#and they’re also the sort of freaks who would hold toes so that’s at least four appendages per person

[thebluestbluewords]

five golden rings

poly ot4 because I know what I’m about. A little holiday repost.

+

Evie owns a lot of jewelry. 

What she doesn’t own, however, is the golden ring that’s sitting on the top of her jewelry box. It’s a nice ring, small and gold and with a little round blue stone set into it. 

There’s no note, but it’s a nice ring, and it goes perfectly with the glittery skirt that Evie’s had on the top of her to-be-worn pile for ages, so she slips it on her right hand. Her starstone droplet earrings match as well, and the soft sweater with the embroidery on the collar is the perfect blend of cute and cozy that she needs for the last week of school before the holidays. 

Outfit selected, Evie throws a slipper at Mal on her way to the bathroom. 

“Fuck’ff,” the blanket lump on Mal’s bed mumbles. “Too cold.” 

“Too bad!” Evie calls back. “Get your dragon butt moving or I’m going to open all the windows and let it snow on you!” 

“Mmrgh,” Mal groans, instead of answering. “Mgreeb.” 

Glitter eyeshadow is so outdated, even for the holidays. “Did you leave me a ring, babe?” Evie asks as she’s putting on her liner, and Mal is stumbling her way out of bed. “It’s cute.” 

Mal presses her face into Evie’s shoulder and mumbles something inaudible. Her hair is sticking up into two little cowlick spikes like her mother’s horns, and it’s kind of adorable. 

“Do you think I should wear the cherry red or the mahogany today?” Evie wonders, holding up the two lipsticks. “Babe?” 

“Cherry,” Mal mumbles, and leans around for a kiss. “Tastes better.” 

“Of course.” 

“And I didn’t leave the ring,” Mal adds. “It’s from Jay.” 

“It’s cute, I’ll have to tell him he has good taste for once.” Evie says, lifting up her hand to admire it. “I almost want to layer more, but it shines so well alone too.” 

Mal bonks her head into Evie’s cheek. “I would wait on layering any more,” she says, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You never know what else might show up.” 

“Oh?” 

Another kiss. Distracting. “I just think,” Mal says, between pecks that are getting deeper each time. “That there might be,” Another kiss. “More to the present than,” a deeper kiss, lingering. “Just this one.” 

Evie puts down her lipstick and returns the favor. “You think so?” she says, almost teasing. “Sure nobody put him up to it?” 

“Gifting is about bringing joy to others,” Mal says loftily. “And if I find joy in giving other people gift ideas then it’s none of your business how that happens.” 

Evie laughs, and keeps laughing all the way through her morning routine. 

*

There’s another ring in her pencil case. Still gold, but this time with a little red stone. Square cut, and matching the blue one. Evie slips it on her finger just before she picks up her pencil for the final history lecture of the semester. 

*

A third ring, this time clipped around the ring of her chemistry binder. A diamond shaped stone, black as the night and glittering with internal crystals. 

*

The fourth ring has a pale purple stone, cut into an oval. It stacks on with the others, a little progression of bright shapes and shining gold bands up the pale skin of her finger. It comes slipped into the top of her bag just after lunch, as she’s rushing to her next class and worrying about the end-of-year quiz she’s going to have to finish out the day. 

It makes her smile, which is worth a lot more than the little piece of metal and stone’s monetary value. Worth more than a castle, the love that she has for her little family. 

Auradon has made her soft for affection, and it’s not a bad feeling. 

*

“Hey princess,” Jay says later. Evie is washed up for bed now, soft and wearing her cozy dressing gown that she made herself before they came over to the land of fairy-tale endings. “I have something for you.” 

Evie looks up at him, this wonderful boy who finds things just for her, even when they lived on an island with nothing of real value except for the people it contained. “Jaybird,” she says softly. Just for the two of them. Mal and Carlos don’t need to know that they’re being emotionally vulnerable over here. “Thank you.” 

Jay doesn't really blush, but he ducks his head.“It’s just a little thing,” he says, like an apology. “This one isn’t as nice as the others.” 

Evie stops her restless fingers from playing with the other four, which she’s still wearing, stacked up on her right ring finger like the treasure that they are. “And I’m not as nice as the other princesses,” she says. “Since when has that ever stopped us?” 

“True,” Jay says, and opens his hand for her. “Here it is. Five golden rings, delivered just for you, Princess.” 

Evie scoops up the fifth ring. It’s a plain gold band, much like the others. The stone set in this one is clear, shaped like a heart, and with a crack running through it. She slips it onto her finger, settling it right where it belongs at the top of the stack. 

She holds out her hand, and Jay scoops it up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the stones. “Fairest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

“Charmer.” Evie shoots back. “Flattery will get you– oh!” 

Jay pulls back. “Do you want me to stop?” 

It’s so easy to pull him back in for one more kiss. “Never,” Evie whispers against his lips. “Never-ever-ever.” 

[yanderes-galore]

hey! i wanted to say, i really love your work, especially your tmnt stuff! hope you’re having a nice day!

can i request rottmnt raph with a darling who always seems to find themselves in trouble? maybe they’re really reckless, or maybe they’re just super unlucky.

Yeah, sure! Concept as not specified, if you wanted something longer I would appreciate a plot to go by. Aged up as usual. I'm happy you love my work ^^ My day is pretty okay.

Yandere! ROTTMNT! Raphael with Reckless! Darling

Short Concept/Reaction

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Paranoia, Implied kidnapping, Implied isolation, Stalking mention, Implied clingy behavior, Leans towards platonic but can be seen as romantic.

- You're going to give him a heart attack.

- Raph seems like the more parental Yandere out of all the ROTTMNT turtles.

- Which means, when it comes to his darling, he feels responsible for your safety.

- Regardless of if his obsession is platonic or romantic, he feels you should be under his care.

- When he hears you got into trouble again, it freaks him out.

- Does not matter if you got hurt by accidental danger or not, you scared the shell out of him.

- "What are you doing!? Stop getting yourself hurt!"

- Would be someone to start locking things down if he sees you keep getting hurt.

- He'd do things such as lay out rules or straight up prevent you from leaving the lair.

- You're probably going to be treated as a child if you can't keep yourself out of danger.

- He's responsible for his family, if you're also his family, then he has to make sure you're safe.

- Complain all you want, he doesn't care.

- You being upset hurts him, but seeing you safe matters way more to him.

- With a reckless! darling it's easy to imagine him lean into a more parental-like role.

- He would definitely give you lectures on how ro be safer.

- Unlike him, you don't have tough skin or a shell.

- You should realize just how fragile you really are!

- At least, in his eyes you are, due to how big and strong he is.

- He can be very overbearing about your safety.

- He'd probably snap at the thought of you dying on him.

- He loves you...

- Could you please stop getting into trouble for him?

- "You're mad at me...? I'm just keeping you safe, (Y/N). Isn't that what you're supposed to do when the one you love is in a situation like this?"

- Most of your time is spent in the lair.

- Raph probably asks Don to set up some sort of security or gear to keep you safe.

- The large mutant also never leaves your side most of the time.

- Not really into stalking, yet if it's necessary... so be it.

- That way if anyone attacks, he'll be able to help!

- You will not be able to push him away from you.

- He's always just a little too close.

- He wants to hold you, carry you, and keep you safe.

- Both from enemies and normal people he doesn't like around you.

- He comes off as just super protective/obsessive over you.

- More than if you weren't reckless.

- With someone constantly in danger, Raph feels he must always be on his toes.

- Which leads to his behavior getting progressively worse.

- The turtle feels he can't even trust you alone.

- Can you really blame him that he's so scared to lose you due to your nature?

- "I only ask that you stay safe because I love you... can you even promise me that?"

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Hestia

This is another eternally virgin goddess, so we're doing another pseudo-demigod by adoption (like we did with Athena).

Demigod MC: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia

Hestia is the goddess of the Hearth, Home, Architecture, Domesticity, Family, and the State. She's high up there (firstborn of Rhea and Cronus), but several factors have led to her falling into the background when compared to the other (flashier) Olympians. She swore to never marry, rejecting proposals from both Poseidon and Apollo, and is something of an antithesis to Aphrodite.

Lucifer

Honestly? He thought they were exactly what they were after. A weak human with no experience in the magical world what-so-ever.

Well… He was half-right.

On the surface, this is a pretty weak human. They don't have super flashy powers or a divine birth from the gods… but they do have a very protective adoptive mother.

The brothers had just settled in for their first dinner with the new human when the goddess herself strolled into their dining room, asked who was in charge, then dragged Lucifer away by the ear!

She's not even his mother, yet he felt the intense urge to apologize and put himself in his own room… Oh, the humiliation… at least she did the same to Diavolo…

The Prince was only able to calm her down by promising absolutely NO harm would come to her child… on their heads...

By the time the goddess finally let him go, Lucifer was about ready to shackle the MC to his wrist so nothing could touch them but he settled on keeping them with him like an assistant of sorts. They were in charge of helping him with the paperwork so he could keep an eye on them. 

What he didn’t expect was for them to be so… good at it? They could keep his offices clean, they managed his daily schedule, fixed up the House, and still have time to bring him tea and sweets every night!

They could even reign in his brothers somehow… They weren't strong or intimidating, but one or two mildly unhappy words out of them and everybody would be on their best behavior.

Was everyone positive they're only human...?

As much as he hated to admit, he may have a slight deep case of falling for the housekeeper… He would make a move, but well…

He has Beel to contend with first.

Mammon

Okay so, watching Lucifer get dragged out by the ear just like Raphael used to do to him was hilarious!!! The whole room got a good laugh! 🤣

Until Hestia glared at them and suddenly they all felt like they'd disappointed someone important….

And all that fuss over some dumb human??

So what if they made amazing food?

So what if they could clean the entire mansion in a day?

So what if they were the walking equivalent to a warm cup of cocoa on a winter's day??

So what if they were just the kindest, sweetest thing in this godforsaken hellscape and he would throw himself in front of a bus to keep them safe-

-Wait, when did that happen?!?

Seriously, Mammon's attachment to the MC came out of NOWHERE to him. One day, he was threatening to eat their soul and the next he's freaking out when they stub their toe!

He swears they have to have some kind of magic about them! A charm, or a spell, or… their lovable smile and warm, loving hugs...! 😊

Damnit!! They're too cute!! He needs them to go away but also never leave, thanks. 😒

In all seriousness, though their kind nature puts Mammon's tsundere self at a bit of a disadvantage, his protective instincts shoot through the roof whenever they're involved.

Naturally, that means his day is spent running them away from hungry lesser demons or shielding them from Beel and Lucifer's tug-of-war matches… He's a busy guy these days. 😖

Leviathan 

They're so… so… MOE!!!

That was his immediate thought when Mammon brought them home. He was expecting a defenseless human, but not one that could have stepped out of one of his slice-of-life manga!

To be honest, his instant thought was try and find a place to sit them on his shelves with the rest of the adorable characters he loves… 😅

And that was before they even opened their mouth! Five words into their introduction and he was ready to get their face on a t-shirt!!

Honestly, combine their natural cuteness with their household skills and they made for perfect waifu/husbando material… 

Not helped by the fact they found one of his maid/butler outfits while doing the laundry one day. Not only did they ask if they could wear it, they actually non-ironically liked it and started wearing it around the House!!

Oh he got cornered by Beel, Lucifer, and Mammon separately that day because they thought he was using them for fetish fuel… But it was their idea, he swears!!

I mean… He didn't discourage them or anything either but still…

If Beel hadn't claimed them on Day One, Levi might have eventually thrown his hat in the ring too... Oh well… he can pine from a distance… What else is new? 😔

Satan

He has a video of Hestia dragging Lucifer out of the dining room on his phone and it's one of his most treasured possessions now. 😌

He is perhaps the only person in the House who was not at all impressed with their little human.

So they could cook? So could he. So they can clean? That's not impressive. They could manage a household? Big deal, he's more or less been in charge of the same thing for centuries!

As far as he saw it, there was nothing the MC could do that he couldn't do as proficiently or even better. There was nothing remarkable about this human at all!

… except for one thing.

That maid/butler outfit of Levi's? The one they like to wear around?

It has cat accessories…

Either they don't notice or they don't mind it but they essentially walk around the House cleaning things with little kitty ears attached to their head and a bell on their collar…

Dammit… Why did Levi even buy that?!?

Satan ended up getting in trouble for enchanting their outfit to give them REAL ears and a tail "accidentally..." Lucifer strung him up by his toes, Beel gave him a black-eye, and Mammon still calls him a "perverted cat freak" but it was worth it, he says, worth it!!

Asmodeus 

Oh Beel…

Asmo saw Beel's feelings for the MC coming from a mile away. He didn't even need to confirm it with a sniff check, he had them scented by the end of their first night!

Lucifer, on the other hand, now that was a surprise... 😏

Ask him a century ago if Lucifer would ever consider a human lover, godly mother or no, and he'd have laughed! Yet here he is, giving gifts and sneaking whiffs of their adorable new housemate!

Of course, that's causing some commotion because they're pitted against each other, but Asmo finds it kind of cute honestly. 

Beel and Lucifer aren't fighting, not for real. The whole house knows Lucifer would win in a real brawl, but neither of them actually want to hurt the other… They're far too close for that.

So Beel tosses Lucifer around with kid gloves and Lucifer holds back considerably against Beel. It's pretty much just two brothers who love each other squabbling over the same toy… 🤭

Honestly, Lucifer might have bowed out by now and just let Beel have them but now his pride's on the line… thus an endless tussle between family and the sweet MC is in the middle, clueless to it all!

Tragic, is it not? But it certainly makes things more entertaining around here! (Good thing too since Beel beat him to the punch… If it's a fight against those two, he'll have to keep any of his own affairs with the MC under the radar... 😏)

Beelzebub 

He has claimed this one. Full stop.

For a bit of perspective: when Barbatos needs cooking tips, he calls Hestia. Hestia, the Divine Master of All Things Cooking. Hestia, the goddess who raised this MC… 

Needless to say if they have any magic at all, it's in the kitchen.

If food is the way to Beel's heart, this MC has claimed his heart, soul, and probably all of his vital organs. Their food is astounding!! Always perfect every time and so good it brings him to tears!

It started the night of that first dinner, prepared by MC. He was too busy scarfing down the table to even notice a goddess showed up and then he proposed to the MC with their own pig roast by meal's end!

They said no to marriage, but an instant pact agreement suited him just fine.

Beel didn't waste a single moment before he started treating them like a potential mate, territorial aggression and all, but there was a bit of a catch… He kept the MC totally oblivious to it.

Surprisingly, Beel's can turn the "They're MINE" part of his brain on and off pretty well. He's nothing but sweet and cuddly to the MC when they're around and even with his brothers!... as long as they don't try anything.

The moment he caught whiff that Lucifer might be pursuing them too, it was on. Suddenly the two brothers who almost never fight were in competition against each other! But of course, both have an unspoken rule to never do so in front of MC.

And now poor MC believes it's common for demons to "play wrestle" like puppies and hugs are traditionally supposed to be so hard they could snap spines… 

And it doesn’t look like they'll be backing down any time soon… Oh dear...

Belphegor 

You know what? For once, everything goes exactly to plan for Belphie!

No really, this MC has no hidden powers, no magic horses, not even Demon Nip. They are a helpless, trusting little human who just wants to help their big teddy bear get his twin back!

So, you know how it goes. The charm, the lies, the treachery and all of that. He even gets to kill them!! Oh, happy days!! 😁

Come to think of it, they did smell an awful lot like Beel… But who cares, as long as Lucifer suffers right?? And this whole "living together in harmony" crap fails, right?!

Wrong. 

Beel went ballistic. Lucifer did too, but Beel was what really hurt…

Belphie can safely say that in all of his life, Beel has never physically attacked him. Not once, or at least, not with intent to kill… 

But when the sixthborn's fist went crashing through the wall right by his ear that day, he knew his brother's first instinct was to aim for his head… and his second was to miss, as he still loved him, but only by just a little.

What the hell did he just do??

Thank their father for Barbatos and all the funky time stuff he can do because bringing the MC "back" snapped his angry brothers right out of it. 

Things should have been smoothed over at that point but as everyone was finally settling down for tea, Hestia made another appearance in the House… this time carrying a butcher's knife!

Time fix or no, Diavolo had promised her no harm would come to MC and at least one continuity of them DIED… so punishment was now on Lucifer and the Demon Prince himself!

Belphie, in a rare case of guilt and an expression of brotherly love, offered to take their place since it WAS kind of all his fault. His gesture softened the Goddess of Family juuust enough to lighten his sentence from execution to hard labor.

And thus, the MC had their own housekeeping assistant for a whole year, complete with bitter reluctance and a matching maid outfit! Cat-theme and all!!

He's sending nightmares to anybody who laughs… guaranteed. 😒

[dreamii-yume]

Did you say birthday crumbs? 😌😌😌

I saw the cradle in his bday card and immediately thought. Lilia likes babies. He wants babies. MC can give him a baby... Whether she likes to or not.

It's his birthday! Why don't she fulfill his wish, please?

Yume may be very late for Daddy Lilia’s birthday, but there are never truly a time where we can be “late” for hornii. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

“You would be a great mother. I’m sure of it.”

Lilia had randomly told you that one day as what you initially thought as a strange way of breaking the silence. You didn’t think too much of it, there were more things that the old fae had said that left you speechless after all. You laughed at it and took it as a compliment instead, flattered even. He was truly a man full of surprises, you naively thought that day. You didn’t even notice that glint of mischief in his eyes, a sign that may or may not just be some childish intuition, but he was dead serious.

...You know, thinking back, you should’ve noticed all the signs while it was still there, harmless and tamed. You did not understand what he really meant by it, but you accepted it anyway, since you genuinely thought that he meant no ill will. It was most women’s dream to become a good mother after all and you just happen to be very good at taking care of kids. So, for this talent to be recognized by someone older and more experience than you in raising kids, it made you happy. But ever since that day, Lilia started acting strange towards you.

...For some reason, every time you meet up with him, coincidentally or not, it was always your stomach that he’s most especially delicate to. During one of his surprise acts of affection, his hands would always snake down across your tummy, caressing them through your shirt. Whenever he’ll take the opportunity of resting his head down on your lap, you’ll find him eyeing your stomach with a loving look in his eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Even times when you’ll suddenly find him in your bed the next morning, leaning his ear on it like there’s even something to hear on the other side. When you get scratches and wounds just near your waist line, Lilia would freak out and patched you up as fast as possible, whispering something about how upset he is for something to damage your skin on this specific spot.

You weren’t one to judge people, Lilia was a man full of surprises after all. It wouldn’t be too strange if he has some kind of stomach fetish of some sort. Even though you knew that this man was a lot older than what you already thought, Lilia knows best on how to use his appearance as weapon and mean to get out of the situation. He’s so childish and mischievous, kinda like how a typical young boy would act, and to you, who’s weak against the affections of a child, it was a blade that cuts you deep. It bothered you for a bit, but eventually got used to it, letting him do what he wants.

“Eh? Lilia-senpai, you have kids?”

“You can call them that, but they’re not my own.”

Eventually, you started catching on his true intentions bit by bit and they were surprisingly very wholesome...At first, at the very least. He was very careful of not naming the identity of the children that he took care of, but being able to hear him fondly remembering his moments with them, you came to understand him a bit more. You didn’t want to assume to much to a life that you’re not very familiar with, but a simple thought came into your mind.

Perhaps, Lilia was simply...lonely.

He is fond of children, and had claimed to raise some until they could walk in their own out in the outside world. His bond and love for them was undoubtedly absolute, but as he said, his relation to them was not something that he could call his own. Perhaps Lilia was not interested in your abdominal region alone, but instead of the womb that can bare those children. Thinking that, you almost considered all his actions justified, not that you didn’t before, but at least you have some sort of context behind it. Lilia said that you were going to be a great mother someday, but with these thoughts in your head, you just can’t help but think that it’s a compliment that best suit him instead.

...That’s what you kept thinking as he one day grabbed you by the hand, leading you in the bounds of his room. His hands were so smooth, moving across your arms, legs, and back, giving you goosebumbs along the way. Of course, his last destination was on your stomach, going underneath your shirt and feeling warmness of it all. He nibbles on your neck like a little mouse, but with one wrong move, his fangs could absolutely pierce your flesh open. Charmed by his hypnotic touch, you reaction didn’t quite line in with your rationality as Lilia pulled you by your chin and slammed his lips against yours.

With his tongue playing inside your cavern, his saliva felt as if it was laced with natural aphrodisiac, rendering you immobile. You were surprised, but got you distracted enough to not be able to notice your clothes slowly being stripped away. Chuckling, Lilia couldn’t help but find yo oh-so adorable, having to completely wrap you around his fingers

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“P...Please...I-I’m so full...” You sobbed as you covered your face in embarrassement, still in disbelief that something like this is happening to you. “Pull out...! Please, I c-can’t take any more...!”

Flinching as his fingers traced over the small bulge in your stomach, filled with the seed that can penetrate the depths of your flower so easily. “Not yet, Love. Just a little more.” He whispered, eyes half-lidded and seemingly drunk with both lust and pleasure. “We’ll have to make sure that you get the most of it in.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from your lower region as he pushed himself in your cunt deeper. “Aagh!” You squeaked as you instinctively grabbed the sheets and grit your teeth. Despite his best attempt of stuffing your hole with his own cock, his overwhelming cum had still managed to seep out through the gaps and stains the bed. Lilia hummed in disappointment, before scooping some in his fingers.

“Aw...What a waste.” He sighed, coming into terms that your human body just doesn’t have enough capacity to hold truck-load of a fae’s love juice. You also hoped that he had come to understand that yourbody is practically giving out on you. You’re exhausted, after being relentlessly fucked for hours, you just wanted to let your heavy eyelids fall but every time you do so, Lilia would use pain to wake you up. However, he took one look at the white substance sticking to his fingers and he proceeded to glance back at you, the look in his eye was not something you appreciated. Unfortunately, you were not given enough time to ponder over what went through his head as he suddenly shoved those cum-filled fingers inside your mouth.

He pinches you tongue, smearing the flavor of his love juice on your taste buds with a sadistic smirk on his face. “...Guess we’ll just have to improvise, yeah~?” He playfully said, as your mouth quavered whilst forcefully tasting his salty juices. You whined at his actions, but Lilia sighed heavenly from just your horrified and tearful expression combined. “Aah...What a good girl...I knew you were the perfect fit for me~!”

To your dismay, he began to move again, motivated to ruin your body both inside and outside once more than it already is. He pulled his fingers out of you, before immediately cupping your cheeks obsessively. “Those eyes...Oh, how I love those eyes.” Lilia said and in an instinct, you closed them as a force of habit when he began to move his hips, dragging your battered walls along. “...The eventual eyes of a dedicated mother, a loving wife.”

“Even after all this time, your eyes haven’t died yet. How wonderful...” You cried as you felt the disruption straight into your womb, toes clenching as you weakly gripped onto him. “This is exactly why...”

“...You would be a great mother, Darling...” Lilia told you once again, reminiscent of his former words but now carries a heavy burden on you. His eyes glows red, learning closer to your lips to give you yet another painful, yet passionate kiss. “...And just the perfect, loving wife that I dreamt of.”

Since I was late, this doesn’t seem to have anything related to Lilia’s birthday at all (*´Д｀*) pls im sorry my head is long been drained but regardless, Yume’s still going to put this in the Birthday Crumbs watch me break my own rules lol

Yume’s Resolution is to get a driver’s license and be better at it, and write sinfics faster. (*´꒳`*) What’s yours, Darlings?

[painted-crow]

hey so i'm looking to figure my sorting out. i'm p sure of my secondary but honestly i've gone in circles so many times that i'd believe anything lmao

so i guess to start like. i'm fairly sure i'm an idealist, but with a twist. i care about making the world a better place-- i'm kinda infamous among my friends for being a little TOO outspoken about my opinions. on a small scale, i have strong opinions about a lot of things, but on a larger scale... idk. i don't think any one person can know what an ideal world looks like cause there really is no such thing. there are literally countless variables when it comes to implementing even small systems, countless ways to fuck it up, so i don't think i'd be choosing some grand ideal over the people i love anytime soon.

that being said, i think my idealist streak gets directed into something else most of the time. i'm very focused on understanding myself to a fault. i want to know why i do the things i do, why i believe certain things over others. when it comes to my beliefs about the world, they're strong but take it or leave it, but when it comes to myself they are not a good idea to push. i've ended relationships over not feeling like myself with them or feeling like i'm losing myself or they're pushing me to be someone i'm not. i make strong instant decisions about what the "right" thing to do is when it comes to how it impacts my perception of myself, especially with intimate relationships (i'm a lot less impulsive with things like friends and things i'm less personally involved in). i NEED to know who i am, way more than i care about any one specific person or thing. obviously i love people very deeply and would do just about anything to have both, but if i don't know who i am, if i'm not true to myself, then i have nothing. losing people happens.

the issue is, because i'm prone to doing that and not thinking as much about how it'll impact people, i've been called selfish a lot over my lifetime. recently i've started thinking more about how my actions impact people and their feelings, and i'm feeling a lot more torn. i want to do what i want to do, what i feel is best, but i feel immature for doing it a lot. i've started worrying a lot about being a bad person and hurting people, and i've been thinking about how the "right" way to be is. i went through a phase where i was repressing myself to make the "moral" choice, but i just felt so flat. ultimately i realized that it doesn't really matter how good i am if i have to repress myself to get there, cause then all it is is performance. tldr is i feel super guilty for making "selfish" choices rn, especially as i've gotten more aware of other peoples' feelings.

what i think is probably going on is that i'm an idealist primary with a badger model, but i'm not sure between lion and bird, and i'm still open to badger. pretty sure i'm not a snake.

the section on my secondary's gonna be a lot shorter, sorry this got so long! so i'm p sure i'm a badger secondary. considered lion and snake secondary too. whatever i am, i have a p loud lion model over it. i've always had a gift for making people trust me, for acting. i kinda blend in and become what i need to to both help them and get them off my back so i can do what i need to do. i have a serious passion for helping people with tough love (i like to think of myself as a p good advice giver, since i can both tell people what they need to hear and really get in their shoes and be kind where other people might not). i think i judge myself the least when i can kinda toe that line between pushing boundaries and stepping back-- i track where peoples' boundaries are constantly so i can push them to the limit without stepping over them. i'm very fluid when it comes to presentation in reality, even though i think people actually think of me as kinda controversial. i tend to see people who are ACTUALLY overstepping boundaries as lowkey selfish at times, even though i also really respect them. i like to do things the "right" way as long as i give a shit about them. the catch is, i don't want to blend into the background, and i don't think i do. a partner of mine called me a fox cause he noticed the way i constantly toe that line where i can get people to notice me and still keep them off my back, still make them comfortable. i'm also NOT a planner. people constantly give me shit for only ever feeling things out in the moment, and honestly thinking about the future freaks me out. i don't want to plan how i do shit i'd rather just get in the zone and figure it out from there. tldr i'm pretty sure i'm a badger secondary? but i could be convinced of snake. definitely see elements of both but my gut's telling me badger so take that how you will

anyway! thank you so much for taking the time to answer this, i know it's a lot.

also sorry one thing i forgot to add about my secondary! i think my lion model got so loud because when i do the shifty presentation thing, i have a tendency to lose myself and start perceiving myself as whatever i'm presenting. it's made it really hard to figure out who i actually am and so i started just being as clear about it as possible.

for my primary, i really care a lot about being right. i try to take every side into consideration to make sure i get the best conclusion. i can be super stubborn when it comes to certain things, but i don't want to just... hold to perceptions that are wrong. that being said it's important to me to trust my gut and i take it as a big input. i'm very felt out for most things, don't really have a strong system of how to be. i really wanna be able to trust myself but i just don't. i have a big habit of relying on other people to tell me what to think, which is uh. yeah.

