced back up at him, “I’m sorry for asking again. Usually he tells me these things. Thank you… For letting me know.” I said gratefully.

“Of course, I’m rooting for you General.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, “You deserve to be happy to and so does he.” He said before heading off, “Let me know how it goes.”

I smiled a bit when I entered the cantina to find Tech sitting at the bar alone. Now’s the perfect chance.

“Hey.” I greeted as I placed the small present on the bar counter beside him, “I got you something.”

“You did?” Tech’s eyebrow raised in surprise, “You know, this sudden display of gifts is interesting. What for?”

“Because…” I chuckled nervously, “You deserve something as simple as a gift and… You deserve so much more…”

“Well… Thank you.” He nodded and his eyes went back to the gift, opening it like a kid during Winters Day.

“Tech, there’s actually some thing I’ve been wanting to tell you. For a while actually.” I rubbed my arm nervously, “It was hard before because of the council and specific codes a Jedi must follow but now…”

His eyes widened as he pulled the part out of the box, “This is… I don’t remember telling you about this.”

“You didn’t, ah Hunter did actually. That’s the part he said you were looking for.” I squeaked out as my cheeks tinted pink, “It took a bit to find, but I asked around and heard it was at a shop off world so I had it shipped in.” I explained as he inspected the part closely.

“That was… Kind of you.” His voice trailed off as if he was unsure of how to say what he had to next, “But I’m afraid I have already obtained this part.”

“You did?” My brows furrowed in confusion, “But how?”

“I got it for him.” Phee stated as she walked in.

I watched at she took to his side like a loth cat. Tech accepting her presence as easy as the sky accepts the sun.

I felt my heart drop at the sight knowing that once again I was too late, “Oh…”

“Yes.” Tech nodded, his body shifting towards the pirate.

I cursed myself at not getting it fast enough. For not telling him how I felt… If only he would have just listened. I was a Jedi and yet I was being such a coward.

I put a smile on my face to hide my jealousy, “I’ll just put in the supply bin. You know- Just in case we need it for the ship or something else. I- yeah.”

“Great.” Phee shrugged before turning her attention to Tech, “What are you up to today brown eyes?”

I quickly grabbed the part and rushed out of the cantina from sheer embarrassment.

How did she find out? Did Tech tell her instead of me? He always told me the ins and outs of his experiments. Why did he tell her…

My brows furrowed as I stopped walking.

Why did he tell her?

“What’s wrong?” Echo asked as soon as I stepped off the ramp and onto the marauder, “You look… Angrh and unsettled. Is everything alright?”

“I am a Jedi, an embodiment of light and good and peace and calm… I’m calm! I’m…” I had to hold my breath to keep my breathing in control, but it did nothing to help.

“You don’t look good General.” Echo insisted, “Maybe Tech should-”

Just hearing his name triggered such a rage in me that before Echo could finish a crate went flying out of the ship.

“Nothing is wrong!” I seethed as I stormed towards the back of the ship and shoving the part into one of the junk bins.

“I see it didn’t go well then.” Hunter stated as he stepped into the small space.

“I…” I gripped the shelving trying to gain control of my emotions, “I was going to tell him.”

It seems lately these days, I’ve been slipping. My heart curling into the dark and I had to climb endlessly to keep myself from falling.

“He told Phee about his project and he didn’t even tell me. He always tells me and… And I had to hear about it from you. But what hurts the most is she got him the part and it was like our thing became there thing.” I sniffed, “He barely acknowledges me when she walks in the room and now she’s just always around and...” I squeezed my eyes shut, “I don’t think I have a chance Hunter.”

“Hey…” He stepped forward and pulled me into a hug, one that he would give Omega when she was feeling down, “Don’t think like that. She’s just new and they’re becoming friends which frankly he needs more of.” He chuckled, “Listen to me and just ask him out to dinner. You need to tell him you love him before it consumes you.”

“That is not the Jedi way.” I murmured jokingly.

“You’re not a Jedi anymore.” He spoke my earlier words back at me.

I sighed, “You’re right.” I pushed him away with a smile, “I should go apologize to Echo.”

“You did give him a start.” Hunter laughed, “It’s been a while since you used the force. I think you sent him back to the clone war days.”

I ran my hand over my face, “Oh poor Echo… I feel so bad now.” I sighed, “Where’s Omega by the way? I promised to take her out shopping.”

“She’s with Wrecker, but she should be back soon.” He said.