Primary

You're a Bird primary with a Lion model, and you're trying on some Badger ideals. That's one of the easier Sorts I've done, lol! Possibly because your primary and models actually House match mine :p

Your reasoning process screams Bird xD and so does your writing style and just the length of the ask. Birds love self-analysis, it's part of how we make sure our systems stay as close to true as we can make them.

You've got some Lion too, but it's a model. It sounds like your Lion and your Bird have come into conflict before, and like most Birds with Lion models, it bugs the snot out of you when your Lion's intuition (which is important data!) doesn't line up with what your Bird knows.

You've prioritized Bird's conclusions before, but (as with many Birds) you don't entirely trust your own system and you're wondering if your Lion might have been right and you should give its reasoning more weight.

Also, you're consciously deciding that maybe Badgers' way of doing things is more moral than yours, and you're pulling in some of those ideals. That doesn't make you a Badger primary. Birds are notorious for this kind of thing actually 😂

The line between whether some ideals you've pulled into your Bird system vs. what counts as a model is fuzzy. It's up to you really, how important those pieces of Badger are to you.

For me, I think the line might be--is it wired into your sense of self on its own, or does it get filtered through your Bird and Lion? It really sounds like your Lion is a strong part of your sense of self: if you ignore its advice, you feel not totally like yourself. You don't have to feel all your models equally strongly, but thinking of it that way might help.

(It's also hard because Birds often feel like they kind of are their systems, or they are their ability to reason, that's a core part of their identity. ...It's complicated.)

Secondary

You sound really really Snakey. I'm not sure where you're getting Badger, actually!

Badgers are more than the mirroring ability. They also bury themselves in work or community, and it can sometimes look like they're neck deep in so many responsibilities that they couldn't possibly handle any more problems--and then they do have a problem, they do need something, and they stand up and all that stuff they were buried in turns out to be armor and tools.

Snakes, otoh, are improvisational and tend to be very aware of their surroundings. Unlike Badgers, the Snake brand of social shapeshifting involves a lot of keeping track of other people's reactions to what they're doing--trying something and then watching the response, then adjusting, rinse and repeat. You turn yourself into exactly the right person for this situation.

Badger mirroring is usually simpler. You reflect the other person's energy back at them: it's an empathetic response that says we're alike, I accept you, you're safe. A lot of Badgers do this without thinking--it can be hard to turn off.

Snakes also don't go in for prep work as much, it tends to trip them up (Snakes with Badger or Bird models notwithstanding). They're Improvisational secondaries, unlike Bird and Badger which are Built and rely heavily on some form of preparation.

The Lion model sounds legit, but just check for yourself: you might be learning to use Snake's neutral state. Snakes will sometimes drop all their layers of acting and maneuvering and suddenly they're just themselves. Different Snakes have different relationships with neutral state. For some Snakes, it's a relief to drop the mask; for others, it feels vulnerable and they only trust certain people with their full authenticity.

It does sound like you really admire Lion secondaries, though, so you might indeed have a model there! This is just something else you could check on.

Hope that helps!

- Paint

[writingssummit]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

song listened to while writing this: line without a hook.

an aone x g/n reader

content: aone and tackling new feelings towards reader, fluff.

warnings: small amount of angst if you squint.

word count: 1.6k words

a/n: i heard this song play on spotify at like 2am, felt compelled to write for either aone or asahi, and went with our kind, gentle giant <3 it’s slightly different from the actual meaning, but the song was just what made this idea pop into my head. i started but fell asleep at 3 LOL, so I finished it up just now :> i hope you enjoy !

aone isn’t good at expressing himself, and he doesn’t often speak. settling for stiff hand movements or staring, bowing, you get the gist. respectfully silent.

you’re both friends, mostly by chance, because you ended up being seated next to him in class.

you were the talker, he listened.

you’d even walk with him to his practices and just ramble on and on about whatever interested you that day.

you’d even stay during those practices if his coach allowed it.

it was at a point where koganegawa asked aone if you both were together.

now, he’s inexperienced with love, very very inexperienced. 

so when he was asked this, he froze in his spot. thrown off, if you will. like, baby doesn’t know how to respond.

but there’s obviously something there.

your friendship with the very tall middle blocker was something unexpected and unlikely, those around you both could never really wrap their heads around the idea. the height difference for one, why weren’t you intimidated? and it had all started with a seating arrangement.

you both were complete opposites. while aone preferred to stay quiet, you liked to talk. you filled the silence between you both, which was just fine with him. if anything, he was somewhat used to it, since he was around koganegawa a lot. not to mention he was friends with a certain #10.

“and it’s amazing to think he did it like that! don’t you think, aone?” you hold a fist in the air, clenching it for dramatic effect. he gave a small nod, and you grinned. “i thought so. say, you have practice again today, right? do you think i could stay and watch? it’s always so cool to see you block the balls like this!” you mimic the blocking motions you occasionally saw when they were in their gym. while you knew little of the game, the plays and games were intriguing enough to you to hold your interest. you even started to pick up on a few things here and there. not to mention that aone was also there. it was force of habit at this point, you were almost always around with him.

a quick glance down at you was all you needed. despite his intense looks, you had a vague understanding of what they meant. you had to be somewhat able to read him if you were to have communication of sorts. you felt your heart swell with happiness. all that was left was to get his coach’s permission, and then you could spectate again!

“haven’t you been neglecting your club?”

you cringe at coach oiwake’s question, fingers twitching as you stood by the entrance with your white haired friend. 

“w-well..you see-”

. . .

“fine.” 

“thank you so much!” you thanked the coach profusely, you thought for sure that he would’ve just sent you well on your way.

koganegawa was already inside the gym at that point, like many of his other teammates, noticing that you had come again. he slapped aone on the back with a face that could only be described as his signature look.

“l/n-chan is back again, huh? this is the third time this week, right? right? that’s a lot!” aone only looked back at you, who was settling down off to the side to watch them all, and then back at his friend.

“is it..? a lot.” he didn’t think much about it, but it was true. you did stay longer just to be here, and quite frequently, too. his coach had also mentioned that you were skipping club.

“mm, yeah! l/n keeps missing their own club, i heard. weird, right? i know we’re cool but that’s what games are for!” the energetic boy clenched and un-clenched his fists at shoulder height, sparkling. he paused, and then there was a shift in his energy. he gave aone a side eye, something new to him. 

“is l/n your s/o? is that why they’re always here? that would make a lot of sense!” 

and that was when aone froze up.

completely empty, besides the new thought that just entered his brain. he flushed unbeknownst to him, causing his own teammates to freak out. aone never blushed, this was strange for those witnessing.

and this continued throughout practice.

aone was unfocused, head empty at that point. every time he tried to shake it off, he was back at square one not long after. he was constantly apologizing to the people he was teaming with, all while you watched, oblivious to whatever was going on inside of your friend’s head.

because even though he seemed to be off today, aone was always talented in your eyes. always would be. he might’ve read those blocks wrong here and there today, but everybody makes mistakes. 

by the time practice was over for the day, it was late. you were dozing off against the wall, snoring a little because you had gotten a little tired after the day. 

which left somebody to have to wake you up. 

and aone of course did it himself. you woke up, blinking lazily when you felt a gentle nudge at your shoulder. you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, and smiled softly when you saw it was him.

“aone, is it over?”

“Mm.”

“ahhh, dang. i missed a lot. let’s get going then, if you’re all ready.” you get yourself up with the help of his hands, patting them in appreciation once you were standing.

nothing went unnoticed by aone anymore when it came to you now. koganegawa’s words were on loop whenever he just so much as looked in your general direction. he would catch himself looking away now when you looked back at him, too nervous to hold any form of eye-contact. which was very much unlike him.

you thought that he was mad at you, which made you nervous in return.

a week or so went by, and then another.

now you were quiet when you walked with him to practice.

and he didn’t know why. 

it was when he saw you talking to futakuchi with that beautiful smile of yours that he felt something even newer than whatever he was feeling around you.

he had locked onto you both, watching as you laughed at whatever his teammate was saying, and blinked when he felt a hard clap on his shoulder. it was once again koganegawa.

“mm, what’re you looking at??” he glanced over, and then pursed his lips. “ohh, i see.”

aone broke his stare away from you both, looking sulky somehow.

“jealousy?? from aone??” koganegawa was shook, to say the least. aone had a visible question mark above his head. is that what this was? must be. he didn’t like how it felt at all.

another revelation for aone, but he didn’t do anything about it.

more time went by as the two of you started to drift apart, you of course still went to practices to watch, but you had stopped going to aone as soon as they had finished up. you went to futakuchi.

he must not be good enough, if you stopped talking so much around him. he missed it, he missed being able to listen to you talk about anything and everything. 

and you didn’t even know that the reason he’s been so off around you was because he liked you too. it had never even crossed your mind as a possibility with a good ending, because you were sure there was no way that he just happened to return the same feelings.

withdrawing just made it hurt, on both ends. 

the miscommunication was getting to be troublesome, because aone wasn’t playing his best, distracted by who and when you were watching, the sadness he felt when you weren’t talking next to him, and his teammates noticed. who wouldn’t?

and you were the reason, the team knew that. it was obvious to them even before this awkward time period.

on a particular day, you were talking with futakuchi again, he was just recalling some of the plays and rules, it was a bit easier to ask him instead of aone, because he wasn’t as quiet. which wasn’t any issue, you liked him no matter how much he spoke. but this was convenient at the time for you.

you wanted to understand it more, maybe if you knew more about volleyball, aone wouldn’t look away anymore. maybe he would say more.

but he stopped midsentence and looked behind you, his face plain. with a sigh, he waved a hand. “alright l/n, looks like somebody wants to talk with you. we can continue later, yeah?” you tilt your head, but nod. 

“oh, okay-”

you felt a hand on your arm, and you turned to look over your shoulder. and there aone was.

“aone? what’s up?” you ask nervously. he had approached you this time, instead of the other way around. a welcome thing, but it kept you on your toes.

he stared you down, and you sweatdropped.

“. . .”

“I like you.”

your soul left your body right then and there. it was gone. what?? huh? your body felt a rush of relief and anxiety leave it, because oh my god, he just said that to you. 

“l/n.” he looked off to the side, and you finally realized what that was all about. he didn’t hate you.

“you don’t hate me? oh thank god, i thought you hated me, you stopped looking at me and i got so worried, i-”

“never would.” he coughed into his fist, a small tint of pink dusted across his cheeks. your eyes soften, and you hold you hands up, making grabby hands at his face. he blinked, and then leaned down towards them.

you held his face gently, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before planting a small kiss on his nose.

“i like you too, aone.”

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

If You’re a Robot and You Know It, Clap Your Hands

Fandom: Loki Characters: Sylvie, Ravonna, B-15, Mobius Rating: G Word Count: 1774

Summary: Sylvie faces off against Ravonna while Mobius hangs out in post-prune purgatory with... himself?

“You’re more stoic than he was,” Ravonna noted, nodding at the empty air between them where Loki had lately stood.

Why the taunting, Sylvie wondered. Who was there left for Ravonna to impress? Her subordinates were all dead or unconscious, Loki was gone, the animatronic lizards who were not in fact ruling rigidly over time sat slumped in their seats. There was only Sylvie. Even when she had been a child, thin arm in the grip of a stone-faced woman in black armour like the shell of a beetle, Sylvie had not felt so alone with Ravonna as she did in this moment. It made her very angry. She would much rather have been alone with herself.

“How do you know how stoic Loki looked?” Sylvie spat. “You pruned him in the back!”

Ravonna tilted her head, glowing baton still raised.

“I don’t mean in the face of his own erasure from existence, I mean watching someone he cared about disappear.”

Sylvie’s expression had been hard—more than once, to get by, she’d imagined herself protected by that beetle armour from her childhood, closing her vulnerable parts away behind a scowl—but it slackened slightly in confusion.

“Agent Mobius,” Ravonna explained impatiently. There was a twitch of her eyelid that Sylvie caught and homed in on.

“They were friends,” she said slowly. Then, she stared hard into the Judge’s eyes. “You were friends. You and Mobius. You killed him?”

“I didn’t! I—”

“You had someone else do it?” Sylvie narrowed her eyes scornfully.

With an irritated groan, Ravonna lunged for her, but Sylvie hopped backwards over the head of the fake Time Keeper. She looked down and Ravonna followed her gaze, distracted from her attack by the sight of rubbery faux-flesh and protruding, crackling wires.

“And this?” Sylvie asked quietly, trying not to spook the woman with the weapon. “Did you have a hand in this deception? I never sensed it in you.”

Ravonna scoffed and looked away from the head on the floor.

“You were a child.”

“I was a Loki,” Sylvie snapped back.

Saying that name—the name she’d rejected but never forgotten, the name that had also been his—jolted her into action once more. She wedged the toe of her boot beneath the Time Keeper’s decapitated head and flipped it up, striking Ravonna in the stomach. The Judge folded forward and defensively swept the baton in a wide arc. Sylvie stepped out of the weapon’s path, not anticipating the way Ravonna swung her arm quickly back to hit her with the non-pruning end of the rod; she hadn’t been a Hunter in who knew how long, but she clearly hadn’t lost her skill with the tools of the trade.

The blunt end thudded into Sylvie’s ribs.

She was knocked back, but when Ravonna advanced, Sylvie’s hand shot up to grab the baton, hauling the Judge forward. Unbalanced, Ravonna was no challenge to send sprawling at the foot of the stairs leading up to the Time Keepers’ dais. She landed awkwardly. Sylvie breathed hard as she wrenched the baton completely free of Ravonna’s hold and went to retrieve her sword as well.

As she then moved to assess B-15, who was rising shakily to her knees, Sylvie never put her back to Ravonna. Pruned in the back. What a Loki death.

“You alright?” she asked B-15 softly.

The Hunter grunted and allowed Sylvie to support her into standing.

“Better if I knew where to go from here.”

“Let me worry about that,” Sylvie said.

Ravonna struggled to her own feet and Sylvie held the baton at arm’s length between them, keeping the Judge at a distance while B-15 opened the door behind them.

“Ah ah ah,” Sylvie warned archly, chin and eyebrows raised in impish caution. “You stay here and play with your robots.”

“This is temporary,” Ravonna said as Sylvie edged back through the open door.

Sylvie performed her signature cocked head and smirk.

“Isn’t everything?”

The second they were out of the Time Keepers’ chamber, B-15 slammed the doors and leaned into them, as if Ravonna would imminently begin trying to break them down from the inside. Which Sylvie supposed she might. She really almost admired Ravonna—or would have if the Judge hadn’t ruined her entire life.

She stared at the door handles, then at each of the weapons she held in her hands. Sword or baton, sword or baton? With a deep breath, Sylvie jammed the blade of her sword through the handles to bar the door, electing to keep the baton close. Though it was a less familiar weapon, she was nothing if not highly adaptable. Besides, touching the glowing end of the rod to a person was certainly more efficient than dispatching them with a blade. She wasn’t sure how many TVA workers they would encounter before they were out of here. This place and this time. Keeping the baton was the right choice.

She stole a last glance at the sword. Another little piece of herself left behind.

At the sound of reinforcements headed towards them, she and B-15 hurried away from the chamber.

“She used to be a Hunter,” B-15 said, shaking her head as they strode down the corridor, “like me.”

“I suppose she might have been like you at some point,” Sylvie said. She was interpreting the words a little differently. “I wonder when she stopped.”

“Do you?”

“Not really. I can trust you but not her.” Sylvie shrugged as she walked. “That’s about all I need to know.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I have to.”

“Same for me. Though I can’t say my faith in allies hasn’t been shaken recently,” B-15 said sarcastically. “The Time Keepers aren’t real, Ravonna’s been helping to cover up the truth, and I wasn’t even created here! I probably had to go through that degrading process of having my clothes zapped off!”

“Probably. I didn’t think you’d want to see that as a prioritized memory,” Sylvie said, half-apologetic. While they’d stood in the torrential rain outside Roxxcart, she’d allowed a highlight reel of memories to flash through the Hunter’s mind.

“You know, I always found it kind of strange that one of the few tests we run in this department is to judge whether or not someone is secretly a robot. I guess whoever designed the Time Keepers got paranoid.”

“Whoever that person is, paranoia is the least of their worries.”

“True,” B-15 agreed as she produced a TemPad. “Now, they’re going to have to deal with us.”

“If they’re still out there somewhere and not dead like Loki and Mobius,” Sylvie said bitterly. She flipped the TemPad open and programmed their destination.

“Maybe they aren’t dead. We’ve been misled about everything else. Maybe everyone who’s ever been pruned just ends up someplace… else.”

“It’s no place I’ve ever been.”

“Yet,” B-15 said.

The Time Door appeared before them. Pounding footsteps raced against Sylvie’s accelerating heartbeat as she prepared to step through and leave this place behind. They had to go now, her and her one ally. She couldn’t get above one ally these days. It was better than none.

“Yet,” Sylvie agreed.

—

Meanwhile in Jet Ski Land…

“That’s why I always felt such an affinity for that Earth actor,” Mobius said. “I am Owen Wilson. Or was.”

He dug his bare toes deeper into the slightly rocky beach and watched the slow wash of trash along the shore. It was almost nice here, but not quite. Not a place to stay. Everything inside him had already been screaming that. A lifelong (in this life, anyway) bureaucrat, he’d never felt such restlessness.

“Am… was… what does it matter?” the man next to him asked rhetorically.

He was also Mobius. No, Mobius was him. No, that wasn’t right, they were both Owen Wilson. Variants of him. But this man had shaggy blond hair where Mobius had been grey for as long as he could remember. Also, he appeared to be the only Owen Wilson in sight who had a mustache and he was a little proud of that. Probably stupidly, but it was helping him hold on to his sense of identity in the presence of so many hims.

They were on the beach around him, sitting in the dunes behind him, swimming in the water in front of him. One of the Owens was freaking parasailing through the air up above while another Owen drove the boat that towed him.

“How long have you guys been here?” Mobius asked in awe.

“You know, it’s hard to say,” Owen said, folding his arms thoughtfully. “It’s tough to figure out exactly how time flows here. A little like what you were describing, with your experience at the TVA.”

“Have you gotten to know everybody?”

“Oh yeah, they’re good guys. And all of us Owens are naturally social.”

“What about that one?” Mobius asked, pointing. He could hear the raw admiration in his own voice as the geriatric Owen he’d indicated revved his jet ski, bouncing over the low swells of the turquoise water.

“One of our actors. He was in the middle of filming a movie in Indonesia before he ended up here. Played an international, jet ski-riding spy in sort of a buddy comedy. Eighty-three years old and still a star.”

“What? That sounds incredible! What the heck happened?”

“Well,” Owen told him with a grimace, “the tsunami of 2051.”

“Right,” Mobius said, recalling the list of 21st-century apocalyptic events he and Loki had so recently sifted through together.

“He wasn’t supposed to survive the wave. The film crew had tethered him to the jet ski for safety while they were shooting and, as far as Owen can guess, that should’ve been enough to kill him. That’s what the TVA was counting on. They had to bring him in when he didn’t drown.”

“What a story though! That old Owen is one tough nut!”

“I know!” Owen gushed proudly.

Mobius shook his head in amazement, scanning the water. His gaze landed on something he couldn’t immediately understand.

“And what’s that?” he asked.

“That’s jet-ski Owen.”

“I thought the old guy was jet-ski Owen.”

“Nah, that one’s Owen on a jet ski. This one’s Owen as a jet ski.”

The riderless craft surged across the water until the speed had its front end lifting high off the surface. With a glorious final burst, it escaped the water entirely, executing a barrel roll in midair before touching down once more.

Mobius felt the praise leave his own lips and heard it echoed up and down the beach by all other versions of Owen Wilson in attendance: “Wow.”

[chessdaze]

Happy Halloween!! ...I mean Valentines Day!

I started like a 6 page comic last year for Halloween but it was around the time my mental health was REALLY getting bad so I never finished it and I still don’t have the motivation too. so instead I cleaned up and colored one (and the best) page from the comic and I wrote a small fic for it instead! Time to give you guys some Quinn lore! I hope you enjoy!

“I wasn’t sure at first….” Edelweiss started, looking over the other residence of the dorm gathered in the main foyer, “But the mafia theme was a good idea, Heaven.” 

“Right!” The upperclassmen beamed above her, crossing her arms and puffing her chest out in pride. “Everyone looks great!”

Truthfully the rest of the residence had had much of a say in the idea - because once Heaven has an idea, it’s hard to get her convinced otherwise. Some at least agreed to the idea readily, and started planning out the event the dorm would hold - which was a play of sorts around two opposing mafia families, written by Edelweiss herself. The looks down at her own outfit, a simple black suit with a frilly blouse and a pocket watch with the initials for the dorm on them connected to her bright red bow instead of a tie. It was decided that those who lived on her side of the dorm would wear red ties, and those on the opposite side would wear blue ties. Simple but effective. But, that begged the question…

“Nevaeh!” The girl jumped slightly at her name being called so loudly. No one else in the foyer seemed to bat an eye, Edelweiss yelling had become commonplace. Nevaeh and Heaven were wearing nearly identical outfits, like the twins they are, black suits, respective colored ties, their clips pinning back some of their hair also have the respective colors - and their hair pulled back the exact same way. If they weren’t wearing the different colors, one wouldn’t be able to tell them apart at all. 

“Y-Yeah…?” Nevaeh laughed nervously, which already tipped Edelweiss off to the answer of the question she had yet to ask, but she does so anyways as she steps up to the other twin.

“Where is Quinn?! We have a schedule to keep and I told them to be on time, today of all days!”

Not only for the event, but for the so-called ‘halloween carnival’ the school was having in general. The dorm representatives had jobs to explain what event their dorm was hosting and lead people to the area in which it would take place. There was still time before the school opened their gates, of course, but Edelweiss was not going to be late (not this time, she refused). 

“Um, well, she, they’re--” Nevaeh stumbles over her words, which causes both Edelweiss and Heaven to raise an eyebrow at her. Definitely not typical Nevaeh behavior. But with them so focused on Nevaeh and her reaction, they missed someone else approaching the group completely. 

“Right here, Edelweiss.” a familiar voice said, placing a hand on Nevaeh’s shoulder. They all looked towards the direction of the voice, and any profanity that Edelweiss would have said aloud was thankfully covered by a loud chime of one of the many clocks throughout the dorm.

Quinn was definitely there alright, head to toe in everything not on Edelweiss’s specific outline for the outfits for today - except for the color and pocket watch. The blue kimono looked beautiful on them, no doubt about it. Despite the rather steampunk-ish nature of them, with prints of gears on the kimono and on the hair pieces holding Quinn’s long hair in a bun and also dangling off the side of their face, the gear pieces catching the light and them looking even more beautiful as a result. The corset they wore instead of the traditional ties for kimonos hugged their waist unlike the former. Belts hung around their waist too and it was then it was noticed that instead of multiple layers of the kimono, they were wearing dark pants and black boots underneath it. If they were going for a steampunk look, they definitely nailed it. On a normal day, Edelweis might have entertained the idea of complimenting their outfit. On a normal day, but this was no such day and instead her face went red with anger.

“Sorry I’m late,” Quinn says so nonchalantly, closing the fan they had been holding in front of their face. Oh they had a fan now?! “It takes forever to change into this. Did I miss anything?”

There’s a moment of silence between the group, aside from Nevaeh’s nervous, flustered, laughter. Heaven was blushing as well but looked more confused or bewildered. And Edelweiss? Was just angry. Quinn was always like this! Ugh!

“What’s with that outfit?!” Edelweiss finally snapped, the twins parting and standing behind her, having their own quiet conversation while she yelled.

“Hm?” Quinn tilted their face so innocently, holding the tip of the fan up to her lips. “Whatever do you mean? It’s Halloween and--”

“Don’t be a smartass with me. You know what I mean!” She gestured to the twins behind her, who were still having some kind of silent sibling conversation. “I had put out a specific dress code! We all have to look unified for the play! Your outfit is--”

Suddenly it was like the temperature in the whole dorm dropped as Quinn moved their fan back down to their side and away from their face. Other students finally stopped in their tracks to see the conversation happening, inching backwards to not get caught in the crossfire of whatever was about to happen. Edelweiss felt a shiver down her back as she felt the red anger drain from her face when Quinn looked down at her - a heavy shadow casting over their visible eye.

“Are you saying my outfit looks bad?” Quinn asked, in such a tone that no one in the dorm has heard them use before. It was stiff, serious, intimidating-- “Well, Coney?” Quinn only used people’s last names when he was upset too. 

“Well, uh, no! Th-The outfit is fine…” There she goes, folding into herself as fear is shown across her face and she stumbles a few steps backwards. “It’s great, even! But--”

“Aw, thanks!” The heavy tension is suddenly lifted at the drop of a hat, Quinn making an extravagant twirl. “It’s one of my favorites! I just had to wear it for the play.” Hevean has taken the chance while Quinn is talking to step in front of the shorter girl, while Nevaeh stands nearby, unsure how to react until Quinn calls for her. “Nevaeh, come with me.” Quinn all but orders as they head towards the door, Nevaeh following like a puppy after her.

“I’m going on ahead, Edelweiss.” Quinn looks over their shoulder with a smile, snapping the fingers of their free hand. In a puff of smoke and sparkles, a fedora appears in their hands. Which was put on the explanation of the dress code as an acceptable addition. But this one had a blue band around it along with a similar looking gear piece to Quinn’s own hairpiece. “You forgot this.” 

“Oh! My bad.” She laughed and took the fedora, flipping it in her hands before putting it on her head as Quinn turned away from the dorm as he stepped out, “See ya!” 

Silence still hangs heavy between Heaven and Edelweiss until the two are completely out of sight. Edelweiss takes a deep breath once they are gone, the other students moving about and doing their business. “You good?” Heaven finally asked, looking back and down at Edelweiss. The rabbit gives a small nod, reaching up to smooth down the fur of her ears that was currently standing on end. 

“Yes, sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, that’s just how Quinn is.” 

Was it though? That seemed…so different than normal. After smoothing the fur down, she brings one hand up to her mouth as she thinks about the encounter. “Well...it might make sense if….”

“If?” Heaven questioned her, turning around to face her completely as she put her hands on her hips. “What’s up Ed?”

“Quinn didn’t want to do this theme.” Heaven nodded, remembering how they were one of the few people who wanted to reject the idea. “I didn’t tell you before but, he approached me in private to ask me not to do the theme, a few times in fact.”

“Really? She did?” Heaven blinked. “Why would Quinn be so adamant about not doing a mafia theme?”

“Well….” Edelweiss looked around for a moment before pulling on Heaven’s arm and leading her down to their side of the dorm - they get to the dining room and Edelweiss guides them both inside and shuts the door behind them. Their dorm wasn’t involved with making any food for the events, so it was empty in here, “Sorry just…didn't want to make these rumors worse.”

“What rumors?” Heaven blinked, clearly confused by this point. Edelweiss sighs and takes off her round glasses, rubbing at the bridge of her nose for a moment.

“There are a lot of rumors about Quinn, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Heaven nods - being in the same grade as Quinn probably meant that Heaven had heard a lot of the rumors, but especially because her twin sister kept hanging around them. “Well, one of the most damaging ones I’ve heard…..is that Quinn is from Underland.”

“Un-Underland?!” She says with a small gasp, “Isn’t that like, crime central?”

“It’s the organized crime capital of the world, yes.” Edelweiss says as she puts her glasses back on. “That city has the most organized crime families than anywhere in Twisted Wonderland, they pretty much run the place. The specific rumor is that Quinn is from one of those families….” As she trails off, she notices that Heaven’s face is getting red like hers did earlier.

“Shit.” Heaven breathes out before heading towards the door.

“Wait! Where are you-”

“I’m going to get Nev!” Heaven announced. Just as she was about to slam open the door though, Edelweiss grabs her wrist and pulls her back. 

“Calm down.”

“I’m not letting some crime freak-!” Heaven said, trying to pull her arm out of Edelweiss’s grip.

“LISTEN.” She said sternly, causing the older to falter. “It’s just a rumor, we don’t know if it’s true or not.” Heaven slowly started to calm down as she listened. “Besides, even if they were from there, hasn’t Quinn proven that they’re,  at least somewhat, a good person?” 

“Somewhat.” Heaven agrees in a huff, looking at the hand holding onto her. Edelweiss gets the message and releases her - Heaven staying put now that she was a little calmer.

“Besides, even if it was…” Edelweiss shook her head. “Why the hell is someone like that going to this kind of school?”

           ---------------------------------------------

“Are you sure it was okay?” Nevaeh finally asks after they have walked in silence towards the main school building. They were wondering when she would finally ask. “I mean, that is one of your old outfits….”

“But it’s perfect for the part, no?” Quinn chuckled, opening up the fan again, mostly just for effect as they passed by people who stared. They cover their mouth with it and hums. “Besides Nevaeh…. I’m not one to be afraid of my past.”

“....” Nevaeh could only stare in awe, and maybe a bit of confusion, before she laughed and adjusted her hat. “Well, if you say so, Boss.”

“Good gods, that brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Quinn laughed behind her fan, looking off into the distance. “Feels like just yesterday you were calling me that while helping my family move contraband through the gates. You weren’t even a part of the family.”

“ ‘ey, my ‘rents said t’ be nice t’ ya, so I was.” 

“Yes...yes you very much were.” Quinn stopped in their steps, Nevaeh stopping a bit after them, looking back with a confused look. “I never thanked you for all of that kindness, did I?”

Nevaeh blinked before smiling, grabbing Quinn’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Y’ let me run ‘way w’h ya, that’s bout the best thanks ya coulda giv’n me.” 

Quinn chuckles softly, still hiding their lips before their fan. “Your accent is coming out.”

“Eh, let it, it’ll help with th’ ‘ffect, ya know?” 

“Sure, Sure. Now let’s go, before we’re actually late.” With that, the leader and their henchmen went to rule the night. 

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 3

A/N: Hey guys, just trying my hand out at this fanfic thing. I love reading everyone’s stuff and decided to write something myself. I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips or suggestions are highly appreciated. Let me know if y’all like it and would like me to continue. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word count: 1.9k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

16 years ago

It was a slow night. Dean had been scouting out players for half an hour, but no one seemed to be in the gambling mood. Finally giving up, he walked up to the bar, ordered a beer and started to look around. If he couldn’t get money, he could at least get lucky.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean softly swore under his breath, a smirk appearing on his face as he walked towards his target, sitting in the corner of the bar. He didn’t know how he missed it, missed her. What he did know was that his night was about to get a hell of a lot better.

“If it isn’t little Sandy L/N,” Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face as he walked towards her table and paused in front of her, “Always late to the party L/N.”

Sandra looked at Dean with the complete opposite expression. Her usually stoic face was pulled into a scowl as she registered what the hunter was saying.

“You got the werewolf.”

“I got the werewolf,” Dean reiterated, causing Sandra’s frown to deepen. She’d driven for over 8 hours for this hunt.

“Don’t be so mad Sandy, after all, the wolf is dead and it looks like both of us have some free time on our hands now.” Dean’s suggestion wasn’t subtle at all. He made a show of looking at her from head to toe and wriggled his eyebrows playfully.

Sandra sighed. Dean was 5 years younger than her but they always seemed to have a good time. Both parties knew that it was just sex and that was the way she preferred it, but Dean had also just ruined her hunt and she was tempted to turn him down. Looking at him again though, she reconsidered. Angry sex was tempting too.

“Buy me a drink and we’ll see.” That was basically Sandy-talk for ‘Yes, we can have sex but I’m not gonna make it easy for you, asshole’ and Dean knew it.

All in all, it was a fun night. And morning. And afternoon. She left that evening and that was the last time he’d heard from her. After that, he thought about her from time to time but she never did like giving her number to other hunters. Then John disappeared, Jess dies and the world went to shit.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about her. Until now.

 Present

Dean was too lost in his memory to realise that Sam had been calling his name for a few minutes. Y/N looked at Dean suspiciously. Dean’s reaction to her mother’s name confused her. As far as she knew, her mother didn’t know the Winchesters. She had even warned Y/N on several occasions about the dangers of mixing with the Winchesters. Sandra wasn’t one to mince words, and she didn’t have anything good to say about the infamous hunters. If she had known them, she surely would have told Y/N. The woman had loved to brag.

“Sandy’s dead?” he whispered softly.

So, needless to say she was completely blindsided with Dean’s reaction. He almost sounded … sad, which was weird because her mother wasn’t a person who usually invoked that emotion in people. Anger – yes, frustration – sure. But sadness? Because of her death?

“You knew my mother.” It wasn’t a question but Dean answered anyway.

“Yeah. We were … friends? Sort of.” Dean swore softly under his breath, processing the new information.

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Wait a minute. She didn’t have a kid the last time I saw her. She was in town alone, on a case. She stayed with me for almost a day.”

Sam’s brain started working in over drive.

“How long ago was this?” he asked his brother.

“15? 16 years ago?”

Sam looked at Y/N, jaw clenching just for a second.

“Y/N? How old are you exactly?”

Shit, Y/N thought. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

She entertained the idea of lying but discarded it immediately. Dean was now analysing her, looking for clues most likely. She sighed and reluctantly mumbled the answer.

“You’re gonna have to be louder than that sweetheart.”

“15, alright? I’m fifteen.”

The reaction was almost immediate. Both of them were looking at her incredulously and swearing like sailors.

“Jesus kid! What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” Dean was almost yelling at her, berating her for hunting at such a young age, which she thought was a little hypocritical but go off, I guess.

In the middle of all the commotion, Y/N suddenly realised that there was only one voice yelling. Sam was looking at her intensely, taking in every detail, a peculiar look on his face. Before she could ask him what the hell was wrong with him, he softly called out to Dean.

He was still yelling so Sam called out again.

“Dean!” Finally, Dean stopped, turning towards Sam. Before he could say anything, Sam started talking.

“How long ago did you say you last saw Sandra?” Sam had an urgency in his tone that confused the hell out of Y/N. She couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

Dean paused at Sam’s question.

“About 16 years, why?”

Sam just looked at his brother meaningfully, further confusing Y/N. Apparently, Dean saw where Sam was going with this.

“Oh, hell no! Fuck. No! You’re crazy,” Dean scoffed.

Sam just glared at him. “So, you’re saying you two didn’t?”

“Of course, we did Sammy! But, I’m not an idiot! We used protection.”

Protection?

“Woah, woah, woah! Rewind an-and freeze! Protection? You slept with my mother?” Y/N’s voice grew shriller towards the end of the sentence, making Dean wince and look away in embarrassment.

“That’s gross. I did not need that image in my head!”

She started pacing the small room. Suddenly she came to a stop.

“Wait, why is this relevant anyway?”

Sam glanced at Dean again, who started shaking his head fervently.

“Dude, stop it. I don’t know what is wrong with your brain, maybe you have a concussion but you need to quit this line of thinking right now. You’re freaking me the fuck out,” Dean snarled.

Realisation hit Y/N like a tonne of bricks. What Sam was insinuating, why the timing was important.

“You think Dean is my father?!” It was her turn to look at Sam incredulously. She started laughing. She couldn’t help it. The idea that Dean Winchester was her father was hilarious.

“You said you never knew your dad,” Sam pointed out, ignoring her cackling.

“So? That doesn’t automatically mean Dean is my father Sam, geez.”

“You also said that he was a hunter,” Sam was determined to at least get them to consider the possibility.

“There are a lot of hunters out there!” Y/N was almost hyperventilating at this point. It was too much. Too soon.

“Sammy, shut up,” Dean said firmly. This was not the time for this. Y/N was clearly overwhelmed. Sam noticed and a flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

“Look, all I’m saying is that there is a very real possibility that you two are related. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll back off, alright? Tell me you don’t see it,” Sam said, softly this time. Dean looked at Y/N. She did look like him, or maybe he was imagining things that weren’t there. Maybe it was just a coincidence and he was investing himself into this for no reason, but he had to know. Now that there was a seed of doubt in his head, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got a real answer.

“Y/N,” Dean called her softly, “look kid, I’m not saying I’m your father. God knows I don’t know how to be one. But I know that you see the coincidences piling up too. Why don’t we figure this out and if Sammy is wrong, we can laugh in his face about all this. And if he isn’t … well we’ll deal with that too.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, both brothers holding their breath.

“I don’t care,” she snaps, “I have survived without a family my whole life. I don’t need a father. I don’t want a father. Family is poison and I don’t want any part of it. So, I couldn’t care less about biology. I don’t want to know.”

She goes to storm out of the room, barely able to look at the hurt expression on their faces. Before she can reach the for the handle, Dean’s voice booms through the room.

“Well I do. I need to know if I have a damn daughter who I failed. I need to figure this out or I’m gonna go crazy. So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna get a damn paternity test and put a lid in this argument until we do. But before all that, we’re gonna come back to the fact that you’ve apparently been hunting alone for the past four years. Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is? Me and Sam, we’ve been doing this for years, but we still always take back-up! Because hunting alone is dangerous, and reckless, specially for someone who is new to the field. I’m not gonna berate you for your age, God knows I was younger than you when I first started. Its shitty but it happens. But even I was never dumb enough to hunt alone.”

Y/N was getting a whiplash from the change in the conversation. One minute they’re demanding paternity tests, and the next they’re yelling at her about her life choices.

“First of all, we aren’t getting any tests done because one, I’m in the system and you’re supposed to either be dead or are wanted by the FBI, and two, I don’t want to! And you don’t get to dictate how I live my life. You’re barely an acquaintance, not even a friend. So back the fuck off.”

She knew she was being harsh. But she needed them away from her, out of her life. They represented hope – hope for a safe haven, hope for a family, and she didn’t want any part of it. It was better to be alone than set yourself up for more pain.

Dean was quickly losing his patience.

“Look, you have 2 options. You can either come with us and we can figure all this out, at your pace, or I can give Jody a call and she can arrange for you to live with her. She’s already fostering 3 girls and she’d be happy to take you in. You won’t be able to run away from there either, which is great.”

She glared at him.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make us angry so that we abandon you. I know all the tricks in the book kiddo, you ain’t fooling me that easily. I don’t know if I’m actually your father but I’ll be damned if I let you go off on your own again. You can either come with us or go to Jody. Choice is yours.”

With that, Dean stormed off to search for a bar. It had been a long day and he needed a damn beer.

Chapter 4 

TAGS:  @vicmc624​ @buttercookiemachoman​  @carisi-sonny​ @link--in--bio

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

[felswritingfire]

Hey, everyone!

Have some housamo dad hcs that no one asked for! This guys kind of a monster (7978 big) so it goes under the read more. I just,,,, I really like domestic parent hcs ajlskfjlksdj

I kept the kids older years vague and just kept to biological gender because I didn’t want to complicate anything, if that makes sense, just give a little personality to the kiddo/kiddos but mostly focus on the dads, you know? Anyway Enjoy!

(Also so much thanks to @summonerscenarios for helping me with some of these and reading the beta, much love!!)

(Reader is gender neutral btw)

Arsalan

OIL DAD- OIL DAD-

He’d probs have one and then ask for two more- a weird lion thing you know? So, under the assumption that you’re A) down to give birth to three or B) end up adopting three kiddos, he’d most likely end up with two girls (both a year apart from each other) and a boy (who’s three years younger than the middle girl, making him the youngest and gentlest out of his sisters)

He honestly has a bit of a “Oh shit” moment when you guys gain a kid by either a series of events or you getting pregnant, he’s lowkey freaking out

He’s never had a kid before, I mean, sure, he’s been a role model to young people for a long time, but it’s not like he’s had to raise them from when they were in diapers; and honestly, he has this vague wondering if he’s even too old to be a dad- but then she looks into his eyes and it’s like all his worries wash away and then he’s thinking out loud: “if one can do this to me, Y/N, what do you think five more would do?” 

You’ve never seen him so happy and you’re almost sad when you have to shut him down. Almost. “We’re not having six children, Arsalan.”

                       “Ok, what about two more then?”                        “Arsalan.” 

Jokes on you, Y/N, you have two more.

He’s super involved with all of the babies, like, there isn’t a time where Arsalan isn’t seen with them when they’re babies, since the girls are older than their brother, they were with their papa while he was with their baby brother- btw, despite them being four and three respectively, they still loved him to death- and there wasn’t a time when he wasn’t holding or touching them when they were babies

OH! He doesn’t wear any oil when he’s holding them! Since he almost shit a brick one of the times he was holding your oldest girl because he almost dropped her. His hands were so fucking oily because he just finished a riviting round of ✨Turkish Oil Wrestling✨, that he ended up flailing with her like a melted stick of butter in his hands until he managed to get her into the crook of his arm (she was giggling the entire time). Never again. He learned his lesson the first (and last) time. 

Btw, you weren’t there for that, but if he ever looks at you with guilty eyes you know why

He hates diaper duty with a passion and will vehemently try to get out of it. Though, he’ll do it if you really can’t and he’ll silently accept his fate, even the girls will steer clear when he has to change their brother’s diaper. A lonely soldier left to his fate

He baby talks to them when they’re babies, like, straight up, every one of the kids gets baby talked 

No and’s, if’s, or but’s. They get the baby talk

The girls help you guys out a lot with their little brother, or at least they try their best and that’s all that matters. It’s actually really heartwarming??? They’re so attached to this little bundle in your arms, they love him so much

The two girls weren’t fussy babies, but they were very curious, and they kept that curiosity for their entire lives, so they would get into a lot of things that would cause you and Arslan to panic, while their brother was a little angel, he was very quiet and he rarely cried. Though, he didn’t like when you or Arsalan were away for too long, this was a problem for when you guys needed a babysitter for them, not with the girls though, oh no, they love everyone in the Aoyama Guild, especially Maria and Gabriel (the middle one might have a crush on her, but who knows 💅💅). But your guys’ little boy is a whole other story. He’ll start crying and none of them can calm him down, their only saving grace is surprisingly Nyarl. Which Arsalan dislikes with an immense passion

He’s so afraid Nyal’s going to feed his kids to some eldritch horror or teach them bad habits- *GASP* WHAT HAPPENS IF HE TEACHES HIS LITTLE BOY HOW TO SAY FUCK??? OH NO-

He has entrusted the girls with keeping Nyarl in check and the hyena actually listens to them (of course Maria or Zab is there to keep him in check too, they just don’t let the girls know that they’re actually the ones giving Nyarl The Look behind them)

When they’re toddlers, Arsalan starts teaching them strategy and starts wrestling with them so that they can know how to defend themselves with different fighting techniques 

You know that thing that papa lions do where they’ll feign getting hurt when their cubs bite them to build their confidence??? Yeah, he does that with the little ones. The girls are all proud of themselves each time they manage to “beat” their papa, but your little boy is devastated the first time it happened because he thought he actually hurt Papa Arsalan and he started crying and was too afraid to touch anyone for a good two days before Arsalan managed to convince him that he was perfectly fine and the way for him not to hurt someone is to embrace his strength and learn how to use it for good! Luckly, your little boy accepts the answer and goes over and gives his papa a big hug and Arsalan gives him a big ol’ kiss on the forehead

You still have the video- it’s cute- you’re never getting rid of it

Arsalan definitely takes them to the guild and everyone LOVES THEM

The girls get along best with the angels, the more aggressive ones specifically while your little boy gets along best with the healers of the guild; they listen to all of the stories that anyone is willing to share with them and they LIVE FOR THEM

They all swear up and down that they’re gonna join the Aoyama guild when they get older and protect their dad and Arsalan tears up

They MEET (officially) ZABANIYYA AND YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN MORE STARSTRUCK CHILDREN IN YOU LIFE (He met them when they were babies, but he was always too busy to actually swing by and say hello to the little ones frequently)

They think he’s so cool and he feels a little awkward around them, but he’s accepted his fate as Uncle Zab

By the time they hit their tween years, Arsalan is more in his element, he’s an amazing listener, and coupled with the fact that his advice is some A++ shit, his kids feel at ease telling him their woes. Also he’s always open with his affection so if they need a hug, he’s there for that too!

The girls, at this time, are much more similar to Arsalan, their brother on the other hand is very shy, so they take it upon themselves to act as “bodyguards” for their little brother

Your guys’ kids in general are pretty independent, so they’re pretty self aware of themselves; Arsalan made sure of that, especially since he was in the mindset of “making capable kings and queens”- he was a king after all

The girls would go into sports, something like volleyball or softball, while your boy would take up a lot of writing/medical classes in high- if he has the opportunity, he’d probably go into a philosophy class

Your guys’ oldest girl has a bit of a problem with butting heads with people, she’s opinionated and backs them up with facts, she knows what she believes in and will defend it, so she’ll get into the occasional fight

Your middle girl is your social butterfly and gets along with everybody; she’s super sweet, but she has a temper and strong sense of justice which gets her into trouble every now and then

They both team up to take care of their little brother, it’s actually really cute to watch them 

Your boy is the peace keeper of the group; he’s very passive and fights with his words rather than his fists, but he really wants to go into the medical field 

HAVE FUN DEALING WITH THE FACT THAT THEY ALL GET INTO SHIT LIKE THEIR DAD. You and Arsalan had to go and convince the Tycoons not to hang your oldest by her toes because she punched Ophion straight in the jaw and suplexed Lucifuge (Hakuman was having an amazing time- the other two were not)

When they graduate, Arsalan doesn’t cry, but it’s still super evident that he’s proud of his kids, each one gets a huge ass bear (lion) hug that squeezes the breath out of them

He may be a little shocked at first, but he takes it in stride like everything else in his life; he marvels at the way that your guys’ kiddos grow up so fast. Honestly, having a family was one of the best experiences of his life.

Ifrit

I like to imagine that Ifirt would end up with more than one kid with you, being that if you can actually have a baby/babies or if you guys adopt, he’ll want one right after the other, but only if you’re comfortable with that.

We’re going with the route that you’re comfy with having/adopting at least two children:

He’d probs end up having two little boys that are two years apart.

When you guys bring home your first little boy, Ifrit is a mess of tears and snot and he gives you the wettest and biggest smooch he possibly can on your lips. He’s always wanted a big family (but he was afraid he would never be able to really start one because of his debt until you came along and, thanks to your more skeptical nature and eye for seeing through scams, he finally got financially stable!) and now it’s the start of one and he’s so excited! 

SPOILER ALERT, HIS KIDS ARE EXACTLY LIKE HIM.

They are rambunctious little babies and are loud just like their father; I’m so sorry.

Speaking of loud- Ifrit does not help with the volume- if anything, he amplifies them; riling up the boys when he plays with them.

When he does play with the boys, he’s super soft about it with them. He’ll go down easily for them and play dead when they play any sort of game that includes a big scary monster.

 The first time he did play dead, his boys started crying and then he started crying after he couldn’t get them to calm down because he was overwhelmed with so much emotion for accidentally making his kids cry- you walked in on the three of them, with groceries lining your arms, cuddled up together on the floor crying their hearts out.

IFRIT DRESSES UP HIS BABIES IN MATCHING OUTFITS TO HIM-THEY’RE LITTLE ROCKSTAR BABIES

IT’S SOFT SHIT

YOUR EYES? BLESSED

YOUR HEART? STOLEN

IFRIT? BEST DAD

UM, HAVE YOU EVER REALIZED THAT IFRIT HAS A TAIL???? (because I sure as hell didn’t, but no surprise there I’m blind-) YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS:

BABIES KOALA CLINGING TO HIS TAIL

LIKE, CAN YOU IMAGINE THEM JUST HOLDING ON WHILE HE TIDIES UP THE HOUSE WHILE THEY’RE GIGGLING AND TEETHING ON THE SPIKES OF HIS TAIL????

He was a tad nervous when they first started doing this because he realized that he’s a pretty loud and expressive person, so he didn’t want to accidentally knock one of the boys off when he was super excited or he got angry; after you assured him that he was in fact, not going to hurt the boys, he started letting them cling to his tail. And, hey, you were right. He has never once knocked the boys off since, despite his excitable nature, his tail keeps relatively still when he feels the boys on there

Speaking of tails, if any of the boys ends up having tails or horns or fangs like him (especially if they’re biologically his and they get hit with all three), he’ll have you guys invest in a lot of… chew toys for dogs and scratching posts for cats

                    “Why are we getting dog toys for our kid again, Ifrit?”                     “One fucking word, babe, growing pains”                     “That’s two words-”                     “YOU GET WHAT I MEAN.”

Um, I’m so sorry if you wanted your kid’s first words to be “mama/papa/nano” (I read on reddit that’s a gender neutral term for parent, but like, real talk, if you have any other ones, just hit me up and tell me! I love learning new stuff in the LGBTQ+ community!) you ain’t gonna get it chief. It’s gonna be a cuss word because, let’s be frank Ifrit’s got a potty mouth from Hell (me too, man) and it isn’t going away anytime soon

So your kids are most likely gonna be cussing like sailors by the time they get into middle school/high school 

Ifrit is a pretty great multitasker in general, the other bonus is that he’s not afraid to change diapers, so when the boys were babies he was always ready to go when you needed a break

Just let him slap a clothing pin or shove a couple tissues up his nose and he is ready to go, babe

The kids usually cling to him, though, I feel the younger of the two would cling to you more so than Papa Ifrit, while the older one is attached to Ifrit: he copies everything that Ifrit does and is basically a carbon copy of him personality wise

It was kinda hard to convince them to let you guys go out for date night, but they’re super attached to Ebisu and Fenrir, and then Auntie Benten comes and tuckers them out since she has the same amount of energy as the little balls of chaos. So you guys usually call on them to come and watch the babies; once in a while Ahab and Aegir will join and the boys L O V E THEM (you two are honestly a little jealous tbh)

Ebisu is in charge though. Ebisu is always in charge

He’s a little lost in the tween years, but he figures it out pretty fast, luckily, your kids are pretty easy going and simple minded like Ifrit, albeit more aware of their surroundings since you beat it into their heads since you and Ifrit wanted to avoid some punks taking advantage of your kiddos, so they’re pretty straightforward in their thinking- though, your older boy has a hard time handling his emotions, while the younger boy has a hard time expressing his emotions, so you both have to take your time with them and talk it through with them and see how they’re feeling and to understand their problems. Which really isn’t that big of a problem for Ifrit, he’s a good listener and it’s easy for the boys to express themselves around him because, hey, he gets it. He usually let’s his anger control his decision so, he gets it, man

ONE THING THAT HAS ALWAYS CALMED HIS KIDS DOWN IS IFRIT’S FIRE TRICKS AND THIS STICKS WITH THEM THROUGHOUT THEIR LIVES

THEY LIVE FOR THAT SHIT

One thing that Ifrit never taught them, and you don’t know where they got it from, if they have horns, they’ll headbutt each other

This has lead to Ifrit, more than once, having to come and untangle their horns, due to the fact that he’s the only one who knows how horns work, because they got locked together, especially if they have Ifrit’s horns (also thank you Juno for giving me this headcanon, I love you-)

If you two ever hear frustrated yelling, you know exactly what’s happening and Ifrit sighs as he gets up while yelling, “again?”

Teenage years are actually quite chill, the boys don’t really go through that phase where nothing feels right or they’re embarrassed of their parents- they’re comfy in their skin and Ifrit and you provide a solid and understanding home for them, so they actually have the tendency to brag about you guys to other people- especially your oldest

What does cause a lot of problems, even when they were little, is fighting

The boys tend to throw themselves head first into fights because A) they have their papa’s temper and B) they can’t stand bullies

So they kinda act as the designated “Protectors of the Weak” if you will and usually it doesn’t end in a fight, their sheer volume and confidence usually makes people back off pretty quick, and if they’re biologically Ifrit’s, then, like, they also have the height and build along with them- or if they were adopted and they had big ass parents, it goes either way

But when they get into a fight- they throw down H A R D. T O G E T H E R

So, once in a while you two get calls to come and pick up the boys, since they got into another skirmish again with that Billy kid- 

Honestly, the first time it happened, Ifrit was pissed because, what the fuck you two? And then he got their side of the story (because of course he would, he’s a GOOD DAD) and he was like, “WELL, FUCK, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE MAD NOW??” So instead, he goes and gets them ice cream every time they get into a fight because he knows your boys would never start a fight unless absolutely necessary. Also they beat up a bunch of bullies HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT PROUD? HE RAISED THEM RIGHT

This might be one of the only serious arguments you ever have if you’re against the boys fighting at all (but like, I wouldn’t, they beat up bullies. FUCK BULLIES)

When your sons graduate from High school, Ifrit will cry at each of their ceremonies. Full blown sobbing- he’s so proud of his boys and he’s so ready to see what they make of themselves. 