I nodded as we walked to the ramp of the ship, “Hey Echo!” I called out to him, “I’m sorry about earlier…”

Echo simply shook his head with a soft smile on his lips, “Don’t worry about it.”

There was only one thing was on my mind as I helped Echo with the rest of his tasks.

Tonight when Tech returns… I’ll ask him out on a date before I end up throwing something more than a crate.

Taglist

@brynhildrmimi @that-one-potato-girl @arctrooper69

#star wars #star wars imagine #starwars #clone wars #bad batch #bad batch imagine #bad batch x reader #star wars x reader #tech #tech angst #tech x you #bad batch tech #tech x y/n #tech x reader #tech x phee #clone trooper tech #starwars imagines #bad batch angst

[justme-1723]

Ep. 5 Ramblings (After watching it a second time)

- Protective Sand is so sexy. (This is important information and vital to the plot 🫣)

- The way Ray & Sand compliment each other is just *chefs kiss* (Sand is a natural caregiver and Ray wants/needs to be taken care of) Their sarcasm. The way they can banter back and forth. Sand knows when to tease him and Ray knows when to pout/give puppy eyes. Sand stands his ground and Ray gives in. Ugh, I could go on and on.

- Nick interrupting SandRay, but also leaving as quickly as possible because he ships it was king behavior.

- Ray eating his breakfast after Sand asks him to (even after he said he didn’t want it at first) was so 😩

- I’m not sure if anyone else noticed this… The face Ray made after Sand told him that he didn’t trust him with his life broke my fucking heart.

- Ray smiling after Sand helped him with his helmet (while Sand was facing away from him no less). You aren’t slick babe. We see those heart eyes 😻!

- The entire clothing store scene! Everything about it was perfect. That second outfit he chose for Ray was horrible and I wanted to rescue our sad meow meow.

- Mew is so fucking adorable. That’s it. That’s all I have to say.

- But seriously… Top seemed genuinely concerned for him and was also ready to destroy the person who almost ran Mew down. One point for Top.

- Nick & Boston were entirely too sweet the majority of the episode. I didn’t believe it, but I also couldn’t help loving it because Mark is just fucking precious.

- Nick changing his entire identity just to keep Boston interested was super depressing. It was also very realistic and relatable… I felt called out honestly.

- Summer. Sweet Summer. I just love that she backed off and didn’t make things awkward. I also found it interesting that Ray chose to tell Sand that he wasn’t flirting, just simply keeping her company. He then completely shifted his attention away from Summer once Sand returned and didn’t even notice that she left.

- I’ve said this before, but Ray looks so damn happy anytime he’s with Sand. He’s relaxed. He’s lighter. He smiles so big and bright. He just seems comfortable and free.

- The TopMew date was very interesting. Loads to unpack and I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it. Something about them is just… off. I think it’s supposed to be this way. Like… Top says I love you first and I was so shocked. I literally couldn’t process it lol. I honestly have no idea if he was sincere or not.

- Boston wasn’t a dick to Mew when he called for advice about sleeping with Top. Good for you babe.

- Nick is helping with their graduation project? Like… it’s nice of him, but what the fuck?

- I know most people will disagree, but Top didn’t look happy at all when he saw Nick & Ton together. At first glance, I thought he was jealous, but also disgusted? But after watching the episode again I’m conflicted.

- The entire scene with Sand’s mom was amazing. She’s sort of a mess and I feel like there is a lot more to this part of the story, but I loved her so much. I do think Sand has had to take care of her for a big portion of his life. He said himself they are more like friends which is good and they clearly talk about everything, but it makes sense that he’s someone who needs to be in control because his childhood was probably chaotic.

- Ray sang a love song to Sand for his birthday. Okay bestie.

- They opened up to each other about their parents 😭😭😭😭😭!!! This scene was my favorite of the episode. They really took a huge step forward here in terms of trust & communication. (this brings me back to them wearing the exact same shoes in episode one. They might be from different financial backgrounds, but they are more alike than they know. They’ve walked similar paths. Blah blah you know what I’m trying to say!)

- Nick, sweetheart, love of my life. You just had to drag Boston up the steps and into your apartment?! You couldn’t let him suffer alone just this once?

- Sand & Ray being total boyfriends in front of Nick & Boston was just everything I ever wanted. I truly thought Ray was going to freak out when he realized Ton saw them, but he didn’t give a flying fuck and continued to be his clingy self with Sand right in front of their salad.

- I hate you, Boston. I also want to hug you because I think you hate yourself.