Ifrit dad rating: 10/10, he’s amazing, please let him be a dad; he’s really matured from his younger days, especially now that he has kids. Being in a family with you has really made his life complete

Ophion

Ophion, to no one’s surprise, has a lot of experience under his belt. At least we would presume, but plot twist: this dragon is used to dealing with older creations rather than little baby ones. Not to say he doesn’t  have any experience with babies, he’s just… used to his kids being independent on their own. It’s a luxury when you got an egg that pops out Wyvern children who are fully developed left and right

He is totally down for babies tho, please, he actually really likes kids a lot and, when he was the older version of himself, he’d try to covertly play with them out in public if he’s with the Tycoons for whatever reason (they knew. They fucking knew what he did, none of them told him jack shit because Hakuman does the same exact thing and Lucifuge thinks his buddy is adorable when he plays with the babies, so like shit he’s gonna say anything. And Licht holds onto this as blackmail, just in case Ophion decides to really piss him off), younger Ophion gives zero shits about playing with babies in front of the Tycoons. He loves hearing babies laugh, so he’ll make some cool ass light tricks and babies and toddlers alike are in awe

Also, he has this tendency to try to give kids life advice and teach them philosophy that their little heads just do not comprehend, but they think he’s the coolest thing to ever exist so they just nod along and pretend they understand (he knows they don’t he just thinks they’re adorable 

He’d try to convince you to have a horde of children; it’s up to you to talk him down because, holy shit, Ophion we are not repopulating a planet. That’s a lot of kids to take care of-

You manage to talk him down to having two and seeing how it goes from there

Plot twist y’all end up with four children: split even boys and girls

Ok, so, I apologize but I’m gonna be drifting away from the gender neutral territory for a hot minute because, like, Juno pointed this out:

Giving birth to Ophion’s baby would be a nightmare: Ophion is a big dude, if I remember right he’s 6’10”, that’s huge if you didn’t know, can you imagine how big that baby is gonna be inside of you???? And the other thing- if they have any draconic characteristics then, like, have fun pushing out a baby with wings, my dude. So it’s either: pray that the little guy is baby baby sized or C-Section

Which is fine- you have options, so that works out great! Double bonus, you never have to worry about medical bills because Ophion is fucking LOADED; TRIPLE BONUS, SINCE OPHION IS LOADED YOU WOULD BE PAMPARED HALF TO DEATH AFTER THE ENTIRE DEBACLE

SPEAKING OF LOADED, your babies have all of the best shit ever since they were born into a rich family.

I’m talking about gucci onesies all the plushies they can imagine

Now, you might be thinking: shit. That means I have to be the tough parent.

Not necessarily

Ophion is particular about how he wants his kids to be raised up: he wants them to be smart and aware, not spoiled and useless. He honestly expects some sort of perfection out of them since, you know, the whole mindset of: well, they’re my children. Of course they have to be perfect

Which, no, bad Ophion. We don’t hold our children to unrealistic standards in this house, it’s up to you to knock him off his high horse. The good part is that he’ll listen to you and actually reflect on his expectations for his kids, he’ll even work on taking said expectations down a couple of notches which is great. 

You’ll probs still have to remind him once in a while, but he’s pretty good at chilling the fuck out when he needs to

Your kids go in the order of girl, boy, girl, boy; all of them a year or two apart, because of course

The first baby was a very rambunctious baby and Ophion threatened to chuck her out the window more than once- IN THE MOST LOVING WAY HE POSSIBLY COULD, I SWEAR- when she’d wake up crying in the middle of the night, because then he’d come and get her and she’d immediately start giggling and trying to grab his finger

He could never stay mad her and he’d end up staying up and rocking her until she fell back asleep 

The crib was barely used for your guys’ second and third baby- they were both easy babies for the most part, only really making a peep when they were away from one of you. Your boy was quite attached to you while the second girl was attached to Ophion; but your oldest girl and boy’s rooms weren’t really used until they each turned five respectively because they’d just climb into bed with you guys and set their younger sibling in between them- these were some of Ophion’s favorite moments tbh. It was so soft and gentle, it soothes his soul when he thinks about it

Your youngest was another rambunctious baby, not in the sense that he cried a lot, but in the sense that he was very… He had a knack for getting into things that shouldn’t have been possible

Like, you, Ophion, and your eldest daughter almost shit when you found your baby boy on top of the counter; no one put him there- you set him down for two minutes- but there he was, giggling as he crawled all over the polished countertops 

Also, PS: each of the babies has their own designated “nanny Wyvern” that takes care of them, but they’re more like, just huge ass guard dogs because they’ll try to make the babies a bottle of milk and it just… it does not work out so well, because sharp claws and microwaves don’t mix as you’ve come to learn

All the wyvern’s love your kids to death tho, they’d die for them. Nobody touches the babies unless they want to get fucking mauled to death by a thousand basically siblings

Each of the babies has gone with him on business meetings with the Tycoons, not that he was very thrilled- Ophion is quite the possessive dragon when it comes to his family- but you needed the load off, especially when you guys have four kids running around? Yeah. He isn’t gonna let you deal with that responsibility alone. 

So he brings them and the Tycoons were a little hesitant about the kids at first because, I mean, they’re Ophion’s kids, they have to be prideful little shits right?

Lucky for them, you keep what Ophion rubs off on his kids in check- especially the pride shit

So, turns out, that your kids are really sweet, maybe a little too confident, but sweet to everyone, and, surprisingly, Ophion’s kinda stickler for manners so they know how to behave themselves

BUT HOLY SHIT DO THEY LOVE GYUMAO????

YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY OR HOW- BUT THE KIDS ARE LIKE???? COW MAN IS BEST MAN

Ophion is lowkey pissed about it because those are his babies, fuck you, Gyumao

But you’re jumping for joy because um? Babysitter who is legit big enough to handle all of the kiddos in one room???? YES PLEASE

The second oldest really likes Lucifuge and will ask if he can comb his hair and Luci always says yes and convinces the kids to call him Uncle Luci; Ophion also hates this

Hakumen is honorary Auntie, they love her to death, especially the two youngest ones, and she likes to spoil them to piss of Ophion

The youngest really likes Licht and Melusine (all the kids are in agreement that Mel is super pretty and the oldest always asks her if she can hold her tail)

When your kids become toddlers, they’re all curious little things and like to hang around Papa and watch what he’s doing 

They’ll try to mimic him, so you’ve walked into a room and witnessed Ophion standing there looking over Tokyo majestically with a wine glass in his hand and all four of your kiddos lined up next to him trying to mimic him, all with their own respective juice cups (youngest to oldest, all trying to look like their papa??? It’s some soft shit and I will forever love Juno for adding and making this scene even cuter)

IF- IF HIS KIDS HAVE WINGS- WATCHING HIM TEACH THEM HOW TO FLY IS THE MOST WHOLESOME THING?????

He’s got a surprising amount of patience with them, so if they're scared to jump off the top of the couch, he’ll reassure them that he’s there and he would never, ever let them fall- and when they do jump? He catches them and praises them for being so brave and it’s just- *cries*

He’ll also take them out on flies so they can get used to the feeling of the wind on their faces and under their wings; they all get super excited if he does a cool twist in the air with them or something like that

The wyverns are usually out and about with them too, so they get two comfort buddies for the price of one fly!

Like with Ifrit, this dude has a tail, so the kiddos will grab onto it, and if they have tails, they’ll make a train of them holding onto each other’s tails as Ophion walks around the house or the Tower- everyone almost dies, because???? That shit cute.

You have so many photos of them doing this

Once your youngest girl fell asleep on his tail while he walked around and you almost died

When they hit their tween years, since they are confident kiddos, especially your two eldest, they have a tendency to push back with Ophion. And Ophion really doesn’t mind? 

He views it as them developing a true identity for themselves, but if they ever cross a line, pray for the kiddos, because he will put the fear of a god in them. He’s very scary angry

It’s even scarier because he doesn’t lift a finger, it’s just a look. A hard, narrowed, disappointed look. It shuts them up real fast

They don’t fight with you though. They’d never fight with you lmao they love you too much

Your two youngest are relatively easy because they don’t have as dominating personalities as their big sister and brother do. So they’ll still stick close to Ophion and listen to what he has to say

You’re eldest ones have an easier time talking to you about their problems while the little ones go to their papa

Though from time to time they’ll talk to the Wyvern that they grew up closest to and rant to them, all the while said Wyvern is squawking and cooing at them in understanding 

In their teenage years, they’ve been humbled a bit by their experiences, so they’re not as.... Over the top. They’re still dramatic tho

Honestly, they’d probs all go into theater. AND THEY’D BE INCREDIBLY GOOD AT IT

And Ophion would obviously brag about this because of course his offspring are amazing at anything they do

Your oldest girl is probably going to play a sport, probably swimming unless she has wings then she’d most likely play something like Lacrosse; you’re eldest boy would probably really into fashion because of Lucifuge so he’d take any fashion classes he could get his hands on; your youngest girl would be into business, courtesy of Auntie Haku and Uncle GyuGyu; and your youngest would most likely stick to theater and the arts; he fell in love with acting and I have this hc that Ophion is really into art in his spare time (especially since, hello- Old Greek God, where do you think they learned it from???) so he runs with the talent he has and just floors it

They all end up kinda, lowkey, running the school, their personalities just cause them to be natural leaders

When they finally graduate highschool, Ophion, if they can’t fly, will take them in his arms after the ceremony and they’ll fly around Tokyo just talking about everything and anything; if they can fly they’re doing the same thing, just instead they’re both doing kick ass tricks in the air! Either way, Ophion is proud and there’s the Wyvern they were closest to crying and nuzzling them because their basically little sib is all grown up

Ophion would kill for a big family with you and he’s such a good papa??? He’s naturally a good dad, it’s a little freaky- but he has so much fun raising this family. He holds all the memories he’s had with you and them close to his heart

Tadatomo

Tadatomo and you would probably have one baby in general, a little girl who’s very bubbly- though if you wanted a bigger family, Tada isn’t opposed to the idea

I feel like with Tada the baby, if you have the ability to have children- Hell, even if you don’t have the ability to have a child- you two still probably end up with having a surprise kiddo: they probably wind up being placed in front of your guys’ door by some random person-

Long story short, he freaks out

He definitely doesn’t know how to take care of a baby- he can barely take care of himself- Y/N, what does he do? Please-

It takes a lot of google searching, Youtube videos and phone calls to get Tada to calm down about the baby

After he gathers his bearings, he actually steps up to the plate pretty easily

Except for diapers, I’m so sorry, but you’re on your own for diapers. He’ll get you the stuff and everything, but, he just,,, He can not handle the smell

You guys don’t ever get a crib, if anything someone else gets you said crib (probably Mori) but you guys never use it because Tada places the baby between the both of you when you two go to sleep and, since he’s such a light sleeper, he’s usually the one to tell when she needs something before she even makes a peep

Not that I think she makes a lot of noise in the first place aside for her laughing- she’s just a happy and easy baby in general

Btw, Tada totally shed a tear when she laughed for the first time, he’ll never admit it but she gives him so much L I F E

He lets her play with his ears/tail, doesn’t matter if she pulls on them (which she doesn’t, she’s a gentle baby) no matter what time or place. He could be threatening someone with a knife and she’d be playing with his ears and everyone is like????? That’s kinda cute????   

He binge watches Naruto with his baby despite them not knowing what the fuck is going on and even gets them an Uchiha onsie because obviously Sasuke and Itachi are the bast characters in Naruto and no, he doesn’t take constructive criticism, thank you very much

He probably tries to convince you to name her after Tsunade, it’s up to you if

 you’re willing to go with it

(you’re kid probs has a hardcore anime phase in middles school and Tada and Shino NEVER LET HER LIVE IT DOWN)

For someone who was terrified of babies at first, he takes baby proofing the house/apartement very seriously; you’ll honestly have to stop him- he’s going crazy:

                 “Tada, for the last time, you don’t need to sand down the corners of the wall.”                  “But what if she runs into it?”                  “Tadatomo Inuyama, if you don’t put down that sander, I will have your head.”

You’ll sometimes wake up in the middle of the night just to find your baby isn’t there, it almost gave you a heart attack the first time because, I mean, HOLY SHIT WHERE’S YOUR BABY???

But when you look over and see Tada resting with her by the window and humming/singing her a little lullaby- your heart has never been more ready to burst in your life

Moritaka and Shino are the main babysitters, she absolutely adores Mori to death and Tada feels a sense of betrayal everytime she clings to him 

Moritaka has so many mixed emotions about it because on one hand: !!! My favorite basically niece! But on the other hand, Tadatomo has been glaring at the back of his head for the past 30 minutes, please, help him-

Shino also spoils her a teeny bit and Mori and Tada will stare at him with wide eyes, like, “dad, WHERE’S MY HUG???”

He starts her training early, because you know he wants his little girl to be able to take care of herself if he isn’t there to protect her, which, that’s not gonna happen, Tada will kill an entire city, don’t test him (also Mori and Shino and you’ll be there and like, nobody wants to open that can of fucking worms)

She’s clumsy at first, but she’s a really fast learner and he cannot be more proud when she starts to pick up stuff, he almost starts crying but, again, denies it if you try to bring it up

If she ends up having fangs of any kind, he will, like Ifrit, invest in chew toys as well, because have you seen puppies when they teeth??? It’s chaos, you will lose so much furniture that way, let me tell you

She develops a really good sense of balance, so it’s a fight to get her to stop breaking into the snack cupboard when she wants a treat; she’ll give it up without a fight, but she will break in again if you don’t watch it

She’s a pretty big ball of sunshine so she makes a lot of friends and invites them over; they all think Tada’s super scary because he’s glowering at them, if you tell them that that’s just how his face is, he’ll be mildly offended, but then you also throw in the fact that he’s a super cool ninja and then the kids are all over the poor transient 

He’s in heaven, but he won’t tell you that. Your guys’ daughter is all too happy to tell you guys all about how people think she has the coolest parents in school

Despite him teaching her how to fight, he’s a bit of a helicopter parent, especially when her tween/teenage years roll around

She’s a pretty easy kid in her tween years too, though Tada has a heart attack when puberty hits her and Aunt Ruby comes a knocking and he calls up Shino of all people to explain it to her, which he does, you’re honestly a little shocked when you get home and you see Shino with a whole powerpoint slide explaining in excruciating detail what a period is to your horrified daughter and your, as equally horrified, husband

He gets her everything she needs or asks you to get it if he can’t BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE GOOD PARENTS

Tadatomo isn’t the best with emotions so he’s shit with advice, but he’s a really good listener. So, sometimes your kid will just info dump to him about everything that’s bothering her 

When she starts getting into the dating scene Tada HATES IT

He’s always glowering at the partner she brought home because he already hates them, he wants them to go away. She’s his little Shinobi- DON’T TOUCH HIS LITTLE SHINOBI-

You have to be the one to calm him down tbh because he will kill a child with zero hesitation 

Her teenage years are also pretty easy, she’s a rather laid back and optimistic kid and she has a solid relationship with both you and her papa so she doesn’t really have a lot of negative emotions inside of her 

And if she ever gets angry or anything, you know Tada installed a gym in your guys’ home, so she’ll punch the punching bag or work out her emotions

Tada will join her if she’s feeling up for it 

She’s most likely into sports and Tada and you go to all of her games; Tada cheers the loudest but he will DENY IT 

When she graduates from high school, Tada will openly cry. He’s super proud of his little girl and she’s a step closer to being an adult, she most likely got a scholarship for whatever sport she was most excited for and a dozen other little scholarships as well. Tadatomo will give her a big ol’ hug and tell her how proud he is of her, honestly, you’re probs gonna cry too

He is another excellent papa, who would give the world to his kid- he’s honestly so happy that you’re with him because he feels like he would never be able to take care of her as good without you 

Xolotl

XOLOTL WOULD BE AN AMAZING DAD I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

I feel that he’d have one child, maybe two, but definitely one; a little boy

It’s most likely you who brings up the idea of having a kid with him; and he is both a nervous wreck and an excited mess because A) Oh! A baby! And you want to have one with him??? WHY??? And B) OH! A BABY! I LOVE BABIES AND I LOVE YOU

He’s a pretty gentle soul, so when you bring home the baby, Xolotl gets the kid to go out like a light every time he starts crying

It relieves both you and Lotl, but definitely Lotl, like, the poor guy always has a mini heart attack when his baby is crying

The baby is a bit of a fussy baby so, he tends to cry if he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention or he wants to be held 

Lotl is super attuned to your kids’ emotions?? Like, to a freaky degree, he can tell just what your baby wants

He records all milestones in your babies life and you know it’s him because you can hear his sniffles in the background

IF (and most likely) YOUR BABY’S FIRST WORD IS DADA, XOL WILL FUCKING LOSE HIS SHIT

                “Y/N! Y/N! Our baby said ‘dada’! Our baby said ‘dada’!”                 “Yes, Xol, that’s great! Don’t cry on the camera though, please-”                  *Incomprehensible blubbering ensues*

He’ll actually take the baby with him to work if you’re too busy to watch him or if you can’t find anyone to watch him 

AKA: Maria is super busy and can’t watch the baby, which kills her inside because she loves the baby and Xolotl, as much as he loves Garmr, isn’t about to trust him with his baby’s life because that is… a very foolish decision to make, unfortunately

Hakuman got mad at him the first time for this and started yelling at him when the baby started to cry, her maternal instincts kicked in and she was on it; like she snatched him out of his little baby carrier and cradled him, cooing at the baby until he calmed down and then she gave him back to his papa, who was mildly miffed for once in his life, thank you very much (his fur was standing on end, he was ready to throw down with the mistress). She even apologized for taking your guys’ baby without permission and startling him- don’t get her wrong, she was still very much against the idea of Xol bringing his baby to work. It can, afterall, be a very dangerous place, especially the casino, but what could you do? Obviously this little baby needed a place to stay and what better place than with his papa, her top bodyguard, and of course the one and only her!

She ends up convincing him to bring the baby a vast majority of the time he comes around now, she’ll have him take him into meetings she has with the Tycoons and they get nothing done. NOTHING. They’re all too busy playing with the baby. He has a tendency to get really antsy when Ophion comes near his baby, fighting the urge to snap at him, but he learned that Ophion just really likes kids and holding them. Though he did make the jab that you and him would’ve made much cuter children and Hakuman was terrified of Xolotl in that moment because he almost lost his shit 

When the baby becomes a toddler, Lotl is much more confident and experienced, but he’s still nervous, your little boy is still very attached to his papa despite this

When he meets new people that he doesn’t know very well, he’ll hide behind your’s or Xolotl’s leg and peek out at them

It’s really, really cute???? Lotl almost starts crying

SPEAKING OF CRYING, your little munchkin cries a lot

But Lotl never yells at him for it or anything, he just kneels down and rests his hands on his shoulders and asks what’s wrong, more often than not, your kiddo just gets nervous and starts crying, not loud and obnoxious, but those silent tears of stress. But then he gets a big ol’ hug from papa/you and he’s alright 

He likes to try and copy what Lotl does so he’ll pretend he has a tie and fix it whenever Papa Lotl does and he almost screamed when he caught your kiddo mimicking him

He’ll also steal Lotl’s glasses once in a while and wear them, pretending to be a kick ass agent like his dad

LOTL MADE HIM A MATCHING BRACELET TO HIM AND I SHIT YOU NOT WHEN I SAY: THIS BOY NEVER TAKES IT OFF, EVEN WHEN HE’S A TEENAGER THAT STAYS NO MATTER WHAT

Lotl gave it to him when it was his first day of school and told him that papa put some of his and mama/papa/nano’s bravery in it so he’d always have some of his own- and he just- AHHH-

As your little boy grows up, he develops a bit more of a bite than his dad has, so he’ll try to defend you guys from anyone if they try to say anything about his dad crying and hitting on you, they have one pissed off toddler on their hands and he fucking bites, it doesn’t matter if he has the fangs or not, he’ll bite someone

(You guys honestly don’t know where he learned that from-*looks at Garmr*)

When he hits his tween years, the boy is an anxious mess, but he’s not afraid to cry about it, he’s learned that crying is perfectly fine from his papa and it’s actually super healthy to get rid of all that pent up emotion, so you bet your ass when I say: your little boy knows a lot of healthy coping methods, which is awesome

It actually helps his transition through puberty a lot 

Real talk, he almost shits himself when he speaks and he realizes how deep his fucking voice is, even Lotl is freaked out. But then he gets real proud of it and so does Lotl and it’s a cute father-son moment

If he ever gets to be the same size of Lotl, he’ll still get plenty of head pats from his papa

His teenage years are pretty smooth sailing aside from him being a tad anxious and socially awkward about things, but he’ll get through it! With the power of support and him having a safe place to explore himself he’ll learn healthy coping mechanisms to handle his anxiety!

Though if he ever does get really emotionally constipated or it just becomes too much, he’ll go to Lotl or you and ask if you can hug him and he’ll just cry and let it all go, rambling into your shirt, you can barely make out the words, but still nodding along with what he’s saying- it really helps

He has a first job already in the bag: at the water park that Hakuman runs! Because like hell was he gonna work at the casino as a first job, over Lotl’s, your’s and Hakuman’s dead bodies. It really helps his social anxiety and he learns that he actually really likes to interact with people (also everyone loves him over there because he’s such a gigantic teddy bear)

He’s probably super into art and Lotl gets him everything art related that he can get his hands on, he really wants to support his kiddo 

Lotl and you go to every gallery that your son’s art features in and it’s always great because that’s where you get to see him shine the most

When your guys’ son graduates from high school with a fully paid scholarship to his dream art school for his portfolio, you're all crying. You’re all so proud of your guys’ little boy

Having a kid was really good for Xolotl- having a family was really good for him; it helped build his confidence and become more secure with himself. He only wished his brother could be here to see his nephew, but this was fine, he could probably see him know and see how good of a dad Lotl was

Bonus HC for Lotl: he’d be, hands down, one of the best characters to be a single parent. Change my mind

[sortinghatchats]

On Slytherin Primaries

Slytherins believe in the importance of taking care of their own. Everyone else is a person, but so are they, so a Slytherin’s job, before everything else, is taking care of them and theirs. This makes what Slytherin are known for, their ambition and ruthlessness, stand out strikingly even while a Slytherin’s core is not inherently selfish or cut-throat.

All of the Houses contain people with great ambitions and great desire for accomplishment and the furthering of their goals. Gryffindors will take on the world to do what they think is right, and are willing to make sacrifices and overrule those who would compromise on what needs to be done, and that’s nothing if not ambition. What makes the Slytherin ambition stand out so significantly is that it’s seen as a selfish ambition, and a guiltlessly selfish one at that. That drive is tied to personal achievement instead of idealistic achievement, and that makes it easier to point at. 

But this is key: selfish ambition is idealistic ambition for a Slytherin. A Slytherin’s first priority is to their loved ones not because they love deeper or harder than the other Houses (they don’t), but because it is wrong to betray or abandon your people and right to defend and promote them. Loyalty and defense of your own is an inherent part of the Slytherin morality.

A Slytherin does not generally feel guilty for valuing themselves, for taking time for their own mental or physical health, or for sacrificing other things for the safety and happiness of the people they love. They might feel vulnerable, or judged, or guilty for not feeling guilty, especially if they live in the kind of family or culture where humility and self sacrifice are seen as the greatest goods– but without watching eyes and the words of peers and authority figures bouncing around their skulls, a Slytherin would feel comfortable and even validated in the idea that they have both a right and duty to take care of their own selves before anything or anyone else. 

An exception to this is a Slytherin who’s managed to kick themselves out of their inner circle. For whatever reason, they don’t feel like they deserve their own help or kindnesses. Their “me and mine” priorities are still apparent but now it’s only “mine.” They fiercely and selflessly prioritize the individuals they love, value, or feel responsible for, while excluding their own self. A Slytherin like this can look somewhat like a Hufflepuff Primary, erring towards selflessness, but take a look at how they prioritize between their best friend v. a stranger in need. If they feel guilty for abandoning the stranger, they’re probably a Puff; Slytherins feel desperately like they owe things to their people, but they don’t feel like they owe people in general. (Also keep an eye out for a Burned Hufflepuff in this example, though– a Slytherin wouldn’t care strongly about not helping the stranger, except for general empathetic tickles; a Hufflepuff would be survivably eaten up inside; a Burned Puff would force themselves not to care because it’s the only practical thing). 

Not prioritizing their own would feel wrong to a Slytherin. It would feel selfish, and might feel like giving into social pressures instead of standing up for what matters to them. This can hold true emotionally even when logically, prioritizing you and yours is not the best thing to do. In The Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen, a Slytherin Primary who only wants her family to be safe, almost runs away from her place as an important political symbol on the chance that she and her loved ones could make it on their own, hiding from the capitol. She doesn’t– but she really wants to, and when things go wrong she feels guilty for not acting to put her loved ones first. 

Canonical Basis

Individual loyalty is something tied to Slytherins in the books and movies, but isn’t something that gets focused on. “Or perhaps in Slytherin you’ll make your real friends,” the Sorting Hat says in the song from Harry’s first year. It doesn’t explicitly use the loyal like it does for Hufflepuff, but that’s consistent because often, Slytherins don’t look loyal. If you’re not one of their most important people, who you can often count on one hand, they’re not particularly loyal. Loyalty doesn’t have an inherent worth for Slytherins the way it does for Hufflepuffs. Loyalty is less given and more earned.

And we have canonical examples of Slytherin loyalty, extreme and dramatic as it is. Slytherin loyalty is Narcissa Malfoy abandoning her Dark Lord for the sake of her son. Slytherin loyalty is the way Pansy Parkinson freaks out every time something injures Draco, and the way she was willing to sacrifice Harry to save herself and her friends (and the way she expected other people to agree with that judgement call). 

It’s Slughorn’s guiltless willingness to distance himself from Dumbledore’s war–until old Dumbly gave him a reason to risk his own precious skin. It’s Snape, unwilling to let go of Lily Potter even after decades have passed and her son has grown up an orphan; even when there is nothing still to gain from holding onto his loyalty to her, and even when he hates her son. 

Moving outside of canon (because there are nearly no positive descriptions of Slytherins with canon– Narcissa is a bigot, Pansy a bully, Slughorn a spineless creep, Snape a child abuser): 

Slytherin is Ender Wiggin going back to Battle School not to save the world but because his sister asked him to, and Bean going to Battle School because he could get an education there that would save himself and then staying to save Ender. Slytherin is Pepper Potts telling Tony that, to hell with the world, he needs to take care of himself first. It’s Andrea from The Walking Dead pulling a gun on the people who try to get between her and her sister’s body. It’s Toph Beifong not giving any fucks except that hey, Twinkle Toes needs her. It’s Briar Moss of Circle of Magicplunging into death itself, refusing to let Rosethorn go. 

Where Molly Weasley, in HP canon, weeps but drops her son Percy when he turns on them for the Ministry, blood purist and loyal daughter of House Black Narcissa Malfoy betrays the Dark Lord and saves Harry Potter for Draco’s sake. As the final, epic battle of good and evil culminates and commences in Hogwarts, Narcissa takes her family and she disappears. The ideals of her war were only her priority until her son was in direct danger. 

Slytherin v. Hufflepuff

Slytherin and Hufflepuff are the two Loyalist Primaries. People, and not ideals, are at the core of their judgement calls. But where Hufflepuffs tend to bond to groups, Slytherins bond with individuals.

Slytherin Primaries are horrified to see someone let down a friend. To turn on a loved one for words as insubstantial as truth or justice or the greater good feels like a very particular kind of madness. Sure that’s what you’re supposed to do, a Slytherin might say, but that’s not what you actually want, is it? Your person is right here. They are real, and they are breathing, and they need you, and they are yours. It’s an extreme Slytherin who would let the whole world burn for the sake of a friend, but every Slytherin Primary would be at the very least tempted.

We discuss in the Hufflepuff Primary post how when someone is dropped from a Hufflepuff’s group of “people,” it is a dramatic fall into becoming a dehumanized “thing.” This Hufflepuff dehumanization can take many forms– outsiders, “other”ing people, having strong beliefs in the justification behind more institutionalized types of exclusion like racism, sexism, classism. But it’s a divide where there are people who are people, and then there are people who are not-people. 

The Slytherin divide is very different. There is no mechanism inherent to the Primary that removes someone of their personhood. Rather, they are removed of their status. There is a possessive drive to Slytherin, and while that varies in intensity across different individuals, it puts the divide on the basic line of “mine” and “not mine.” We find it helpful to talk about it in terms of being in someone’s inner circle, but it’s not usually that binary. Like it is with everyone, loyalty comes in a gradient. 

But Slytherin’s loyalty is more selective than the other Houses’. Where a Hufflepuff extends some initial degree of loyalty on the basis of your being a person, with a Slytherin any loyalty you gain is earned from the bottom up; you start at 0. 

A Decided House

But when the major part of your moral system that you feel viscerally is to protect yourself and your people, there are a lot of gaps in how you interact with the world and with moral situations. What do Slytherins do when confronted with gross wrongs like slavery, like murder, like unjust war–wrongs that don’t touch their people? It depends on the Slytherin. But this is why we count a Slytherin as a Decided house along with Ravenclaw, despite the core of their moral system being very much felt. 

Some Slytherins simply don’t care–they opt out of the moral complications of the rest of the world and what touches other people and choose a contented apathy about the things that don’t intrude on their space– but other Slytherins construct ways to interact with these situations. 

Perhaps they do so by understanding that other people have connections as strong and important as their own, or by building something more complex. Sometimes Slytherins can build systems that look like Ravenclaw systems– systems based on observational data, on adopted systems, or by keeping the moral guidance that they were taught growing up. The defining difference between these constructed additional Slytherin systems and the Ravenclaw Primary system is that the Slytherins are aiming for function and don’t have the same drive for truth. It matters much less if the system they build is true than if it is functional. The system should optimize for what they care about and what makes them happy, but this moral code is not viscerally driving like a Slytherin’s desire to protect those closest to them. 

Some Slytherins latch specifically on to the morality of their most important person (or people), either because they trust them or because they value them. Samwise Gamgee, the loyal hobbit who follows Frodo through hell and back, adopts Frodo’s system. Sam does great good, bravely and well, but he does it, “For Mr. Frodo! For the Shire! And for my Gaffer!” Jeff Winger from Community also sometimes follows this pattern, absorbing the moralities of his study group and best friends. Both these characters are, to put it simplistically, wearing bracelets that read “What Would Mr. Frodo Do?” and “What Would The Study Group Do?” etc. For Jeff, it’s a bit more because Annie will pout at him if he’s doesn’t at least try. 

Aang, from Avatar the Last Airbender, builds himself a stunning replica of his beloved deceased father figure Gyatso’s ethical system and he lives in it all his life. Latching onto a parental figure or early (sometimes, in media, deceased) influence’s morality is a form of love common for young Slytherins. Train Heartnet of Black Cat (who Saya changes so completely), Kai of Korra (who takes in Jinora’s culture like it’s his own morality), and Edward Cullen of Twilight (who takes Carlisle’s pacifism to self-hating extremes), are all examples of that. 

Alternatively, a Slytherin might spend a lot of their time living in a Primary model–it might matter deeply to them to do good and right. If they have that drive for truth, they might have a Ravenclaw Primary model as opposed to just a Slytherin’s functional construction. They might also have a Gryffindor Primary or a Hufflepuff Primary model. They could even have a Slytherin Primary model– but one that is loyal and dedicated to a larger group of people, like a whole peer group, the population of a whole city, or even humanity in general. (This can look a bit like a Hufflepuff– one major visible difference is that particularly Slytherin sense of possessiveness.) They could live in that model for all conflicts and decisions that are separate from and non-threatening toward their most important people and be very functional with that. 

MCU’s Tony Stark is an example of this type. (He’s also an example of a Slytherin who has kicked himself out of his own inner circle). He is a Slytherin Primary dedicated to Pepper and Rhodey (and, as of Avengers 2, he’s likely coming to value the other Avengers this way), but he has built a driving model to allow him to interact ethically with the rest of the world. It is this model that drives Iron Man and his sustainability and charity projects. This model (we think it’s probably Gryffindor Primary) is likely also what will drive him to one side or the other in Civil War. As long as Pepper or one of his own is not in direct danger (though the danger to himself is irrelevant), Tony will act firmly in service of his model. 

But dropping that model in order to stand by someone you love, or in order to protect yourself, doesn’t feel like a failing. Sticking to that modelled morality at the expense of betraying or abandoning one of their own would make a Slytherin feel guilty and wrong. Being able to put the things and concepts you like aside for the sake of the people who need you feels more righteous than any moral posturing. It feels practical and it feels right, just as strongly as a Gryffindor Primary’s internal moral compass points them. 

It’s a people based system, but it’s still an intuitive model of right and wrong. Betraying your own is the worst kind of crime. Loyalty is precious and terrible; it makes you vulnerable. It’s given sparingly, deeply, and a Slytherin will stand by their loyalties through the same death and fire that a Gryffindor would brave for the sake of doing the right thing, or a Hufflepuff to help someone in need.

In the same vein, when a Slytherin realizes that someone else doesn’t put the same value on the people they profess loyalty to, they might react similarly to a Gryffindor realizing that morality isn’t intuitive to everyone. Some things are just wrong, a Gryffindor might protest. But they’re your child–your spouse–your friend, a Slytherin will cry, confused and unsettled. How could you?

Petrified or Burned Slytherin

While there are certainly Slytherin Primaries who don’t care about any people who aren’t theirs, many Slytherins, especially ones who enjoy being more social, have wide circles of friends and acquaintances; people they will go out of their way to help, and whose company they enjoy, whose confidence they trust (to a point). What defines a Slytherin is not a lack of these concentric circles, but rather how sharply those lines of stratification are drawn. Wanting to help someone doesn’t mean you’re loyal to them. Wanting to help them at the expense of your comforts, your values, your commitments and sometimes even your self–that does. 

You end up with Slytherin Primaries on both ends of the spectrum: ones who have decided that a huge group of people are “theirs” (to the extreme of: the world is my responsibility and I have bonded to every single individual contained in it), and ones who have decided that they themselves are not one of their most important people, but maybe a friend or lover is. 

You can also get Slytherins whose only important person is themselves. This can be done healthily, especially for short periods of times, but when it’s driven by a fear of those close attachments, it becomes a phenomenon we call the Burned or Petrified Slytherin. 

The Petrified Slytherin is a Slytherin who has no inner circle and no plans to get one. Whether through death, betrayal, abandonment (from either side), or through never having had any to begin with, the Petrified Slytherin has decided that having important people is too dangerous. Having those strong ties leaves you open to pain and weakness, and the pleasure of those connections aren’t worth the despair that comes from their seemingly inevitable loss. In this way, they close themselves off to meaningful connections out of what is ultimately fear (though from the inside, it’s far more likely to be experienced as a rational, sensible decision given the circumstances of the world), and gives them a stony exterior that seems impenetrable, resolute, and cold. 

Even when not Petrified, though, the Slytherin Primary often seems cold. This comes not from any actual inherent coldness, but because they often show their warmth only to their inner circle. This is hugely influenced by your other houses, especially when you get the warmth of the Hufflepuff Secondary involved, or have a warm model– but even then, there is a special and somewhat exclusive kind of warmth saved for those who are held the closest. 

A Slytherin Primary in our system is defined first and foremost by the intensity and priority of their loyalties to individual people, however few or many. And the way to break a Slytherin– whether you’re stopping their plans or crushing their will– is to either take away their people or to threaten to. Narcissa betrays Voldemort, fully aware of what that could mean for the safety of herself and her husband, because Draco was more important than anyone or anything. Azula of Avatar the Last Airbender, for all her coldness and lack of mercy, does what she does because she wants desperately to be loved and accepted by her father. When Annabeth, his friends, or his mother are threatened, Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson loses all other priorities– his canonical fatal flaw is that he would let the world burn to save a friend. Nothing brings out the fierceness in a Slytherin like getting in between them and their loved ones.

To a Slytherin the inner circle of close loyalties is likely to be a much smaller number than the people they care about and consider friends. A petrified Slytherin is therefore not necessarily someone who is friendless, or who has no social ties, or who lacks affection for people. It’s not even a Slytherin without some sort of a hierarchy of important people.

A petrified Slytherin is a Slytherin who has decided, either consciously or not, that letting people into that inner circle– devoting themselves to someone with that deep, thoughtless Narcissa-type or Azula-type loyalty– is too dangerous. It’s too terrifying. When someone is that close, they become a huge risk. They might die, or you they might stop loving you, or stop liking you, or something awful might happen to them and it might be your fault. Something awful might happen to you because someone might threaten your people and use them against you, and you would be helpless. If you couldn’t find a way to maneuver through the situation, you would have to do whatever was demanded of you to keep your people safe, because nothing would be worse than losing them and having it be your own fault.

Surviving a situation like that (losing someone or having their lives used as collateral against you) is one of the ways we see Petrification often happen. 

Not all Slytherins will Petrify in such a situation– Finnick from The Hunger Games, a Slytherin Primary whose only people are Mags and Annie, has resisted Petrifying even when there are good arguments that it would be a far more adaptive thing to do. The Capitol’s only way of controlling him is by threatening to hurt the people he loves, and even after Mags is killed, he stays resolutely attached to Annie. It gives him the strength to carry on, but is also the weakness that the Capitol is exploiting. If Annie died, Finnick would be very likely to Petrify.

Bean, in Ender’s Shadow, is a Petrified Slytherin for most of the book. He likes people, and sometimes idolizes people, but their main purpose in his life is the utility of them. His connections are a cold, logical thing, closer to an alliance than to a friendship, and often not mutually so. Bean is interesting because we never see the Petrification process. He’s born into a survival situation and is cold and hard and determined to live from the first page. It is only at the very end, when he grows attached to Nikolai and allows himself to consider the possibility that he, too, could have a family who he loves and who loves him, that we see that Petrification begin to melt away. 

Jeff Winger from Community is another example. A ruthless lawyer only out for his own gain and without an attachment in the world except to maybe his car, he’s the perfect example of a Petrified Slytherin. His tentative, slow-moving back and forth journey into attachment to the other characters is a character arc of un-Petrifying. He’s better at it some days than others. 

With female characters in particular, the petrified Slytherin is hugely tied to the trope of the Ice Queen. From TV Tropes: “Her signature characteristic is that she is cold; the ambiguity comes from what “cold” means. She has a cold heart, a frosty demeanor; she attracts but will never be wooed.” Characters who fit this trope are not always Petrified Slytherins, but the trope is an important parallel if not just because of the imagery they share: cold, hard, unyielding, nothing to lose. 

When a Slytherin loses their closest attachments, they are left with only their personal ambitions and with the morality system that is usually constructed around those loyalties. In the sense that the way that they now primarily frame their interactions with the world is constructed, they often appear to look like Ravenclaw Primaries here. The most visible and useful difference here, especially from the outside, is that they don’t have the Ravenclaw drive for truth. Their system doesn’t have to be true or right, but simply functional. If they have a Ravenclaw Primary model that gives them some of that drive, then they might be indistinguishable from the Ravenclaw Primary unless there are are counterexamples of Slytherin loyalty from other points in their life. 

Despite it seeming to at least be a trend, not all Petrified Slytherins look like Ravenclaw Primaries. Petrified Slytherins with models of other Primaries might happily and healthily inhabit those models as their main way of interacting with the world, and this has the potential to be entirely functional. The reason that the model would remain a model though, and not indicate an actual change in Primary, would be that first, there still remains the possibility to un-petrify, and second, even if there is nothing substantial underneath it, the model could still be dropped.

This potential for to drop that model and fall to an underlying lack of structure and direction is part of what gives desperate Slytherins their reputation of being fearsome. Azula is a great, if extreme, example of this when she loses everything at the end of season 3 of Avatar. Mental illness (in the form of at the very least hallucinations and almost definitely a lot more) and trauma also have of course a huge influence on the intensity of everything that happens, but that basic directionlessness, the way that Azula has nothing left after she loses her father, the way she’s so susceptible to being haunted by her mother’s memory, hits so hard because she had structured everything around her Slytherin morality. She had no real goals or ideals underneath that, and so she had no structure to keep her up when that crumbled.

One of the good things about Petrification, as scary and awful as it is, is that it’s a good way to survive a bad situation and it’s possible to un-petrify (see: Defrosted Ice Queen). Because fear of attachment is at the heart of petrification, instead of needing reality to prove your doubts wrong (as the other fallen Houses must), you only need one person to prove that attachment is worth the risk. 

Elementary’s Jamie Moriarty follows a common path here in that, despite her pretending to be un-petrifying for our protagonist Sherlock, the one person she ends up actually attaching to her is her daughter. She is the Slytherin woman who un-petrifies upon becoming a mother. Regina in Once Upon a Time also follows this path, becoming through that a subversion of the Evil Queen, who is often a Petrified Slytherin who does not un-petrify (see her mother, Cora, and the symbolic plot of removing her heart so that no one can use it against her). 

It’s really common in media for characters who have closed themselves off to attachments to be called psychopaths, both by the fans and the writers, when they are, in fact, not. A lot of them have empathy, or at least the capacity for it, and are instead Petrified.The definitive and intentional split between the self and meaningful attachments, due to loss, trauma, selfishness, or fear, is different from the inability to intuitively create those attachments. Calling this “petrification,” rather than inaccurately calling it “psychopathy,” gives the character flexibility to recover from it that doesn’t end up as either a contradiction of established character or as a downplaying of actual serious mental illness.

To sum: Petrification happens when a Slytherin cares about their important people so intensely that pain from their loss, or the potential for future loss, outweighs the positives of having important people. It stops being worth it. Even if it leaves the Slytherin with a directionless system and a cold center where there is an aching potential for great warmth, it feels safer and better to not attach to anyone that strongly.

tl;dr Slytherin Primary

Slytherin is a Decided House, and Internal House, and a Loyalist House. 

As a Decided House, Slytherins, unlike Hufflepuffs (our other loyalists), prioritize "their" people first. Those people are found and chosen by the Slytherin. It's not about who is in front of them,  or who needs them most, but who they have decided to love.

As a Internal House, like Gryffindor, Slytherin Primaries carry a certainty and a moral fortitude inside of themselves. When they are sure they are right, in the defense of themselves or their loved ones, they will not be swayed by outside influence or pressure.

As a Loyalist House, Slytherin puts people first. Unlike the Hufflepuff, they put their people first. They’re content with valuing some people over others without necessarily thinking some people are better than or worth more than others. In fact, putting their own people first feels right. This is something owed. Not valuing the people you profess loyalty to most would be a betrayal, a cowardice, an abandonment. The best thing you can be is there for the people you love. 

Ambitions live in all Houses but Slytherins’ is notorious because it often looks the most selfish– it often is the most selfish. Part of a Slytherin’s morality is understanding that your first duty is to yourself and the people you love– higher minded goals are all pomp and circumstance, trying to make yourself feel good. At the heart of things, this is why we are here: for ourselves.

[devil-in-the-d3tails]

It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 4

summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?

Link on AO3!

words: 3,721

rating: M - Mature

genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert

warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing

a/n: there's finally some ACTION y'all!! i had so much fun writing this chapter haha, reader is really finding her footing and putting an end to the bullshit! thank you for reading!!

- Fuck Outta Here -

“You huh?!”

You slam on the brakes, and Kuroo and Bokuto yell in surprise-- Bokuto didn’t put his damn seatbelt on, so his face smushes right into Kuroo’s headrest, earning you a glare from the dark-haired boy.

“I said don’t freak out! Keep driving, what are you doing?!”

You look in your rearview mirror-- the street is empty. Were they running from anyone chasing them?

“Dude, you were whispering at me when you ran out, and you guys were like, running on your little tippy-toes trying to be quiet, and nobody’s behind us right now. Were they asleep, or something?” You demand, and Bokuto gasps.

“You’re so smart-- how did you figure that out?” Bokuto exclaims, and Kuroo just looks even more annoyed. “Oh, your groceries were there, too! Like, just chillin on the floor.”

“What? No way!” You exclaim,

“Bokuto, shuuuuut iiiit,” Kuroo groans at the same time, and upon a fierce glare from you, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, they were asleep, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back in there. I get why you were scared-- one of ‘em looks like a damn school shooter, and the other one looks like a roided-out football player.” Kuroo huffs out a breath, trying and failing to get some wayward hairs out of his eye. “I’m surprised we got out alive-- I’m also surprised at how bad Asahi is at hiding weed. Did his parents just not give a shit?”

“So you were willing to stay in there to look for your weed after you knew they were there, after you saw them, but you’re not willing to go back in for my groceries? Meaning, shit that can actually help us?!” You exclaim, having fully turned in your seat to face the boy beside you. He looks at you for a moment, blinking twice to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Uh-- yeah!” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You throw your hands in the air incredulously.

“Kuroo, you yourself said that food is hard to come by right now-- why would you prioritize weed over food?!”

“She’s kinda right, bro.” Bokuto says, and Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“You guys were so down to be heroes and shit and protect me from those guys if they turned out to be in my house; where’s that energy now?” You fling the car into park, and move to open your door.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Kuroo exclaims, and lunges across the center console to yank your door closed again. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m going to get my shit! I looted it, fair and square!” You shoot back, and you realize how incredibly childish you sound, and also how close Kuroo is to you. He sets his jaw, and heaves a sigh.

“[Y/n]...” He leans back, and shares a look with Bokuto, who already looks guilty. “They had guns with them.”

Your heart sinks. Well, that changes everything.

“I didn’t wanna mention your groceries, ‘cause I had a feeling this exact thing would happen.” Kuroo explains, and scratches his eyebrow. “It’s not a bad thing how you’re so hell-bent on proving yourself and proving you’re not scared or whatever, but that mentality is gonna get dangerous. Like, right now, you’re really willing to storm in there and go get some-- what, some poptarts? Totinos pizza rolls?”

“I didn’t know they had guns before.” You mumble defensively. “...and there weren’t anymore Totinos left in the store in the first place…”

“Aw, man.” Bokuto mourns under his breath at the last part of your sentence.

“Even if they didn’t have guns, you were willing to storm in there after those guys hurt you once before.” Kuroo shoots right back.

“Well, she has us now, Kuroo.” Bokuto pipes up, and you both turn to him in surprise-- he’s been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. “She’s right, dude, we were all down to be her bodyguards this morning, but now there’s actual danger, we’re not willing to back her up?”

“There’s always been danger, but it’s exponentially worse now.” Kuroo says, and you haven’t heard anyone use ‘exponentially’ in a sentence ever since AP Calculus.

“If she wants to go back in there, I’m going with her.” Bokuto says, and crosses his arms to give you an encouraging smile. Your heart warms at the sight-- his smile, his encouragement, is all you need in this moment to get the courage to go back and take what’s yours.

“Let’s go.” You say to Bokuto, who nods once, and slips out of the car. You give a pointed look to Kuroo, his handsome features unreadable. You open your door, and step one leg out, when Kuroo speaks up.

“Wait.” He says, and you turn back hesitantly, unsure of what he might say. “You’re forgetting your mighty hammer.” He holds it out to you, and you’re so irritated to find the corners of his lips twitching up.

You swipe the hammer out of his hand, narrowing your eyes at him before slamming the door closed to stalk around the car to join Bokuto. You really weren’t expecting to get pissed off this early in the morning.

“Let’s do this!” He says loudly, and you leap to slap your hand over his mouth.

“Shh! We don’t wanna wake them up, dipshit!!” You hiss, and Bokuto’s eyes widen.

“Awww, fuck, I’m sorry!” He whispers as you pull your hand away.

A car door slams closed, and you turn to see Kuroo sauntering towards you two with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, be quiet, dipshit.” He leers, and Bokuto actually squares up. You cross your arms.

“The car’s still running, so we need someone to watch it.” You say, channelling the bitchiest ‘you-can’t-sit-with-us’ attitude you can. “Plus, I have Bokuto and my ‘mighty hammer,’ so we’ll be fine.”

“Who’s gonna steal the car?” Kuroo gestures around him, and playfully swipes Bokuto’s arm away, the latter of whom delivers two harmless jabs to his side. The two boys laugh, but you won’t forgive Kuroo that easily. “C’mon, let’s go, grumpy.” Kuroo strides past you, ruffling your already messy hair on the way.

You have no choice but to follow behind them, and the closer you three jog to the house, the tenser you become. Steeling your nerves, you refuse to be intimidated by these guys a second time. They’re asleep, and are clearly heavy sleepers if they can’t be disturbed by the two jocks stomping around with you, so that gives you some comfort.

They didn’t close the door behind them when they rushed out, so Kuroo just has to gently ease the door open and you three slip inside silently. It seems like this house has been untouched— they probably sought shelter here last night, since your home was basically useless in terms of keeping warmth in. Your eyes dart to the hardwood floor, and you look up to hook Bokuto with an accusatory glare. He responds silently with an expression like a hurt puppy, his face reading, ‘what? What did I do wrong??’

“You said the groceries were on the floor!” Your voice is just barely a whisper, and based on Bokuto’s continued distress, you can tell he can’t hear you. You fight back a loud sigh, and tip-toe over to him, yanking his shoulder down so that his ear is on level with your lips. You repeat yourself, and Bokuto straightens up, understanding now.

“They’re upstairs! Next to those guys, in Asahi’s room.” He whispers back, and your heart sinks even lower. This is going to be riskier than you thought. You can practically feel Kuroo’s ‘I-told-you-so,’ hanging in the air, and upon glaring at the tall boy, it’s painted all over his face, too. You jerk your nose in the air, absolutely refusing to pussy out now.

The three of you cautiously ascend the stairs-- they’re on the left, as opposed to the right, like in your home, and it sort of trips you out how similar but different the two houses are. At the top, Kuroo passes you and nods to the door at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar with snores emanating from the inside. You suck in a breath as you follow him, and jump a little as Bokuto grips your hand without warning. You whip around to face him, and he gives you a smile and a thumbs-up. That just warms your heart, and you feel a little bit of confidence from the exchange-- you nod to him, a brave smile pulling at your lips.

The room itself is pretty average, just like any other high school boy’s room you knew. There’s a few volleyball posters on the walls, and clothes are still spilling out of the hamper. You’re getting less and less shocked at how everything seems to be frozen in time, since everyone just disappears without a trace, these days.

Sure enough, there’s a handgun resting on the floor next to the red-head, and another similar one resting on the bedside table by the brunette. The sight of actual guns sitting before you is jarring, to say the least— you don’t feel particularly confident about your hammer anymore.

The taller brunette is sound asleep on the bed, and the red-head is slumped on the floor, sitting against the desk with his head drooping down. You swear you can see a bit of drool hanging from his mouth, but your sole focus is on the three bags resting against the closet doors.

That’s your stuff-- you share a glance with Kuroo and Bokuto, take a deep breath, and cautiously tip-toe to the bags, picking them up as quietly as possible. As you straighten up, you keep your gaze trained on the red-head, and you successfully retreat outside of the room-- Kuroo and Bokuto follow behind you with bated breath, but it’s when you start to carefully descend the stairs that shit hits the fan.

In an instant, a bullet ricochets off the wall in front of you, and you duck down, effectively losing your footing to end up tumbling down the stairs. You hear Kuroo shout your name from above, but once you’re on solid ground, you spring up to your feet, and are met with Bokuto crashing into you. He barrels into you, and you tumble to the floor once again, landing on your back with Bokuto sprawled out on top of you.

“Get-- get off me, you fuckn-- mammoth!” You wheeze out, and Bokuto scrambles to his feet. After scooping up your groceries (with the exception of a few wayward items spilling out in the midst of the crash), you are pulled up by Bokuto, and Kuroo swiftly passes you, a slew of “shitshitshit”s running from his mouth as he sprints out the door.

You don’t have time to look behind you, up at the stairs where the red-head scrambles after you three, frantically cocking his gun, clearly very inexperienced in the art of shooting. Instead, you race after your even more athletic friends towards your van, which is still running and not stolen-- another thing Kuroo was right about, you think somewhere in the back of your mind.

Speaking of, the dark-haired boy rips open the backseat door, and after he tosses his bag of groceries inside, he frantically turns back to you just as you’re sprinting up to him.

You’re maybe two feet away when strong arms wrap around your middle, halting you in your panicked sprint, and your grocery bag tumbles out of your arms in front of you. Furious, you twist around in the grasp of whoever is holding you, only to come face-to-face with the red-head.

“You!” You both exclaim at the same time, and the guy narrows his eyes dangerously. You don’t have the patience to find out what sort of masochistic shit he has in plan for you-- instead, you summon all of the strength and frustration that’s been building up inside of you the past few days, and deliver the strongest punch you’ve ever dealt straight into his nose.

For some reason, you screech, “Fuck outta here!” as you deal the blow.

He yelps in surprise, and tumbles back, which gives you enough freedom to spin out of his grasp, only to be caught in Bokuto’s arms as you reach for your groceries strewn on the asphalt.

You’re lifted off your feet, groceries still strewn on the damp street, as Bokuto hurls you into the backseat of the car, slams the door closed, and leaps over the hood of the car to slip into the driver’s seat. Kuroo isn’t in the passenger seat, you realize, and your gaze darts out your window to spot him rushing back, scooping up your groceries to toss them into the open passenger door, where they tumble onto the floor of your car.

“Kuroo!” Both you and Bokuto yell just as the red-head recovers, his hand clasped over his now bleeding nose, blood trickling through his fingers and down his chin to stain his already filthy white shirt. The red-head raises the gun to Kuroo, who freezes in fear-- you scream, and just as you are about to shove your door back open to help, the red-head pulls the trigger, only to be met with an empty click!

“Fuck!” The red-head yells, and Kuroo actually laughs in his face-- if that wasn’t surprising enough, he slaps the gun out of his hand before he has a chance to reload, and promptly punches him, certainly harder than you had, and your face splits-- miraculously-- into a smile.

Kuroo turns, and dashes inside of the car-- as soon as his ass hits the seat, Bokuto slams his foot onto the gas as Kuroo hauls his door closed.

Bullets shatter the windows in the very back a second later, and all three of you scream and duck down as glass rains down behind you. Bokuto swerves the car, but keeps speeding ahead nonetheless, and you turn around to see the tall brunette, standing proudly in the street, gun raised and smoking. It looks like a shot out of a movie, with your shattered back window as the frame that keeps zooming out. The red-head is just barely beginning to stand, and they get smaller and smaller as you drive further away-- from your home, your biggest fears, your childhood. It’s all ruined, disappearing with every house you pass, and eventually Bokuto swerves around a corner, and it’s gone forever.

[-]

The brunette slowly lowers his gun, and lets out a disappointed sigh. The rain starts up again, drizzling on the two boys left behind in the car’s exhaust.