- The bed scene with Sand & Ray was devastating. Ray tried so hard to reach out, but Sand couldn’t take his hand. He has so much baggage surrounding whatever happened with his ex and Top, that I’m sure he felt so fucking stupid for letting it happen again. Like great I love someone else who doesn’t love me back. I just wanted to wrap him up and protect him from the world. My heart broke for Ray too. He started the process of moving forward only to have his past thrown back in his face. You could tell how bad he felt for Sand and how desperately he wanted to fix things.

- That final Happy Birthday was so unnecessary and I expect an apology from Khaotung and Jojo because watching First (yes I said First not Sand) shed that single tear was too much from me to handle.

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends series #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #mark pakin #neo trai #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #sandray #topmew #bostonnick #forcebook #firstkhao #neomark #gmmtv series #gmmtv

[lucy-verse]

why do you ship lawtsuda?? no offence, but L literally bullies Matsuda in canon. Plus he would never date him because he thinks he's stupid.

Alright, anon. I’ll bite.

“L literally bullies Matsuda in canon.”

I’m really getting tired of this claim that L “bullies” Matsuda. Bullying is when someone repeatedly seeks out to harass, harm, and/or coerce an individual, which is not what L does with Matsuda. He is dismissive of him and occasionally calls him an idiot. That’s it. Is it asshole behaviour? Yes. Bullying? No.

And as much as I love Matsuda, he does behave like an idiot on numerous occasions. He almost got himself killed and blew L’s cover by trying to play the hero with the Yotsuba Group; and while it could be argued that he was pushed to do it because of everyone underestimating him, let’s not forget that he’s a grown ass adult and could have gone about proving himself in a far less hazardous manner. L calling him an idiot in response was a slap on the wrist - he had every right to kick Matsuda off the investigation altogether.

Literally everyone in the Task Force, Light included, gets exasperated with Matsuda at some point, and yet no one calls them bullies. Let’s be real here - while we as the audience find him endearing, he would likely be an incredibly difficult person to work with in real life, especially during a police investigation. Once again, I’m not saying that Matsuda isn’t treated unfairly at times; I’m saying that L is far from the only character who puts him down and if you consider his attitude bullying, then most of the Task Force is guilty of that too.

“L would never date him because he thinks he’s stupid.”

L would never date Light either, because he’s an abusive, manipulative mass murderer who wants him dead. Yet, Lawlight remains Death Note’s most popular ship. Likely because the whole purpose of fanfiction is having the freedom to disregard canon.

You’re right, L would not date Matsuda in canon. 99% of Death Note ships would never happen in canon. But here’s the thing - I don’t care. I really couldn’t give two shits about canon. If I want to write a fic where L and Matsuda are happily married, living in a cottage with ten children, then I can and I will. Because that’s what fanfiction is for. Making your own stories about existing characters because it’s fun. You’re well within your right to dislike certain ships, but shitting on those who do enjoy it is both childish and pathetic.

As for why I ship Lawtsuda, I have four words for you: because I want to.

I don’t have to justify my ship to you. Both characters are consenting, fictional adults. Me shipping them has absolutely no impact on your life, and if you don’t want to see it on your dash, either scroll past, filter it out, or block me. I used to be bombarded with comments like this back when I was a teenager, and it’s one of the many reasons I deleted all my Death Note fics and distanced myself from the fandom. Thankfully, I’ve grown a spine since then and don’t have time for fans who think they have the right to gatekeep other people’s ships because it makes them feel superior.

TL;DR I ship Lawtsuda because I want to. Get over it.

#ask #ask response #death note #lawtsuda #I swear these people baffle me #is it really so hard to just ignore stuff you don’t like? #imagine going onto someone’s blog and demanding to know why they ship something #none of your damn business #cope

[tamelee]

Hi… what do you think about people hating on naruto and saying that sasuke deserves better than naruto and that he doesn't love sasuke as deeply as sasuke does. And the way he talks in ch 698 like he doesn't want to come out. And he marries the first girl who chases after him to hide his sexuality like a closet gay behavior and live up to society's expectations (following according to his mother's word). Sasuke looked soo sad in Gaiden because Naruto had rejected his love for him. Some SNS shippers say that's why they hate Naruto.

I highly doubt you’re talking about SNS shippers/fans though. I have a feeling I know exactly what kind of stans these are because they’ll take every opportunity to hate on Naruto (and other characters as well). And if such people do claim they are then I’m pretty sure that the ‘🍥’ joining the ‘🍅’ is just in the bio for show. As if to say, ‘I ship SNS, therefore my unsolicited and biased criticism against Naruto is extra valid :)’ when it’s really not, (and vice versa) but I‘ll spare you the rant.

Using secondary source material (anything ’Boruto’) in order to invalidate main source material (’Naruto’ Manga) to then try and rationalize secondary source material-outcomes (the sequel) with assumptions to fill the gap in between these two (blank period) when it’s completely void of all previous logic in the first place, makes a well grounded argument in what way exactly?

In other words; why the hell would you look at the sequel and willing let that change your perspective as if it holds any merit to what we’ve already come to learn?

There is nothing wrong with a good hypothesizing session. I know from experience it can be somewhat soothing to rationalize a way towards something unwanted. In this case, it’s the sequel. ‘Gaiden’ is interesting for its own reasons. It’s sort of like, trying to come up with an explanation that makes an outcome seem a little less… bad. Which becomes easier because Naruto and Sasuke’s misery is fully on display. In the case of these haters though, they make it worse and just blame a character for a company’s money-grabbing decision. To let that be the deciding factor for them that fuels these unhinged claims about him being a bootlicker that acts through hatred or whatever strange mumbo-jumbo they also come up with. But anytime someone tries to make an argument about ‘Naruto’ and uses “because in ‘Boruto’…” you can already cast it aside as invalid.

Connecting two unrelated idea’s doesn’t say nor prove anything. You can’t even disprove it either because the argument doesn’t make any sense.

So it’s also ironic to hate on Naruto using Ch. 698 as an excuse to say he ‘doesn’t love Sasuke as deeply as Sasuke does’, when it’s primarily Naruto trying to explain how deeply he loves Sasuke as best as he can lol. I’m not sure if I’m impressed by the creativity or just dumbfounded that someone can read Ch. 698 and then come to such an irrelevant conclusion as if it has anything to do with ‘coming out’. It’s like having a conversation with someone about a very specific type of bird when another person barges in to ask why they’re discussing how to create your own carrousel. And besides, Naruto may exaggerate his denial profusely when someone brings it up (which is by itself very telling), but he never was good at hiding how he felt about Sasuke or how far he’d go (literally the entire story), even threatening war on behalf of Sasuke, dragging Konoha in it, indicating revenge for Sasuke if he’s harmed when really it was just a matter of his own personal feelings. As… obviously Konoha couldn’t care less and in fact would most likely side against Naruto anyway. He’s already boldly shared his intimate thoughts with the entire world during the war though, didn’t he. He literally connected his Chakra with everyone and spilled his brainrot about him freely.

You can create your very own narrative towards the outcome that is ‘Boruto’ and make it as crazy as you want, but it will still be based on assumptions. In fact, go ahead and write that story if you must, they tried and failed with Hinata’s movie for a reason. I'm sure an SNS-fan can do a better job, in fact, they have.

The idea that Naruto would probably struggle to accept how he feels and what it means, could very well be true. It would definitely be conflicting with the role he is expected to play as Hokage and it’s also something I’m exploring in the story I’m writing. But, so would it be possible that Sasuke will struggle, because we haven’t forgotten that love caused him to experience the most horrible pain through betrayal, yes? Naruto does care about how he’s perceived and he is a people-pleaser that was on a journey to realize that there is a difference between the conditions he must meet in order to soothe his sense of feeling unworthy of love and the unconditional love Sasuke proved to hold for him, regardless of anything else. “Because I feel relieved just looking at you as it reminds me of the love I’ve lost”.

Acknowledging is one thing, accepting is a whole other and then taking the action-steps to pursue it freely would imo require another story which would’ve been a fitting follow-up after Ch. 699 if that was even possible in the first place for Kishimoto to do. But it’s not.

Stop for one second and think about the amount of value you put onto the money-grabbing shit-stain on the franchise that is ‘Boruto’ and whether you want that bullshit, no matter the label, to invalidate everything you’ve loved about it in the first place. Rationalizing something when the bridge toward it is missing completely and where the outcome isn’t followed by logic is just people inventing an explanation to justify their own unhappiness with something. Aka; their hatred for Naruto.

#asktamelee #naruto talk #anti naruto ending #cw boruto

[mychlapci]

TFA anon posting this at midnight where they live but still doing it anyways. About the Preg!G1 Starscream thing.. yes. The sire is Skyfire. (And let’s be real here SkyStar is TFA anon’s number one ship their literal OTP throughout all iterations)

Starscream watches the Decepticons devolve into chaos and is amused but also surprised on how literally nobody had the idea that Skyfire was the sire of his sparklings.