“Tendou,” He begins in his deep voice, which so rarely gets used to deliver pleasantries.

“I know, I know,” The red-head says, his voice blocked off slightly from his grip on his bleeding nose. “I should’ve been on watch. Sorry, Ushijima, but I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Our food is gone. Now we have to find more, and we are back in the same situation we were in three days ago.” Ushijima says evenly, and Tendou can hardly believe this is the same man that’s been starving with him for the past few days. He’s still so calm and collected-- well, he is a natural-born leader, he supposes.

“Relax. We can find them again, and take all our shit back. I’m sure they have a cute little hiding place somewhere with even more food for us. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Tendou assures, smiling his same unsettling smile he’s had since elementary school. Ushijima isn’t put off by it, though-- he never is.

He stays unbothered as he shakes his head.

“No. I’m tired of chasing after them. Let’s look around these houses, and then we’ll look for more grocery stores.” Ushijima says decisively, and picks up Tendou’s gun to hand over to him nicely. “You need to remember to keep this loaded, especially right now when there’s crazy people after us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tendou begrudgingly takes the gun from his friend with a sigh. “Not my fault I didn’t grow up knowing how to shoot a target from miles away.”

“I can only shoot a target with extreme accuracy when it’s about ten or maybe even twenty feet away.” Ushijima responds, confused as to why Tendou would give him so much credit when it comes to shooting. He pauses, then asks, “Are you alright?”

Tendou blinks, a little surprised at Ushijima’s sudden caring tone. “Yeah, I just need a towel or something-- it should stop bleeding soon.”

Ushijima nods, and pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s find some bandages, and then we’ll look for food.”

Tendou nods as he follows Ushijima back inside the house.

“Kyotani’s gonna be pissed…” He mutters under his breath.

[-]

“Ho-holy shit!” Bokuto yells, swerving around another corner without letting up on the gas.

“I know!!” You exclaim as you sway in your seat, the adrenaline just now beginning to ebb away. Your hands are shaking, but you’ve never felt more empowered. “I literally punched a guy in the face!!” You laugh, and pinch your cheeks to make sure this is real.

Kuroo laughs with you, wiping sweat off his brow, and turns around to look at you with that grin of his.

“‘Fuck outta here’? When did you become an action hero?” He teases, and you giggle, tossing your hair over your shoulder playfully.

“I guess I’m just that bitch.” You declare, and Bokuto laughs boisterously from the front seat.

The rest of the ride goes smoothly as the three of you shake out the rest of your jitters from earlier. It turns out, this is the safest and most at ease you’ve felt since the quarantine started two months ago-- Kuroo and Bokuto are some of the nicest guys you’ve ever met. You sort of can’t believe your luck; if you hadn’t run into them at the grocery store, who knows where you’d be right now?

A dopey, happy smile stays on your features the whole rest of the way back to the gym. Even though it’s started raining again, you feel on top of the world as you gaze at your two newfound friends in the front seat.

“I know I’m sexy, but you don’t gotta keep staring.” Kuroo pulls you out of your little daydream with his teasing, and you roll your eyes, but don’t stop smiling.

“Thanks, you guys. Seriously.” You say sincerely. Bokuto looks into the rearview mirror to give you another one of his heart-melting smiles.

“Ehh, don’t mention it.” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck as Bokuto turns onto a dirt road you don’t recognize.

“Uhhh… Bokuto? Where ya goin, bud?” You ask.

“Shortcut!” Bokuto declares proudly. “This side street cuts through all that traffic on the main streets.”

“Nice!” Kuroo praises, then snickers. “Except there’s no traffic right now, dude.”

“Oh.” Bokuto blinks, and blushes. “Sorry, um… force of habit?”

It actually tears your heart in two just seeing Bokuto even slightly deflated, so you leap to comfort him.

“No, don’t worry!” You lean forward, wrapping your arms over his shoulder to hug him from behind. “It’s the scenic route!”

Bokuto blushes even deeper, but his spirits are definitely lifted as he presses on. Trees drape over the unfamiliar road, and you pass by lots of beautiful shrubs and grassy areas which have only grown larger since the huge absence of people. You sit up quickly as a blue Toyota comes into view-- you’d recognize that stupid Death Star foam antenna tip anywhere. As Bokuto drives closer and closer, you have no doubt in your mind that that’s your father’s car just up ahead, the front completely crashed into a large oak tree.

“Stop! Stop,” You exclaim, but don’t wait for Bokuto to do as he’s told as you rush out of the car. Luckily, he was already slowing down as you tumble out, much to the displeasure of the boys inside the car.

You don’t quite feel your legs as dread and worry settles over you the closer you walk to the car. Had your dad been killed in a crash? Was he injured, and didn’t have the strength to call for help, and then died when you didn’t come looking for him? You cover your mouth as you feel tears prick your eyes as all sorts of terrible thoughts and scenarios overwhelm your brain, but when you finally reach the driver’s seat, you’re met with nothing.

There’s no blood stains, only a now-deflated airbag, and you notice that the seatbelt is still clicked into place. A chill goes up your spine-- it’s as if your dad just… disappeared.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Kuroo’s voice coming up behind you snaps you out of your little trance, and you turn to Kuroo and Bokuto in distress. They frown at your expression, and you can’t help the sniffle that escapes you.

“This is, um… this is my dad’s car.” You say, and your voice is so small. Kuroo and Bokuto exchange a glance, unsure of what to say. You don’t expect them to have any words of comfort, anyway-- you’ve all lost those closest to you, so you’re all familiar with this feeling but… seeing your dad’s car, how it’s crashed in such a peculiar way with zero trace of your dad ever being there… it hurts so much more when you don’t even have a body to bury, or ashes to hold onto.

You bite your lip, and open the driver’s side door to flip the sun visor down, revealing a picture of you, your dad, and your mom on vacation, clipped in place next to the mirror. With a sad smile, you gingerly take the photo, and run your fingers over the faces of your mom and dad.

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, and you look up with teary eyes to meet Bokuto’s bright ones. He’s smiling, if only to comfort you.

“Let’s go.” He says gently, and you suck in a breath, and nod. The three of you pile back into the car, and you tuck the picture into your jacket’s inside pocket, placing your hand over it just to make sure it’s safe as Bokuto continues the drive back to the gym.

[bellakitse]

Lovin' you is a gift tonight (Lovin' you for all my life)

Ten years ago when Alex leaned in for a kiss, Michael panicked and with it missed his shot. He's lived with that regret for a decade. Some things are always meant to be though and fate gives him a second chance when he runs into Alex at an airport as they wait for their delayed flight.

stuck at the airport fic 13.6K

Michael Guerin has no one to blame for his current situation but himself. Well, maybe he can also blame the weather, which, if he thinks about it, was absolute shit because of global warming, which is the fault of power-hungry politicians and greedy corporations. So really, he isn't the one his sister should be yelling at, not that Isobel Evans cares to listen right now.

"What do you want me to do, Iz?" he asks for the second time when she pauses from lecturing him to take a breath. "I just spoke to one of the attendants at the gate; the flight is delayed because of the snow."

"If you had booked your flight when I asked you to," she starts, repeating herself for the millionth time. He exhales loudly in hopes it will stop her, but not the least surprised when it doesn't. "Instead of waiting till the last minute, you could have gotten a flight from Boston to Dallas to Roswell instead of having to stop in Denver. Where of course there's snow, because it's fucking Colorado, Michael."

“Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20 and all that, Isobel,” he tells her, sighing yet again as she scolds him some more. He takes a seat at the far end of the terminal where there are fewer people, most of his fellow passengers are closer to the gate door, taking their frustrations out on two flight crew members who have the unfortunate luck of being there.

There is only a small cluster of people where he is. An elderly couple who seemed satisfied in dozing off against each other to his right. A woman to his left with a small child who has his face pressed against the window watching the ground crew that is trying to clear the runways, and a man in ripped jeans and a worn leather jacket, sitting across from him. Michael can’t see his face as he roots through his backpack, but what he can see, he likes.

Dark glossy hair a little longer on the top as the fringe falls over the guy’s eyes. Michael spots a few days’ worth of stubble when the guy turns his face, which does nothing to hide sharp cheekbones and the kind of jawline Michael would like to sink his teeth into. He looks down at the guy’s hands as he sorts through his bag and catches a glimpse of chipped black nail polish and silver rings; it makes Michael’s stomach clench as it reminds him of someone else who liked that look. He’s always had a thing for the rocker vibe, and this guy is filling it to a tee. Michael really wants to see his face and see if it matches the rest of the already pretty package.

“Michael, are you even listening to me?” Isobel complains loudly over the phone, distracting him from enjoying the view in front of him.

“Not really,” he answers honestly, shifting to get comfortable on the airport’s hard plastic chairs. “I tend to tune out your bitching,” he tells her, and the guy makes a sound, indicating that he’s overheard the conversation, his head still in his backpack.

Michael smiles, oddly pleased that he’s amused him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“According to you, I’m always an asshole,” he continues, and the guy’s shoulders give a small shake as he finally looks up.

Michael spots brown eyes and full pink lips curved upward. They’re beautiful, but it’s the man’s eyes that Michael is stuck on. Eyes he’s seen before but not in ten years, eyes that haunt his dreams to this day. Eyes that are widening as they look back at him with recognition.

Alex Manes.

“Guerin?” He asks hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper, while the disbelief is loud and clear.

He ends the call without saying goodbye to Isobel.

“Alex,” he croaks out, his voice cracking in a way it hasn’t since he was a teenager. Given that he hasn’t seen Alex since then, the irony isn’t lost on him.

Alex Manes, the guy responsible for his bisexual awakening.

He gives him another once over now that he can see his face, his gaze no longer interested in a stranger, but instead in the guy that in his private moments, he calls ‘the one that got away.’

At 17, Alex had made the angsty emo look work for him, now the eyeliner was gone, but the edginess was still there. He wasn’t in head to toe black like back in the day; there was a soft-looking green sweater peeking out under his leather jacket, and his hair wasn’t spiked up with vast amounts of gel. Instead, it looked soft, and Michael’s hand itched to touch it.

He recalls the last time they were truly alone. Alex’s kindness still, to this day, warms him from the inside out. The lack of hesitation in Alex to let Michael use his shed when he needed a warm place to stay. How he had given Michael his first guitar just because Michael liked to play, and Alex wanted to do something nice for him.

There is a flutter in Michael’s stomach as he thinks about Alex, gentle and hesitant, leaning in to kiss him. Just as quickly, his stomach drops as he remembers how he turned his face away at the last second in a moment of panic. An action that Michael instantly regretted and has continued to regret ten years later.

After their failed almost kiss, Alex kept his distance, letting him continue to stay in the shed but never coming back to spend time with him, and before he knew it, they were swept up in the excitement of graduation, and after that, Alex was just gone.

He knew enough about Alex's family life to see that he wanted to be as far away from his father as possible, and the boy had not waited for a second longer than he had to. Diploma in hand, he’d gotten a bus out of Roswell, leaving the town with Rosa Ortecho. By then, it was too late for Michael, who was only just realizing that Alex Manes was someone that mattered more to him than anyone outside of Max and Isobel. Leaving Michael with the painful realization that he’d missed his moment.

“What are you doing here?” he blurts out as he gets out of his chair and takes a step towards Alex, instantly cringing at the volume and speed with which he says it. He comes to a halt as Alex startles back in his seat. “I mean- that is-“ he stammers as he waves his hand nervously, feeling his face grow hot. Alex lifts an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say something coherent. “Hi?”

Alex stares at him for a moment longer before he breaks out into a smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Hi, Guerin,” he says, taking a step towards him as he stands, and Michael realizes with a jolt that Alex is going in for a hug. Luckily his body isn’t stuck on stupid like his brain and mouth, and he gets it to cooperate in time. He wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders and tries not to do something mortifying like let out a moan at the feel of Alex’s hard body against his, or worse, press his face into Alex’s neck and inhale his scent like a total creep.

“Hi, Alex,” he mumbles into his shoulder, holding on longer than it’s probably acceptable to greet an old school friend. Fortunately, Alex proves to still be kind and lets Michael hold him, not commenting on the lingering hug, even though his own hands are now loose at Michael’s waist.

Knowing he can’t prolong the embrace any longer without making it weird, he tightens his hold one more second before pulling away without stepping back. This close, he can see Alex’s stupidly attractive face and commit to memory all the ways its change. Gone is the boyishness from years ago. At 28, Alex Manes is a man, and it shows. His features are more defined; the facial hair adds a ruggedness he didn’t have in their youth. There are faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth that makes Michael glad to see them. High school Alex didn’t laugh nearly as much as he should’ve, not when there were bullies at school and an even bigger bully at home, but as glad as it makes him to think of a happy Alex, it’s mixed with a sadness that he wasn’t the one there to make it happen. There is a small scar above his right eye, and he instantly wants to ask him about it as he touches it. He does neither and instead finally takes a step back.

“Hi,” he says once more, and he hopes his smile isn’t as lovesick as it feels, but he’s in front of his teenage crush, that he’s never completely gotten over, and his palms are sweating, his pulse racing.

Alex grins, his eyes flickering with laughter. “Hi, again,” he teases. “Long time no see, Guerin.”

Michael licks his lips nervously. “Ten years.”

Alex nods, still smiling easily at him as he takes back his seat. Michael hesitates for a moment, before deciding that sitting across Alex is too far. He grabs his carry on and rolls it to the seat next to Alex's. He says nothing, looking at him welcoming as Michael sits beside him.

"Where are you headed?" he asks as he tries to get comfortable.

Alex huffs out a laugh. "Roswell."

Michael raises an eyebrow at that. As far as he knows, Alex hasn't been back to Roswell since he left. Michael doesn't go back as often as Isobel would like, but he does go home when he has the time to get away from MIT. He always tries to ask Liz, who is dating Max these days or Maria DeLuca about him, and while he knows that they visit Alex. Alex does not come home, it's a simple fact.

"Yeah, I know," Alex laughs some more. "But you know Liz and Max Evans are together now, right?"

Michael nods, his brother managed to convince Liz to give him a chance when she moved back home over a year ago. He doesn't say that though, since as far as the world is concerned, he is just friends with the Evans twins and not related.

"Well, she's pregnant," Alex confesses, and Michael gestures once more. He knows that Max has been happy-slash-freaked-out about his future half-human, half-alien spawn. Luckily Max had told Liz their little green secret before they got pregnant, much to Isobel's displeasure. Michael’s too, even though he understood Max wanting to tell the love of his life the truth. He looks at Alex and feels a spasm; deep down, he knows that if he were ever to risk telling his secret to a human, it would always be Alex Manes.

It's not the least bit logical, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"Anyway," Alex continues, oblivious to Michael's heavy thoughts. "Liz wants Rosa there for moral support when she tells Arturo, and Rosa called me from California asking me to come for a visit because, and this is a direct quote: ‘if I have to go back to the desert punk, so do you.’" Alex rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "And knowing Rosa, if I had said no, she would have flown to New York just to drag me home, so I figured I should save myself the hassle and just cave to her demands, she's scary when she’s annoyed."

Michael smirks. "Rosa Ortecho is like 5'2," he teases him.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Alex looks at him, unimpressed. "Because I lived with her for six years before she got tired of the east coast winters, and decided to head to SoCal. She might be tiny, but her rage is giant."

Michael laughs, and it grows as Alex gives him the stink eye at his amusement. He's more than ready to continue to tease him when his phone starts ringing. Looking down, he cringes at the caller ID. He's surprised Isobel has waited this long to call him back and yell at him for ending their call. Alex tilts his head to sneak a peek at his phone, making a sound in his throat when he sees the contact name.

“That wouldn’t be Isobel Evans, would it?” Alex questions, making another noise like a laugh when Michael nods, his finger hovering over the answer button. “So, do you want to keep teasing me about being scared of Rosa?”

Michael looks over at him. “At least Isobel is taller,” he tells him, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at him. Alex grins at him in a way that tells him that while he didn’t give in to his urge, Alex knows it, nonetheless. He rolls his eyes and presses the call button.

“Yeah?”

“You hang up on me!” Isobel yells into the phone. “And then you answer yeah,” she says, mocking him. She is loud enough that Alex can hear her, making him cover his mouth to keep her from hearing his laughter.

“Something important came up,” he tells her, looking at Alex. His heart ticking up when Alex raises a teasing eyebrow at him as he points at himself.

“And what’s that?” she demands, loudly.

Michael stares at Alex, locking eyes with him.

Alex holds his gaze, his lips parting as he stares at Michael, and he can only imagine what Alex sees on his face. “A beautiful boy, I used to have a crush on back in high school,” he answers, his gut clenching when Alex lets out a soft sound, his eyes wide as he looks at Michael.

Isobel takes in a sharp breath. “You don’t mean- “

“Yep,” Michael tells her, smiling when she swears. Isobel is the only person who knows about his decade-long feelings for Alex, and he appreciates that she instantly understands the depth of the situation.

“This is literally the only reason I accept you hanging up on me,” she tells him after a moment. “I want details the second you get here, which will be soon, right?”

“They still have us waiting,” he says, looking away from Alex, who is still watching him, with a considering look on his face and over to the screen where it’s again flashing that his flight to Dallas is delayed. “But they haven’t canceled the flight yet, so here's hoping we know something soon.”

Isobel makes a noise of agreement. “Okay, keep me posted.”

“I will,” he assures her.

“Okay,” she says again. “Go get your boy, is he still emo?”

Michael looks over at Alex again, deliberately checking him out. “More of a rocker vibe.”

Alex’s lip twitches.

“Hot?” Isobel asks, pleased.

Michael licks his lips, pleased when Alex tracks the movement. “He was always hot,” he tells her, smirking as Alex shakes his head even as he smiles, and there is a gorgeous blush working its way over his cheeks. Isobel laughs in delight as she says goodbye.

Michael presses end to the call and waits for Alex to say something, anything. He doesn’t look upset that Michael was blatantly talking about him. The way Alex’s brown eyes seem to have darkened, the soft press of his teeth to his bottom lip, tells Michael that Alex isn’t indifferent to him at all. That sexual tension they had as kids is still there for him too.

“So it seems we have a lot to catch up on,” Alex finally speaks, standing up. Michael does the same. “And something tells me that it will be better over drinks,” Alex continues with a glint in his eyes that makes Michael’s stomach flip. “Bar?”

Michael grabs the handle of his carry on and steps closer to Alex, his skin buzzing from being near him and the way Alex looks at him now, so similar to years ago. “Lead the way.”

*

 They don’t say much as they walk away from their gate, nor as they sit at the bar, waiting for his beer and Alex’s jack-n-coke. It’s only after their drinks are placed in front of them that Alex seems ready to talk.

“I have a lot of questions,” he admits as he sips his drink. “Especially after that phone call with Isobel, but I’m not sure how to start.”

Michael thinks for a moment, smiling when an idea comes to him. “20 questions?”

Alex lights up at the suggestion, nodding in agreement with a sly grin.

“I’ll go first,” he says quickly, which earns him an indulgent look from Alex. “Where did you go after high school?” he asks. He knows snippets from his friends when they mention him, but it’s never enough for Michael, who has been longing to know everything about Alex for years.

“I went to New York with Rosa,” Alex starts, turning in his stool to look at him. He tells him about arriving in the city with his friend, sharing a shitty studio apartment with her, working even shittier jobs, while taking online courses. He tells Michael about Rosa getting clean with time and pure grit.

Two Roswell outcasts against the world Alex tells him, smiling the whole time, and Michael can tell that while it obviously wasn’t easy being broke teenagers in New York, he loved every moment of it. “I would play my music in dive bars, and then one day someone heard me and asked if I wanted to write music with them, and I have been doing it ever since.”

“A songwriter,” Michael says with a smile, and Alex returns it brightly.

“I never wanted to be a rock star,” Alex tells him, chuckling as he waves at his clothes. “Despite my appearance. I just wanted to write songs and hear other people play them. I get to do what I love and keep my life private.”

“That’s amazing, Alex,” he says, happy of him. He remembers how little Alex smiled, and now in less than an hour of being in his presence, Michael thinks he’s seen him smile more than all the time he knew him.

“Thanks,” Alex says softly, looking down at his hands as he plays with his rings. He looks back at Michael from under the pieces of hair that have fallen in his eyes. “Your turn, did you go to UNM?”

Michael nods, blushing when Alex gives him a huge smile. “UNM for my undergrad, and now I’m at MIT working on my doctoral in Mechanical Engineering.”

“Dr. Guerin,” Alex teases gently, his smile beautiful. “Damn, Guerin, I always knew you would do amazing things with that big brain of yours.”

It’s Michael's turn to feel bashful as Alex looks at him proudly.

“And Cambridge,” Alex continues casually. “That’s only a few hours drive from New York, to think we’ve been so close all this time.”

Michael turns to look at him; there is a hint of a smirk on Alex’s otherwise neutral expression. “Next question, anyone special in your life?”

Alex tsks him. “You asked the first question. It’s my turn.”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope, you asked me if I went to UNM, and I answered, so it’s my turn again.”

Alex narrows his eyes at him, the hint of a smile on his face. “You sneak. Fine. Is there anyone special in my life?”

Michael nods, licking his lips as he waits in anticipation, letting out a breath when Alex shakes his head.

“New York has been a fun playground for this gay boy,” Alex grins wickedly with the confidence of a man who has discovered his hotness and uses it to his advantage; it sends a spike of heat through Michael. “Much better than Roswell, where I was the only gay kid, that was out anyway,” he says, shooting Michael a loaded look, letting him know that Alex hasn’t forgotten his talk with Isobel. “But no one serious, guess I'm still looking for a boy to love me."

Michael swallows down on the overwhelming urge to scream, 'I volunteer as tribute' like he's Katniss-fucking-Everdeen.

"Your turn to ask a question," he says instead, and instantly feels his hands sweat as Alex turns even further in his seat to thoroughly look at Michael.

Michael does the same, and their knees bump as he turns in his stool. Alex spreads his legs to accommodate him, but all it does is draw Michael’s attention to the fact that Alex's pants are tight and that his parted legs emphasize that little fact. Hiding nothing, like the fact that he's pretty sure Alex isn't wearing underwear under his jeans. Michael feels a little light-headed.

"Did you really have a crush on me back in high school?"

Michael’s head snaps up from where he'd been staring, swallowing hard around nothing. The bravery he had felt when he made the comment earlier evaporating in the face of a direct question. But as he looks at Alex, there is no playful smirk, no teasing, just an honest look on his face with a hint of hopefulness, Michael finds his bravery again and nods.

Alex lets out a breath. "That night in the shed?"

Michael makes a face at the memory. "Instant regret. The second I turned my face, I knew I was an idiot.”

Alex shakes his head. "I freaked you out," he reasons away easily.

"How much I liked you freaked me out," Michael corrects him, feeling warm from the inside out as Alex gives him a sweet smile in return. "You leaned in, and I realized ‘oh shit I like a dude,’" he grins as Alex lets out a chuckle. "Had my gay panic, which turned into my bisexual awakening in the days that followed, but by the time I realized it, you were gone."

Alex’s expression is full of understanding, soft, and kind. "Missed opportunity."

Michael nods, swallowing before he continues with his confession. "You're the one that got away,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle. “I think about it all the time, that if I could do it over again, I wouldn't turn away."

There is a glint in Alex's dark eyes that seems to make them glow; the soft smile on his face is a little amused and pleased. He looks at him for a moment, and Michael holds his breath as he seems to come to a decision. Alex places his hands on Michael's knees, leaning into his space, only stopping when he's a few inches away from Michael.

"Do-over?" he whispers, and he's close enough that Michael can feel his breath touch his face.

Michael thinks for a moment, he must be dreaming, has to be, but he doesn’t question it, because if it is a dream. It’s a dream come true. He closes the space between them, taking Alex’s bottom lip between his. The kiss isn’t tentative like a usual first kiss. There is no uncertainty from either one of them as Alex reaches up, his hands finding their way to Michael’s hair, and Michael slides out of his seat to step in between Alex’s legs. He grips Alex’s thighs and pulls him closer, relishing the sound Alex makes at the back of his throat. He wants Alex to keep making those kinds of sounds; he wants to be the reason for them. They say reality is never as good as your imagination, but the people who say that have obviously never kissed Alex Manes.

His lips are softer than his wildest dreams, and his taste is instantly addictive, he’ll never need acetone again if he gets to keep kissing Alex.

Alex licks into his mouth, and it’s Michael’s turn to let out a noise. He can feel Alex smile into the kiss, so he gives Alex’s thighs a hard squeeze for his smugness, earning a stinging bite that Alex soothes away with a swipe of his hot tongue.

Alex breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away from him; if anything, he holds him closer, his fingers gripping in Michael’s curls. “Fuck, Guerin,” Alex gets out, his voice rough. “You kiss all the boys like that?”

Michael grins, giddy from having the boy of his dreams in his arms, looking at him with those brown eyes of his that always, always, laid Michael low. “Just you, darlin’.”

Alex gives him a growing smile. “Sweet talker,” he teases, his hands leave Michael’s hair, and he cradles Michael’s face between them. “When did you get so smooth?”

Michael laughs, happier than he’s been in a long time. He's more than ready to get back to it, nothing else matters than Alex's mouth, when a voice booms over the speakers.

‘Attention passengers of American Airlines flight 157 Denver to Dallas, has been canceled. Passengers, please report to your gate for further information.’

"That's us, isn't it?" Michael makes a face, already dreading yet another lecture from Isobel.

Alex copies him. "Yep," he says as he runs a hand through his hair, making Michael realize that he hasn't touched it yet. He wants to. He wants to see if it's as soft and silky as it looks. "Rosa is going to bitch me out. She wanted me home earlier in the week."

Michael smiles. "I have the same conversation to look forward to with Isobel."

Alex gives him a half-smile and stands, grabbing his bag and then Michael's hand. "Let's go see what the plan is before we deal with those two."

Michael nods, picking up his carry-on. They leave a tip for the bartender and head for the information desk, waiting their turn as the people before them are dealt with. The young man that greets them, does it with an apologetic smile that tells them he has been saying sorry to a lot of angry people. Given that its December 22nd, so close to Christmas, Michael can’t imagine people being happy with their flights canceled.

He tries to listen as the man tells them that the weather report is saying that the snow should stop by midnight and that their flight is rescheduled for 8:45 am the next day. He tunes out as more apologies are uttered in their direction. His focus is on the fact that Alex hasn’t let go of his hand, his thumb running back and forth over the webbing between his thumb and his index, and he tries to suppress a shiver caused by the calluses of Alex’s thumb over the thin skin. Alex turns in his direction, giving him a knowing smile. He knows Michael isn’t paying attention. But how can he pay attention when he’s actually standing next to Alex? Holding hands with him after finally kissing him like he’s dreamed about for the last ten years.

Alex is lucky he’s not plastered to his back, his arms around him, clinging to him as he presses his face to his neck the way he really wants to.

“We have a shuttle bus that will take you to the hotel,” the attendant tells them, and Michael snaps out of his frankly embarrassing fantasy of living the rest of his days like Alex’s backpack. “Again, we’re so sorry for the inconvenience, sirs.”