When Starscream decided to carry, the first thing he did was look at his options in terms of a mate. Obviously Megatron was out. He didn’t like Soundwave. Shockwave as an absolute no. His trine.. was debatable but then he decided he definitely did not want his sparklings to end out like TC of all mechs so that limited his options to someone in the Autobots. He wouldn’t be caught dead getting knocked up by the leader of the Autobots, so really his only option was Skyfire which he found himself not minding (despite the fact he was a traitor.. he did tick all the boxes of what Starscream was into unfortunately)

So he sucked up his pride and went to go meet up with Skyfire.

Skyfire was surprised and a bit hopeful suspicious when Starscream asked him to mate with him and was hesitant at first, but then was convinced by Starscream and so he went with it. He knew it would be treason to do this, fucking Starscream of all mechs, but honestly, he was maybe a bit too enamored with him to care.

So Skyfire fucked Starscream. It was a very tight fit considering their size differences and really Skyfire could only make it almost halfway before he couldn’t fit anymore in but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant for Starscream. In fact, when Skyfire breached him for the first time, Starscream would never admit that he cummed his brains out when the fat head of his spike slipped in.

Skyfire is slow and gentle, not wanting to hurt Starscream until he wraps his legs around him and begs him to fuck him until he couldn’t think and then the shuttle is using his size difference to his advantage as he uses the smaller bot as a fleshlight and pounds his pussy until he’s completely spent. Starscream really puts the ‘scream’ in his name to good use as he shouts and squeals and cries all over him from overstimulation, squirting almost painfully all over Skyfire’s spike for the umpteenth time. Skyfire’s servo is holding Starscream’s entire torso and is bouncing him up and down his spike like it was nothing and to be quite honest, Starscream gained a size kink after that.

When Skyfire empties his entire load into Starscream’s forge, they both instantly know he’s sparked. There’s no way he’s not.

Over the course of time, Starscream would periodically disappear from the Decepticon base to top up on transfluid from Skyfire, who is more than happy to help his new mate. Nearing the date of his emergence, his disappearances would become more and more frequent until eventually he just leaves and goes missing for nearly three months, leaving everyone wondering where the hell he went.

Meanwhile, Starscream is giving birth in a secluded cave Skyfire had found to a trine of sparklings. He nurses the sparklings for the time he was missing, and Skyfire drops by everyday to supply the seeker with energon and spend time with his sparklings. He is very happy to be a sire to three adorable sparklings.

When Starscream finally comes back after being gone for so damn long and shows off his babies, they realize that one of them looks almost exactly like that one Autobot shuttle who used to be around here a lot.. and then it clicks.

Yeah.. they have no idea why they didn’t see that coming.

I like to think that while Starscream stayed with Skyfire more and more he (unwillingly) grew feelings for him so now they’re just an official but not really official couple now?? It’s complicated.

Either way, they share custody of the sparklings, and the Autobots find out who is the sire, and Prowl has an aneurysm.

hrhhh Size Difference. Skyfire using Starscream like a fleshlight and Starscream fucking loves it. He cums his brains out around Skyfire’s spike until he can barely even register the big fat load of transfluid bloating out his forge… It’s too good. 

Something so sweet about Starscream disappearing to give birth somewhere in an unmapped cave, with only Skyfire around to bring him his energon, to comfort him through the contractions, to coax out the large babies… I think Starscream’s water broke unexpectedly, while Skyfire was gone on an energon run, so when he came back with the fuel, Starscream was cursing him out, his valve gaping open around their first sparkling as it emerged… The trine is born over the next couple of days, and Starscream starts to nurse them. I do like the idea that cybertronian sparklings need to spend a while with their creators and their creators only to imprint and bond properly… The ‘Cons assume that Starscream is currently in the middle of that. Which he is. 

Obviously they grow big feelings for each other. Starscream begrudgingly admits, only to himself though, that he likes Skyfire, and Skyfire just wishes he could have Starscream and their sparklings on his side constantly. The autobots are not happy about his cross-faction fooling around. He gave Starscream heirs. The enemy’s second in command. He gave him heirs. Not just that, this way Starscream has gained a tiny sliver of respect amongst the troops, proving himself a capable leader, at least to an extent. Next time he gives the order to blow someone up to smithereens, they might actually listen.

#valveplug #pregnancy mention #birth mention #birth