“Please stop apologizing, you can’t control the weather,” Alex tells the man with a sincere smile, and the attendant turns a shade of pink. Michael can almost see the heart eyes he gives Alex.

He frowns at the man even though he gets it. It’s pretty much his reaction to Alex, but that doesn’t mean he likes other people reacting the same, especially when he’s right next to him. He shifts closer to him, giving the attendant a look that silently says, ‘back the fuck off.’

The flight attendant clears his throat nervously, darting his eyes away from Alex, looking at Michael with apologetic acknowledgment.

“The van will be outside waiting for you,” he tells them quickly. “Have a good night, sirs.”

Alex tugs at his hand as he begins to walk away. “Let’s go, Guerin.”

Michael follows along quickly, more than okay with Alex pulling him along by the hand. They get into the airport van that is waiting for them, and Michael realizes that the information he missed out while busy fantasizing about Alex, is that the airport is setting them up with rooms for the night to make up for the cancellation. They get to the hotel ten minutes later, and it only takes them that long because of the snow. The hotel isn’t anything special, but they’re quick to check them in, obviously ready for the influx of stranded passengers, and they get handed their room keys, both on the fifth floor.

He walks with Alex down a narrow hallway, stopping in front of room 515. Alex opens his door before turning back to him, shifting from foot to foot.

“I need a hot shower before I get yelled at by Rosa,” he says with a wry smile, and Michael realizes with a warm fluttering feeling in his chest that Alex is as nervous as him.

It makes him smile softly, and he’s pleased by the way Alex's shoulders seem to loosen. “Same,” he tells him. “Iz will probably have a lot to say.”

Alex chuckles softly before placing his hand on Michael’s chest, curling it around his coat and reeling him in. Michael steps into his space, meeting Alex halfway, kissing him back as he presses his lips against his in a soft, gentle touch. They take their time, neither deepening the kiss, just enjoying the press of their lips against each other. “Do you want to come back when you’re done getting yelled at?” Alex asks quietly against his mouth.

He pulls back to look at Alex, flushed skin, his dark eyes that glisten with hope and desire.

The answer to the question is obvious.

“Yes.”

 *

 After a shower and a lengthy conversation with Isobel that jumps back and forth between lecturing him for not leaving Massachusetts sooner and demanding details about Alex, Michael is finally back at Alex’s door. He runs his hand over his damp curls and takes a deep breath before he knocks, waiting as he hears Alex move around in his room.

The door opens to reveal a freshly showered Alex in nothing but a pair of grey sweats that ride low on his hips. Michael tries hard not to swallow his tongue.

He shoots him a smile with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Rosa, he mouths, stepping away to let Michael in.

Michael walks into the room, grateful that Alex is distracted, it gives him a moment to take Alex in. His back to him, he hears Alex give a vague uh-huh to his friend, followed by a yep. He runs his eyes over Alex, lingering on the smooth skin over lean muscle, the dip of his waist, and the pair of dimples on his lower back that leaves Michael’s mouth dry. He itches to step up to Alex and press himself against the length of his back.

He doesn’t hold back on the impulse and does just that, stepping up behind Alex, relishing the gasp he lets out as his hands clench his hips, he rubs his nose against the side of Alex’s neck, making a sound at the back of his throat as he takes in the smell of soap and underneath that, a scent so uniquely Alex, a little sweet, hot and addictive.

“Time to hang up, darlin’,” he whispers against his ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, grinning around it as Alex lets out a halting goodbye to Rosa, ignoring her protests. He spins around, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck.

“Menace,” he whispers, cutting Michael’s laugh short as he slams his mouth against his.

Michael groans, his hands tightening his hold on Alex, and he pulls him even closer, letting out another whining sound when Alex licks into his mouth. He runs his hands from Alex’s sides to his back, touching every piece of warm skin he can.

“Guerin,” Alex gasps for breath, his hands tugging at his shirt, and Michael lets go of Alex long enough to pull it over his head, dropping it on the floor. He stands still as Alex exhales a sharp breath, running his eyes over him in a way that feels like a touch. He wants more though, and when Alex’s hands hover hesitantly over his chest, he circles his wrists and gently presses them over his racing heart.

“You want this?” Alex asks, his hands caress his chest, a fingertip brushing against his hardened nipples, his body tightening at the sensation, and he swallows hard at the look Alex gives him in response.

“I have never wanted anything more,” he pauses, licking his lips nervously when Alex meets his eyes. “Then how much I have always wanted you,” he confesses, and it feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest when Alex gives him a gentle look that reflects the hope Michael knows is on his face.

Alex goes around him, and Michael turns around to watch Alex climb into the queen size bed. Laying back on a mess of pillows, he lifts his hand out to Michael.

“Come here,” he whispers, looking like all of Michael’s dreams come to life, and Michael doesn’t need to be told twice.

 *

 “Am I dreaming?” he whispers sometime later, his head on Alex’s chest, their legs intertwined under a sheet as they try to catch their breath. Their bodies are sweaty and sticky, but Michael doesn’t care, not when his body aches in the delightful way that only happens after a spectacular fuck.

Alex’s chest rumbles under his cheek as he laughs, his hand has been making a mess of his curls as he runs his fingers through them. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Michael grins into his skin, pressing a kiss into it, followed by a lick before he looks up at him. “Really?”

“Mmhmm,” Alex hums, wrapping his index finger around a curl, his nails scratch at Michael’s scalp softly, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from purring. “I used to daydream about your hair.”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s a lot more innocent than my daydreams; I’ll be real.”

Alex grins at him, tugging on a curl. “Well, I think you’ve proven by your earlier moves that you’re a dirty boy,” Alex jokes, and Michael throws him a smirk, proud as he remembers the way Alex gasped and begged when Michael rode him.

“I used to dream about it in Bio class,” Alex confesses. “You used to sit by the windows, and the light would hit your curls, making them glow. All I wanted was to sink my hands into them and play with them for hours.”

“That’s so sweet,” Michael teases to keep from melting on the spot, he’s already half in love with Alex, to know that Alex also thought of him back then, that he might feel some of what he’s feeling now, pretty much seals the deal on his feelings.

Alex gives a curl another tug, this one sharper, and Michael can't help the gasp that comes out. Alex stills his hand while Michael holds his breath.

"If we go another round, you're not going to sit comfortably on the plane in the morning," Alex warns him, heat flickering in Michael's belly from the promise in Alex's tone, and  Michael finds himself straddling Alex, feeling him harden under him.

"I couldn't care less," Michael says, grinding against Alex, a grin on his face when Alex lets out a curse and flips them over, his hand reaching for the small bottle of lube they used before.

"You asked for it,” Alex tells him. Michael would gloat about it, but as Alex touches him with wet fingers, pressing in, he finds himself without enough brain cells to be clever.

 *

 Michael isn’t sure if it’s that the airline is trying to keep them happy because of the canceled flight, or it’s just Alex’s smile that dazzles the flight attendant, leaving her powerless to his charm. But when they arrive at the airport for their morning flight, Alex asks if Michael can be bumped up to first class with him, and the flight attendant immediately upgrades him.

“That face of yours pretty much gets you whatever you want, doesn’t it?” he questions as they sit with their seat belts on, as the flight crew finishes going through their emergency procedures.

“I don’t know,” Alex says, turning his head to look at him. There is a sleepy look on his face, and Michael feels a sense of pride to think he wore him out. Their second round had turned into a third, and though Alex was right and he finds himself shifting in his seat to get comfortable, shooting Alex a look when he smirks, he can’t say he regrets it.  “Can I get anything I want from you?” he asks with a teasing look on his face.

“Probably,” he answers honestly.

Alex makes a sound, and Michael looks up at him, there is a look of surprise that turns soft. Alex takes his hand in his, running his thumb over the thin skin between his thumb and index finger. It makes Michael tremble.

“Sorry,” Alex murmurs, even as he doesn’t stop touching Michael. “Guitar calluses.”

“I don’t mind,” he answers, turning his hand palm side up so Alex can have more to touch.

“Do you still play?” Alex asks, studying his hand.

“Not as much as I would like,” Michael admits. Between work and classes, it doesn’t leave him much time. “When I do play, I think of you.”

Alex's hand stills over his, and he looks at Michael with big brown eyes that hold so much emotion. “You really mean that don’t you,” he whispers, leaning in closer, intertwining their fingers. “You still think about me.”

Michael breathes in, his heart pounding in his ears. A part of him worries that he’s coming on too strong. He’s had ten years to come to terms with the fact that he’s probably been half in love with Alex since he was a teenager. While Alex is just now realizing the torch Michael has been carrying. The other part of him though, the part that still can’t believe that he actually has Alex with him here and now. Can’t believe the night they just spent together isn’t a dream of his. That part is telling him that this is his second chance, and he needs to lay it all on the table if he’s going to have a shot at keeping Alex in his life this time around. “I always think about you, Alex.”

Shaking his head like he can’t believe it, Alex closes his eyes for a moment, but there is a smile on his face, and it gives Michal hope.

Opening his eyes, Alex looks at him in wonder, making Michael feel warm all over. “What do you think about?”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him with a smirk, laughing when Alex scoffs at him, though he sees a hint of a blush.

“Besides that, Guerin,” Alex rolls his eyes at him even as his mouth quirks upward.

He laughs softly, trailing off as Alex looks at him, waiting. “I think about your kindness,” he says quietly. “You gave me somewhere warm because I had nowhere to go. You gave me a guitar because you knew I liked to play, and you wanted to do something nice. You were kind to me for no reason.”

“I liked you,” Alex smiles sweetly, looking so much like the boy of years ago. “That was the reason.”

Michael squeezes his hand. "That was the first time someone gave me something that meant anything. I hated leaving it behind in the shed."

“You should have taken it,” Alex tells him with a soft smile. “I wanted you to have it; instead, it’s probably still in the shed collecting dust with all my other stuff. I know my dad had my brother Greg get rid of all my things inside the house, and instead, he put them in the shed. At least that’s what Greg told me the last time we spoke, but that was years ago, so maybe it’s all gone now.”

“You don’t talk to them, do you?” he questions, though given that Alex has never bothered to come back to Roswell, he probably knows the answer.

“My father is an abusive asshole who hates me for being gay,” Alex says matter of fact, there is no hurt in his voice like he came to terms with it a long time ago. “My older brothers follow his lead. Greg, who is two years older than me, is the only one who doesn’t care. He’s not supportive exactly, but he also doesn’t give a shit about me liking guys or the family drama. He went into the military like my other brothers, but it was to get away from everyone. We have that in common.”

Michael wants to put his arm around Alex; he wants to pull him closer and hold him until he eases the pain Alex carries from years of abuse and neglect. He hesitates for a moment, they’re on the plane, there are people around them, and maybe Alex doesn’t want his attention right now. After a moment, he decides what the hell. He pops off his seat belt, noticing that the light for it is off and moves to lift the armrest between them.

“What are you doing, Guerin?” Alex questions, frowning at him.

“I’m going to hug you,” he answers, ignoring the look Alex gives him.

“I’m fine,” Alex protests, while Michael shifts in his seat. “I’ve moved past the need for my father’s approval.”

“I know you’re fine, you’re great,” Michael assures him as he throws his arm around Alex’s shoulders and pulls him close. “You’re perfect, I just like touching you and don’t know if I’ll get to do this when we get to Roswell, so I’m taking advantage now.”

Alex scoffs halfheartedly, but indulges him anyway, and wraps his arms around Michael’s waist as he holds him. “You’re a lot more affectionate than I would have thought, but I like it,” he says, his words pressed against Michael’s jaw as he tilts his head. “And for the record, you can touch me all you want when we get to Roswell.”

Michael stills at the comment, and he tells his heart to calm the fuck down as it beats loudly. “Do you mean that?”

Alex, who has gotten as comfortable as you can on an airplane, first-class seats or not, lets out a hum as he uses Michael’s shoulder as a pillow. “Well,” he starts sleepily. “I guess this could just be a one night stand for you,” he pauses, and the hand at Michael’s waist gives him a soft squeeze. “But I’m going to take a leap of faith and say that’s not the case.”

“Leap away,” Michael says quickly, his pulse still racing.

Alex makes another noise like Michael has pleased and amused him with his quick response. He doesn’t say anything else and seems to be drifting off, but Michael can’t let the conversation go just yet.

“So just so I’m clear, this wasn’t a one night stand for you either, and it would be okay with you if I…” he trails off, not knowing how to continue.

He what? Touch Alex? Kiss Alex? Proclaim his undying love?

Alex huffs, and he lifts his head to look at him, he seems tired, but he leans in anyway and kisses him softly. He takes his time with it, only pulling back when they’re both breathless.

Michael exhales. “Yeah, that.”

Alex grins, his brown eyes dancing. “You sure you’re a genius, Guerin? Because you seem really slow on the uptake.”

Michael rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile that has taken over his face. “Go to sleep smartass. I obviously wore you out, and it’s made you crabby. I’ll wake you up when we land in Dallas.”

Alex looks like he wants to give another retort, but, in the end, seems to decide that sleep has more appeal and lays his head back on Michael’s shoulder, doing as Michael tells him.

 *

 They land in  Roswell after a short layover in Dallas; hand in hand, they make their way to luggage claim. Alex has been quiet since the wheels of the plane touched the ground.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently.

“I think so,” Alex wrinkles his nose at him, and it’s so damn cute Michael wants to lean in and kiss it. “It’s just weird being back; that’s all.”

Michael nods, he’s already asked him if he has plans to see his family, which made Alex laugh dryly before giving him an emphatic no.

“Is anyone picking you up?” Alex asks once they both have their bags and start to make their way towards the exit.

“Isobel, what about you?”

Alex’s mouth curves. “Rosa.”

Michael nods again, feeling a trickle of worry grow the closer they make it to the outside world. The last 24 hours have felt like a magical little bubble where only he and Alex exist. Michael can’t help but worry that the magic is going to disappear the moment it’s no longer just the two of them. He thinks some of his thoughts must play out on his face because Alex, who has been watching him, stops in his tracks and turns to him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, brushing away one of Michael’s curls away from his face, his brown eyes warm as he looks at him.

“Hi,” Michael whispers back, taking a breath as Alex places his hands on his waist and tugs him forward.

Alex smiles, leaning in to rest his forehead against his.

“Tell that busy brain of yours to calm down,” Alex whispers, and Michael tries not to make a big deal out of the fact that Alex seems to be able to read him like a book. He taps his index finger against Michael’s temple. “Okay? I can hear it from here.”

Michael breathes out slowly, earning himself another smile from Alex as he nods, his forehead still pressed against his. Alex doesn't let him go, seemingly comfortable with staying there in his arms as much as Michael, and it settles his nerves some more.

As far as he's concerned, they can stay like this forever.

Isobel, though, seems to have a different plan.

"Jesus Christ, did you two really make us wait until the last minute to get here, just to stare at each other in an airport?"

Michael turns his head to find his sister and Rosa Ortecho standing side by side, watching them with various degrees of judgment and amusement on their faces.

Alex lets him go, much to Michael's displeasure, and holds out his arms for Rosa, who breaks out into a grin as she jumps into his arms.

"Hey punk," she says into Alex's shoulder as she and Alex hold each other tightly.

"Hi love," Alex greets back with a breathtaking smile on his face.

Isobel slaps his arm, drawing back his attention to her. "I haven't seen you in months. Are you going to hug me, or are you too busy staring at Alex like in high school?" Isobel asks bluntly, drawing the attention of the two friends who are still hugging.

Rosa smirks in his direction, while Alex gives him a soft look, the tiniest bit amused.

Michael can feel himself blush. It's one thing to tell Alex in private that he had feelings for him back in high school. It's another to have Isobel air his dirty laundry like this.

He glares at her but softens when he sees the happy look on her face.

"Brat," he murmurs with affection pulling her into a tight hug.

"Loser," she mocks as she returns the embrace. "Come on, we have to get back to the house. I have pies to finish."

Michael hesitates when she tugs at his sleeve. She looks back at him and then over at Alex, rolling her eyes at both of them.

"Oh for God sakes Michael, you're going to see him later. Hi, by the way, Manes," she says, finally seeming to remember her manners.

Alex shakes his head, laughing. "Hey, Evans, you haven't changed a bit, I see."

Isobel raises an eyebrow at the comment, taking it for the challenge it is. "While you seem to have finally gotten over your unfortunate emo phase, good for you."

"Ooh, fashion burn," Alex smirks, a glint in his eye.

Isobel stares at him harder, glares at him, really, but Michael can see the hint of a smile on her face. Isobel has always appreciated a worthy opponent.

She turns back to him. "If you could, please stop acting like you're saying goodbye to your beloved before sending him off to war. Max is in charge of the kitchen, so we have to go before he burns it down."

"Give me a second to say goodbye."

Isobel rolls her eyes again, but lets go of his arm.

Michael turns back to Alex, who looks like he's trying very hard to keep from laughing. He grins back, having decided to irritate Isobel some more.

"I'll wait for you, my love," he says with a dramatic sigh.

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, taking a deep breath. "Though the future is full of peril, know that I'll think of you every moment we're apart."

Rosa chuckles just as Isobel lets out a disgruntled huff, glaring at both of them. "Great, he’s just as annoying as you, Michael.”

Alex smirks, obviously pleased.

“Perfect match,” Michael says quietly, not caring that Rosa shakes her head in laughter or that Isobel makes a gagging noise like the brat she is. Alex is giving him a soft smile, and that’s all that matters in the end. “See you later?”

Alex nods, his hand grips the front of Michael’s shirt, tugging him forward for a soft kiss. “Go have dinner with your friends. We can do something for Christmas day, just the two of us, okay?”

Michael nods, pressing his mouth against Alex’s once more. “Okay.”

 *

 Michael wakes up Christmas day to voices outside his bedroom at Max’s, sighing when he sees that it’s only eight a.m. and his siblings are already up, even though they were awake past midnight.

Grabbing his phone, he checks his messages and smiles when he sees that Alex left him a text around one a.m. saying Merry Christmas. Pocketing his phone, he makes his way towards the living room where Isobel is sitting with a cup of coffee in hand while making Max hold up a series of shirts against his body.

“What’s going on?” he asks, leaning down to kiss the top of Isobel’s head, stealing her cup in the process.

She gives him a dirty look but lets him get away with it, nodding towards a frantic Max.

“Liz dropped the baby bomb on her dad last night and text Max this morning that Arturo wants him over at the diner for breakfast and a discussion. So now he’s trying to find a shirt that says, ‘I’m sorry I knocked up your daughter out of wedlock; please don’t shoot me,” she finished explaining with a frankly evil smile on her face at their brother’s predicament.

“Max,” he says sharply, drawing his attention when it looks like he’s going to start freaking out even more than he already is. “Arturo is not going to shoot you.”

Max lets out a relieved breath while Isobel pouts at him for ruining her fun, which he answers with a wink.

“The man is a cook,” he continues, not bothering to fight the grin on his face. “He’ll poison you before he shoots you,” he finishes, smirking as Isobel lets out a loud laugh, and Max gives him an annoyed look.

“Comforting and helpful as always, Michael, thank you,” Max bitches at him, while Isobel continues to laugh.

Michael tips his head in Max’s direction, chuckling when Max walks away, mumbling under his breath about horrible siblings.

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out, to see a message, smiling when he sees it’s from Alex.

“Good morning. Liz told Arturo about the baby, and there’s a very awkward breakfast about to happen that  I don’t want to be here for. Want to meet up? I’ll bring coffee and donuts.”

He lets out an amused sound, shooting back a quick yes. Alex answers back just as quickly with an address and a heart emoji.

“Alex?” Isobel asks, startling him. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

He looks up to find her studying him. “How did you know?” he questions, getting an eye-roll in return.

“Because you’re smiling like an idiot,” she answers dryly, a smirk on her face when he glares at her. “It’s the same face you used to make when you would stare at him in high school.”

“Stop,” Michael whines, knowing where this is already going because he’s heard Isobel give Max the same lecture about Liz.

Isobel raises her hands in peace. “I’m happy that you’re happy,” she starts, and he can hear the but in her voice. “I’m happy that you’re reconnecting with him and getting the chance you missed in high school.”

“But?” he says for her, wanting to get to the point.

“But,” Isobel emphasizes, narrowing her eyes at him. “You and Max are more alike than either of you would like, and you have been carrying a torch for this guy forever, just like Max with Liz. There’s the big alien elephant in the room, and you have to be careful if you want to pursue something serious with Alex.”

Michael remains quiet for a moment knowing that she has a point. He learned how to control his powers a long time ago, and he’s never been serious about anyone to feel the need to share his secret with them. If there’s anyone on this planet that he would think about sharing it with, it would be Alex Manes, and that’s something he has to take into consideration.

“At least I can’t knock him up as Max did with Liz,” he answers jokingly, feeling a chill go down his spine when Isobel gives him a downright evil-looking smile.

“So you think.”

 *

 Michael arrives at the address Alex gave him, realizing as he pulls up that it’s Alex’s childhood home, given what he knows about Alex’s family, he’s more than a little confused. But Alex is there, leaning against a car with a coffee in his hand, so he parks and gets out, crossing the street to join him.

“I can’t believe you still have your truck,” Alex comments as he closes the distance between them, passing him a coffee cup. “Donut?”

Michael shakes his head. “I’ll take something else that sweet though,” he says, pressing his tongue to the corner of his mouth, as Alex rolls his eyes.

“Smooth,” Alex says sarcastically, even as he leans in to kiss him.

“It worked,” Michael says, a smug grin on his face, kissing him once more before pulling back. “What are we doing here? I would think this is the last place you would visit,” he points at the house, as he downs half his coffee in one go.

“No one is here,” Alex tells him. “From what I understand, none of my brothers came home for the holidays, and when my dad heard I would be in town, he decided to stay on the base.”

“Okay,” Michael says slowly, drinking down the last bit of his coffee. “Still doesn’t explain why we’re here.”

Alex smiles, taking his now empty cup and putting it into a paper bag, throwing it back in his car. He takes Michael’s hand and starts to walk towards the house, or well, the back of it. Michael starts to get an idea where this is going as he sees the old shed come into view.

“We’re going to find your guitar,” Alex says as he pulls out a set of keys, opening an old lock that doesn’t seem like it has opened in years.

“Alex,” Michael says softly, touched by the gesture. Yet another thing he’s been sorry about all this time. Leaving that guitar behind.

“I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it,” Alex says, turning to face him. “Because I wanted to give you something that mattered to you. I want you to have it back.”

Michael looks at him and knows he’s falling in love. He realizes now that all this time, his regret and the feeling of missed opportunity with Alex has really been him being in love with him this whole time, and now, less than three days of having Alex back in his life, he’s falling in love all over again.

Isobel is right; he and Max are more alike than he thought.

Alex pushes the wooden door open, and they find that the shed is much more crowded than before.

Alex has a grim smile on his face as he looks around at all his stuff, and Michael hurts for him. It must be horrible to know that the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally is perfectly fine with getting rid or hiding everything you are away because they can’t accept you as you are.

He steps up behind Alex and wraps his arms around him, pressing his face into his neck. He can feel Alex’s tense body start to loosen the longer he holds him. Finally, after another minute or two, Alex lets out a breath, turning around in his arms to face him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Michael’s.

Michael doesn’t say anything right away, he runs his hands up and down Alex’s back, only stopping when Alex pulls back, his expression more at peace.

“You know since we’re here,” he starts, grinning when Alex raises an eyebrow at his tone. His heart racing as he continues. “And this is the place of my greatest regret. Maybe we can recreate the moment so I can correct it.

Alex stares at him, the corners of his mouth lifting, and he leans in again, stopping halfway, his eyes sparkling with laughter and something else as he waits Michael out.

Michael exhales right before he covers Alex’s mouth with his. He’s already kissed Alex so many times, felt his body against his as they made love.

But being back in this place where it all started. It feels like what he thinks that first kiss would have felt like if he hadn’t turned his face. He pours all the feelings he had back then, all the feelings he’s had for the last ten years, and all the feelings he has now into the kiss, and hopes Alex understands how serious he is about them and just how much he wants this.

He’s so lost in the feel and taste of Alex, in this feeling that is bursting inside him, he doesn’t notice anything else and finds himself jumping when the door to the shed slams open.

Alex jerks back and Michael feels him freeze as he looks over his shoulder, his face paling at who he finds there.

Michael knows who it is without even turning but finds himself flinching when Alex speaks with fear in his voice.

“Dad…” Alex says quietly, stepping around Michael.

Michael turns around, and seeing the Master Sergeant’s face, he gets why Alex is standing protectively in front of him. The anger and disgust on the man’s face are like nothing he’s ever seen, even in all the years he spent in the foster care system, and he can admit that it sends a trickle of fear down his spine.

“How dare you,” Jesse Manes seethes, eyes full of fury locked on Alex.

Michael sees the hate there; it makes his stomach turn to think Alex grew up with this. “How dare you disrespect me with your perverted behavior-“

Alex sighs loudly, standing taller. “Here we go with your usual bullshit. This isn’t about you. We came for my guitar and then we’ll be out of your hair. Away with our perverted behavior,” Alex says mockingly, and Michael realizes too late it’s the wrong tone to take.

Faster than he thinks possible, Jesse crosses the room, his hand tight around Alex’s neck, slamming him into a beam in the middle of the shed. It’s obvious that Alex is caught off guard as much as him, his eyes wide as he tries futilely to push his father off him.

“You think you can talk to me like that!” Jesse shouts, his face red with rage. “You run away from home, from your obligations to this family, to live your disgusting lifestyle and then think you can come back and mouth off to me. I’ll teach you who is still in charge here.”

Jesse’s threat snaps him out of his shock, and he steps forward, trying to pull Jesse off Alex. Only for the man to shove him hard before going back to choke Alex, who is still trying to pull his father’s hand off his throat.

He hasn’t lost control in years, but Michael doesn’t think about it. All he sees is this monster who is hurting the person he loves, and in the next instant, Jesse is flying, slamming hard against a wall of the shed before slumping forward, knocked out from the impact.

Alex gasps for breath, hands on his knees as he coughs, his eyes wide as he stares at his motionless father. Michael is also breathing hard, a little lightheaded from the burst of energy he just used.

Still staring at his dad, Alex whispers. “Did you do that?”

Michael can feel his heart racing; it’s been so long since he’s felt this kind of fear.

“Michael?” Alex asks softly now, looking at him, and Michael feels like he could start crying because Alex doesn’t seem afraid of him. Shocked by the events of the last 10 minutes and a little apprehensive, but not scared.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Alex might not be scared, but Michael is terrified.

“How?” Alex asks with wonderment.

Michael runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Look, I know you have a lot of questions, and I swear I’ll answer them. But right now, we need to deal with your dad.”

Alex looks like he wants to argue but finally nods. “What do we do?”

Michael sighs, he knows who he has to call, and he hates that he has to involve her. Turning to Alex, he pulls out his phone. “I need you to trust me, Alex.”

“I do,” Alex says instantly, not realizing the relief his words give Michael.

Michael closes the space between them, slowly reaching for him, waiting for Alex to step back if he needs to, letting out the breath he’s been holding when he touches Alex, and he doesn’t flinch away. “Thank you.”

 *

 To say that Isobel is furious when she arrives is an understatement, she has a glint in her eye that tells him she’s seriously considering making his brain explode as the three of them stand in Jesse Manes’ bedroom, the man still unconscious on the bed after he and Alex got him into the house.

“I am going to kill you,” Isobel hisses, ignoring the worried look Alex sends her way.

“I know,” he answers, knowing there is a real possibility his sister might make good on her threat. “But right now, I need you to go into this asshole’s mind and make him forget everything that happened in the shed.”

“And what exactly did happened in the shed?” she questions, still furious.

“Michael and I were kissing,” Alex starts, not flinching when Isobel turns her glare onto him. “My dad came in; he attacked me and probably would have killed me since he rather have a dead son than a gay one. Michael saved me, using his powers.”

Isobel turns back to Michael, eyes flashing. “You told him.”

Michael opens his mouth, but Alex beats him to the punch again.

“Not yet,” he says, his tone clear that a conversation will be had. “But my dad did go flying across the room. So I’m guessing Michael can move things with his mind?” Alex finishes looking at him to confirm, a pleased smile on his face when Michael nods.

“You’re taking this very calmly,” Isobel says suspiciously, eyes narrowed as she studies Alex.

Alex lets out a laugh that sounds a little on the hysterical side. “I’m freaking the fuck out. Michael can move things with his mind. You apparently can make people forget things? And my father tried to choke me out, but…”

“But?” Isobel asks a little calmer, her expression softening as Alex mentions his father’s actions again.

“Michael would never hurt me,” Alex answers her with conviction, and if it weren’t for the very serious mess they have to clean up, he would pull Alex in his arms and kiss him.

“Great,” Isobel murmurs. “Like it wasn’t enough to deal with one brother’s epic romance, I now have to deal with two. Fine. Alex, does your father drink?”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, he’s a functioning alcoholic.”

“Lovely,” she says, staring down at the man with disgust. “You find a bottle of something strong. I’m going to make him believe that he came home and went on a bender. He won’t remember anything about the shed.”

Alex hesitates for a moment before leaving the room. Michael watches him go before turning to his sister.

“I’m not happy with this,” she starts.

Michael nods. “I know.”

“And Max is going to lose his shit,” she continues and he nods again.

She studies him in that way that always makes him think she’s reading his mind.

“But he has no leg to stand on,” she says after a moment. “He told Liz our secret too, and I like her, but I like Alex a little more.”

Michael can’t help but smile at that.

She looks at him, and there is a soft understanding look on her face. “I would have done the same if I loved someone as much as you love him.”

Michael swallows audibly, grateful for his sister; she smiles before turning back to Jesse with a calculating look.

“Now, to deal with this piece of shit and make sure he never puts a hand on Alex again.”

 *

 Max loses his shit and then some. Michael sits on his brother’s couch with Isobel, who is still nursing a headache from all the power she used, acetone bottle in her hand, and Liz, who has a hand on his shoulder, frowning at her boyfriend as he paces.

“How could you let this happen, Michael?” Max asks for the third time since he and Isobel got back.

Alex, much to Michael’s displeasure, had stayed behind to make sure there was no trace left of them. Michael only agreed to go since he needed to get a weak Isobel back home.

He opens his mouth to argue with Max, but it’s Liz who has slowly looked more and more irritated who jumps in.

“What exactly did you want Michael to do, Max?” she questions, her brown eyes narrowed, and Michael watches as Max looks back at her nervously. “Just stand back and let Alex’s father attack him?”

“Liz,” Max tries helplessly in the face of his girl’s anger.

“I, for one, am grateful Michael stepped in,” Liz continues, ignoring his pleading tone. “He saved Alex, who I might remind you since you seem to have forgotten, is one of my best friends.”

Michael catches Isobel’s eye, spotting a tiny smirk, as Max tries to appease an angry pregnant girlfriend.

“Liz, of course I’m happy Alex is okay,” Max tries, sighing loudly when he’s met with blank expressions from all three of them. “But now, Alex knows our secret, and we have to decide as a group what we are going to do about it.”

“You mean like when you told Liz our secret,” Isobel interrupts, shooting Liz an apologetic look that Liz waves away, she knows this argument already. “We didn’t decide that as a group, you just told her.”

“That’s different!” Max argues. “I’ve loved Liz since high school.”

Michael rolls his eyes at his brother’s cluelessness, noticing he’s not the only one, as Isobel and Liz do the same. It makes Michael blush to realize that his future sister-in-law might have been aware of his feelings all along.

“Him too,” Liz says, confirming his suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” Max asks, confused, looking over at him, making Michael sigh yet again.

“She means that you’re not the only one that’s been pining away for ten years,” Michael tells him, shooting the women in the room a glance when they look at him proud and a little amused at his confession, but he continues. “I’ve been in love with Alex since high school. So before you even suggest it, no, we’re not wiping his memory.”

Max stares at him; after a moment, his already wide eyes get bigger as he looks past him.

Michael turns in his seat to see what has drawn his attention, understanding the look on Max’s face when he takes in Alex standing by the doorway.

“Hi,” he says hesitantly as all four of them look at him, he seems to shake off his nervousness after a moment and gives them an unimpressed look. “You should really close your front door if you’re going to talk about your magic powers.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment before Isobel starts laughing. “I like you Manes, you know how to make an entrance, and I can appreciate that,” she says toasting him with her bottle of acetone before taking a drink that has Alex raising an eyebrow.

Liz gets up from the couch and crosses the room to her friend, pulling him into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he hears her asking Alex.

Alex nods, his focus on Michael as Liz checks him over, her hands touching his neck where there are some faint marks.

“I’m fine,” he tells the room. “I’ll be even better after Michael and I have that conversation he promised,” he finishes looking at him expectantly.

Michael stands up.

“Michael, I don’t think-” Max tries, quieting down when Liz and Isobel send him a quelling look.

“It’s not up to you, Max,” Michael tells his brother softly but firmly. Max looks at him, at Alex, and then finally at the two women in the room before letting out a sigh, nodding in acceptance.

“Okay, Michael.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, he turns to Alex, walking over to him as he watches him steadily. Liz squeezes Alex’s arm in solidarity before stepping away from them.

Standing in front of him, he holds out his hand, letting out a breath when Alex doesn’t hesitate to hold it. “Let’s go for a ride.”

 *

 They don’t speak as they drive to the desert, and Michael admires Alex’s restraint. If it were him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back. It’s only when Michael has parked his truck outside the entrance of the caves that Alex finally speaks.

“I heard you tell Max that you’re not erasing my memory,” he says easily, like talking about mind control is as normal as commenting on the weather. “So, I don’t think you brought me out to the desert to get rid of me either, but let me just say this is shady as fuck.”

Michael can’t help the soft laugh that passes his lips as he takes in the quirk of Alex’s mouth as he jokes, even though he catches the hesitation in Alex’s voice.

“You heard us, huh,” he says, getting a nod from Alex.

“Among other things,” Alex says meaningfully, and Michael swallows, remembering what he said about being in love with Alex.

“I meant that,” he says quietly, watching as Alex takes in a sharp breath.

“Michael,” he breathes, but Michael holds up a hand to stop him.

“Before we get to that, I promised an explanation,” he says, opening the door. Alex follows suit and gets out of the truck too.

“And I think the easiest way to do that is to show you,” he says, pointing at the caves. “If you trust me.”

Alex answers his question by slipping his hand in his, and Michael thinks there isn’t going to be a moment where he doesn’t keep falling in love with him.

Hand in hand, Michael guides him inside the cave; he knows the moment Alex spots the pods by the gasp he lets out. His hand slips from Michael’s as he takes a step forward. Michael stays behind, letting Alex step up close to them.

“We came down in the 1947 crash,” Michael starts, pointing at the pods as Alex looks back at him, his mouth dropping. “We stayed in these pods, in stasis until 1997 when we came out. Seven years old and no idea how we got here.”

Alex continues to look at him. “The three of you were found naked on the road,” he says like he remembers the story told throughout the years.

Michael nods, confirming his words. “We were put into a group home, none of us spoke, but after a few weeks Isobel and Max learned, and soon the Evans came and adopted them. I stayed behind.”

Alex gives him a pained look but stays quiet, letting him continue.

“I bounced around from foster home to foster home until I was brought back to Roswell when I was 11, reuniting with my brother and sister.”

Alex lets out a sound. “They’re your siblings?”

“Yeah,” Michael swallows around the lump of hurt he always carries from not being able to tell people that.

“And you’re,” Alex pauses, looking back at the pods in awe. “Aliens?”

Michael looks at him, the man he loves, who isn’t running away screaming yet. “Yes.”

Alex looks back at him, his head tilted to the side as he considers him. Finally, like Michael hasn’t just told him the craziest thing anyone has ever heard, he simply nods. “Okay.”

Michael knows the look on his face is incredulous because it can’t be that easy. There is no way it’s this simple. “Okay? That’s all you have to say? You don’t have questions?” he asks, his voice getting higher and maybe even a little hysterical.

Alex bites down on his lip, and Michael gets the distinct impression that he’s trying not to laugh at him.

“I have a million questions that we’ll get to later if you answer the most important one,” Alex starts, walking back towards him until he’s right in front of Michael, so close that their bodies touch.

“And what’s that?” Michael asks, gazing into Alex’s brown eyes, lost in their depth.

“Have you really loved me all this time?” Alex asks, his voice small and low like he can’t speak the words out loud.

Michael raises his hand, cupping Alex's jaw, his thumb going over Alex’s cheekbone, and he watches as Alex leans into the touch like he’s starved for it. Michael promises himself that if Alex lets him, he’s going to touch and love him every day. “I thought it was a crush, a missed opportunity that I couldn’t let go. But being with you, having you back in my life these last few days have shown me that I have been fooling myself.”

Alex grips his hips, pulling him in closer, and with eyes opened, presses his forehead against Michael’s.

“I love you, I’ve always loved you,” Michael whispers, his heart catching when he hears the laugh-sob Alex lets out before he kisses him. The kiss is salty from their tears, but it’s okay because Michael can feel Alex’s smile against his lips.

 One year later

 “I can’t believe you assholes are doing this again,” Isobel complains over the phone. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You two should be here by now.”

Michael rolls his eyes, Isobel has said the same thing three times now. He feels the top of his body shake, and he looks down at the man on top of him as he laughs silently.

Alex looks up from where he’s resting his head on Michael’s chest and grins at him, with eyes full of laughter. Michael narrows his eyes at him. He doesn’t understand why he should be the only one getting yelled at when it’s just as much Alex’s fault.

“I told you to turn off your phone like I did,” Alex says softly, smirking as he hears Isobel rant some more through the speaker about how they are going to miss Christmas and how hard she’s worked to make it special since it’s the baby’s first.

“Michael, are you even listening to me, or are you staring at your boyfriend?”

“No to the first, yes to the second,” he answers, biting down on his lip when Isobel screeches over the phone.

Alex rolls his eyes, holding out his hand for Michael to pass him the phone, which Michael gladly does, pouting when Alex presses the speaker button. So much for letting him out of the conversation.

“Isobel,” Alex starts. “They’ve cleared the snow, and we already got news from the airline that our flight is in a couple of hours, we’ll be in Roswell by tonight, which I would like to remind you is the 23rd.”

“If you hadn’t stopped in Denver again, you’d be here already,” Isobel states, not ready to give up the argument.

“We wanted to celebrate our first anniversary in the place we reconnected,” Michael argues, closing his eyes when Alex runs his hand down his side to calm him down.

Isobel makes a disgruntled noise over the phone. “I’m disgusted by your love,” she says, annoyed. “Aren’t you over the honeymoon phase already? You’ve been living together for almost ten months now since Alex moved to Boston to live with you. You’re so annoying.”

Michael opens his mouth, but Alex presses his hand against it, shaking his head at him as a wicked smile takes over his face.

“How’s the Wild Pony, Isobel?” Alex asks unexpectedly, his smile growing when Isobel makes a startled sound.

“How should I know?” Isobel shoots back quickly, and Michael raises an eyebrow at that. Alex just continues to smile like the cat that ate the canary.

“A little bird told me, you’ve been hanging around those parts,” Alex continues, every word full of innuendo. “In the bar and the apartment above.”

Michael's eyes widen as he realizes what Alex is alluding to.

“Holy shit! You and DeLuca, Iz?”

Alex's grin is so wide, Michael thinks his cheeks must hurt.

Isobel is quiet only for a moment. “I will melt your brain, Manes,” she hisses into the phone, and proving that his superpower is to be unafraid of Isobel, Alex laughs easily. “I will melt it into goo.”

“Sure you will,” Alex answers mockingly, and Michael shakes his head at the recklessness. But this is the way Alex and Isobel have been since he and Alex started dating. He’s pretty sure they’re nemesis and each other’s best friends. “Listen, I have your brother naked in the hotel room we first got together in, and three hours until we have to get to the airport. So I’m going to hang up now, and have my wicked way with his delicious body,” he finishes, chuckling as Isobel lets out a disgusted sound.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Alex says, still laughing, but the sincerity is evident, and it calms Isobel down.

“Jerk,” she mutters after a moment. “Fine, text me when you're in Dallas to make sure your flight is on time.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, what you had shipped got here yesterday.”

Alex smiles. “Perfect, thanks Isobel. See you in a couple of hours,” he says, hanging up the phone.

“What did you have shipped?” Michael questions, his hands going to Alex’s hips as he throws a leg over Michael’s waist.

“Your Christmas present,” Alex answers him, leaning down for a kiss.

Michael hums into it. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Alex shakes his head, his lips a hair-breath away from Michael’s. “Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

Alex gets a look on his face that promises a good time. “Tell you what, you have until we have to get to the airport to get it out of me.”

Michael feels his body respond to the challenge and knows Alex feels it against his thigh by the smirk on his face.

Rolling them over, he gets to work, smothering Alex’s laughter that later turns to moans with his kisses.

He doesn’t get it out of him, but he has fun trying.

A day later, when they’re with their family, he holds Alex’s present in his hand. A beautiful guitar, so similar to the one Alex tried to give him years ago. When Alex leans in halfway, his eyes full of love, Michael doesn’t miss his moment, and this time presses his lips against his.

[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- Croatoan (2.09)

🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Olive Winchester (sister OC)

Summary: After Sam sees something in a vision, the siblings set out. The case tests their bond, and Dean reveals a startling secret

(tbh i think you can tell how much tv i watch based off how i write descriptions LMAO)

Warnings: cursing, blood, uhh it’s a virus so maybe don’t read if current events are freaking you out, death, some shooting, guns, uhh, so much blood, olive growls a lot i felt like a furry writing this, uhh, idk, the usual

Word Count: 6719

I snorted at Dean’s joke as I pushed the motel door open, tossing the keys onto the table by the window. Dean shut it behind me, and Jinx came running, howling and whining. I looked up to see that the room was empty.

“Sam?”

He popped up between the beds, panting. I shoved the bag of beef jerky into Dean’s hands and ran to Sam, kneeling beside him.

“Sammy?”

“Sam?” Dean joined me, eyebrows creased in concern.

“No…”

                                                             ***

“Continue on OR 224 West.”

“There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove.”

“How come you’re so sure it’s the one in Oregon?” I asked, running my hand through Sam’s hair.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Uh, there was a picture. Crater Lake.”

“Alright, what else?” I coaxed.

“I saw a dark room, some people. A guy tied to a chair.”

“And I ventilated him?” Dean asked, glancing over and then back at the road.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “You thought there was something inside of him.”

“What, a demon? Was he possessed?”

“I don’t know.” Sam whispered.

“It’s okay.” I cooed, hand still in his hair.

My arm was hooked around the back of the bench and I was propped up on my own feet, but playing with each other’s hair was something the three of us always did to calm each other. Jinx was standing on her hind legs and pawing at my hands.

“Well,” Dean sighed. “Your weird-ass visions are always tied to Yellow-Eyes somehow… was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Nothing, you just plugged him. That’s it.”

“Well, I’m sure there was a logical explanation.” I shot Dean an anxious look.

“I sure hope so.” Sam mumbled.

“What does that mean?”

Sam said nothing, and I looked at Dean again, chewing at my bottom lip.

“I mean, I’m not gonna waste an innocent man.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and I glared at him.

“I wouldn’t!” Dean protested.

“I never said you would!” Sam hissed.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Boys!” I took my hand away from Sam’s hair and sat back down with an angry huff. 

Jinx let out a loud whine, curling up in the backseat.

I sighed. “Cut it out. Look, we don’t know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair is a part of it. So let’s find him, and let’s see what’s what.”

“Fine.” Dean frowned.

Sam scowled. “Fine.”

                                                              ***

I shivered as we walked across the patchy lawn, toward an older man, who was cleaning his rifle. Jinx pulled on the leash, and Sam cleared his throat as he pulled back. I could barely manage her at this point.

“Morning.” Dean greeted.

“Good morning.” The man set the rifle down. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” Dean flashed his badge. “Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, Dani Mitchell. U.S. Marshals.”

The man eyed me and then Jinx, and Sam cleared his throat. “She’s a trainee, she’s at the top of her class. This is Jinx.” He motioned to the dog. “She’s also in training.”

“What’s this about?”

“We’re looking for someone.” I spoke, looking up at Sam.

“A young man, early twenties.” He blinked, hard. “Uh, he’d have a, uh, a thin scar right below his hairline.”

“What’d he do?”

“Well, nothing. We’re actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us.”

“He’s not in any sort of trouble or anything.” I eyed the man. “At least not yet.”

Dean’s head tilted ever so slightly, and a small grin flashed over his face. My own lips twitched into a smirk. He had just found us a way in.

“I think maybe you know who he is… Master Sergeant.” He smiled. “My dad was in the Corps. He was a Corporal.”

The man’s face softened. “What company?”

“Echo-2-1.”

Sam and I looked at each other, then back to the man. “So can you help us?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Duane Tanner’s got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does.” Dean smiled. “You know where he lives?”

“With his family. Up Aspen Way.” The man pointed.

“Thank you.” Dean nodded his head.

We turned on our heels and started back toward the car. I couldn’t shake the bad feeling in my stomach. I looked over my shoulder, only to see the man staring at us with a nasty glare. I stumbled over a crack in the road, and Dean snatched me back onto my feet.

“You okay, Ol?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just got a bad feeling.”

Sam was already across the street, staring at something on a telephone pole.

“Sams?”

He waved us over and pointed.

CROATOAN

“What’s that?” Dean frowned.

I huffed. “Roanoke.”

Dean stared blankly.

“Dude. Lost colony? Ring a bell?”

Dean shook his head, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Did you even pay attention in history class?” I squinted.

“Yeah!” Dean scoffed defensively. “Shots heard round the world, how bills become laws…”

I giggled. “That’s not school, De.”

“That’s Schoolhouse Rock.” Sam scoffed.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America. What was it, late 1500s?” I looked up at Sam.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean frowned. “Yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree.”

“Croatoan.”

“Yeah. And I mean, there were all these theories. Indian raid, disease.”

“Nobody knows what happened. They were just gone. Wiped out, overnight.”

“You guys don’t really think that’s what’s going on here… do you?”

I sighed and looked up at the boys. “Sams? What do you think?”

“Whatever I saw, it wasn’t good. But what do you think could do that?”

“I mean, like Dean said, all of your weird-ass visions always have something to do with Yellow Eyes.”

“We should get help.”

“Bobby? Ellen, maybe?”

I shrugged. “I can call Ellen, you call Bobby.”

Dean nodded, fishing his phone out. I dialed Ellen’s number, but the call wouldn’t go through.

I frowned and showed it to the boys. “No signal.”

Sam and Dean shook their heads. They didn’t have any either.

Dean looked around and whacked us each on the arms. “Payphone.”

Dean picked it up and held it out. I stood on my toes to hear. It beeped, the usual out of service beep that came with old phones. The boys looked at each other, and Dean clicked the receiver multiple times.

“Line’s dead.” I sighed.

Dean hung up the phone. “I’ll say one thing, if I were gonna massacre a town, that would be my first step.”

                                                            ***

I shuffled into step behind Sam and Dean as we made our way toward the cabin. I looked around as Dean huffed. We had left Jinx in the car. This looked like the place to get murdered, and we didn’t want her there if that happened.

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” I mumbled.

Sam sighed and knocked on the door. We stared at the tacky sign that read born to fish, forced to work, hung by the door.

“Yeah?” A boy my age opened the door, staring with dead eyes.

I shifted closer to Dean, feeling like I was about to be sick.

Dean flashed his badge. “We’re looking for Duane Tanner. He lives here, right?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother.”

The boys and I shared a look before we turned back to the boy.

“Can we talk to him?”

“Oh, he’s not here right now.”

Dean sighed. “Do you know where he is?”

“Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake.”

“Are your parents home?” Sam squinted.

“Yeah, they’re inside.”

“Jake? Who is it?” Mr. Tanner shuffled out into the doorway, standing by his son.

“Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir. We’re looking for our son, Duane.”

“Wh-why?” Mr. Tanner’s eyes got wide, but he too, looked like there was nothing inside.

I cleared my throat and inched further away, bumping into Dean’s side. His hand landed on my shoulder as Mr. Tanner spoke again.

“He’s not in trouble, is he?”

“No, no, no.” Dean shook his head. “We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that’s all.”

“When’s he due back from his trip?” Sam forced a polite smile.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, maybe your wife knows?” I piped up.

“No, I don’t know.” Mr. Tanner began to stumble over his words. “She’s not here right now.”

“Your son said she was.” My eyes narrowed.

“Did I?”

I couldn’t stop the confused scowl that danced over my face as I looked back at Jake.

“She’s getting groceries. So, when Duane gets back, there’s a number where he can get a hold of you?”

“Oh, no.” Dean shook his head and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back. “We’ll just check in with you later.”

We turned and walked down the steps. The door slammed shut before we made it back onto the dirt path. Dean turned with a furled lip, and Sam looked uneasy.

“That was creepy.”

“Yeah. A little too Stepford?” Dean offered.

“Big time.” Sam agreed.

We looked around, noticing that these people had no neighbors within at least a mile. Dean and Sam shared a look, and I caught Dean’s eye, nodding.

“Stay behind me.” He ordered as he pulled his gun out.

Sam and I followed suit, leaving me, as usual, sandwiched between the two. Dean led the way, sneaking around to the back of the house. Dean cleared his throat before setting himself up. I flinched as he kicked the back door down. We rushed in, guns raised.

Tanner came at us with a knife, but Dean reacted faster, shooting him at least three times, shredding his chest to pieces. The boy jumped through the window, leaving glass shards as he darted off into the woods. I lined up my shot, but before I could pull the trigger, Sam knocked my gun from my hands. I jumped with a squeak, and Dean was immediately at our sides. He pulled me into his chest and stared at Sam, panting.

                                                            ***

Sam helped Beverly out of the backseat as Dean and I popped the trunk, eyes darting around every few seconds. The wind howled, and I jumped, growling back. Jinx was standing by my side, a similar growl leaving her mouth.

Dean sighed as he grabbed my arm. “You’re okay. Come on.”

I slammed the trunk shut as Dean grunted, shuffling under the weight of Tanner’s dead body. I walked two steps ahead of him, pushing the door of the clinic open and holding it for him. We walked down the hall, apprehensive as we turned the corner and rounded into a room. Jinx ran straight into Sam, who squatted and patted her head.

“Is that…”

“Mr. Tanner.” Dean cut the woman in the white coat off.

“Was he attacked too?”

“Uh… no, actually.” I sighed. “He did the attacking and got himself shot.”

“Shot?” She repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Who are you?”

“U.S. Marshals.” I flashed my badge.

“Oh. Bring him back here.” The doctor beckoned for us to follow.

                                                            ***

I watched, leg bouncing up and down as Dr. Lee helped Beverly with her wound.

“Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?”

Beverly nodded. “They beat me. Tied me up.”

“I…” The secretary, Pam, sighed. “I don’t believe it.”

“Pam.” Dr. Lee warned. “Beverly… do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?”

“No, of course not!” Beverly shook her head. “I don’t know why! One minute they were my husband and son.” She sniffled. “And the next, they had the devil in them.”

My eyes widened and I looked up at Dean. He shot the same look back before nodding at Sam, then jerking his head to the side over his shoulder.

“Those guys were absolutely fucked.” Dean whispered.

“What do you think? Multiple demons? Mass possession?”

“If it is a possession, there could be more. I mean, fuck knows how many. Could be like a fucking Shriner convention.”

“Great.” I sighed.

“Of course, that’s one way to wipe out a town. Take it from the inside.”

“I don’t know, man. We didn’t see any demon smoke, or any of our other usual cues.”

“Well, whatever.” Dean scowled.

“Something turned him into a monster, Sams.”

“And you know, if you would’ve let Olive take care of the other one, there’d be one less to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, alright! Dean, it was a kid!”

“No, it was an it. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sammy.” Dean scoffed.

Dr. Lee came out of the room, heels clicking loudly. The three of us whipped around, clearing out throats.

“How’s the patient?”

“Terrible!” Dr. Lee sighed. “What the hell happened out there?”

“We don’t know.” Dean told the truth.

“Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor.”

“We didn’t have a choice.”

“Maybe so… but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner.”

“Phones are down.” I shook my head.

“I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?”

“We do. But it’s fried, just like everything else.”

Dr. Lee sighed. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“How far is it the next town?” Dean looked up, thinking.

“It’s about forty miles down to Sidewinder.”

Dean nodded. “Alright. We’ll go down there, see if we can find some help.” He looked down at me, then clapped Sam’s shoulder. “Sam here’ll stick around, keep you guys safe.”

“Safe from what?” Dr. Lee squinted.

“We’ll get back to you on that.”

                                                            ***

“What the fuck?” I mumbled as Dean stopped the car.

The Oregon plates on the totalled car read WTF 4C7. We shared a look, and I huffed. He tucked his gun into his waistband, and I did the same. We got out of the car and gave each other another look.

Watch each other’s backs.

He took the lead as we stalked toward the SUV. The windows were smashed. I flinched as we circled the car. The seats were covered in blood, and the baby seat in the back was drenched. I shuddered and looked over to the other side of the car. Dean was nowhere to be seen.

My gun immediately went back up and I bared my fangs, letting the stream of blood fall down my chin. I slowly made my way around the front of the car, hands shaking.

“Shit.”

I huffed as I recognized Dean’s voice. I swung around to face the driver’s door. Dean eyed me from his spot on the ground, a bloody bowie knife in his hand. I let my gun go slack as I sighed, and he stood, dropping the gun.

“Did you see all that blood?” I asked, shivering.

“Yeah. Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

                                                            ***

“Oh, son of a bitch.” Dean groaned as he pumped the brakes.

I sighed as he stopped the car. The bridge out of town was blocked by trucks and SUVs, and there were six or seven guys with rifles circling around. Dean looked over at me, and there was a thump on the roof of the car. Dean jumped, and I snarled. Dean’s hand slapped over my mouth as a man leaned in through Dean’s window.

“Oh, hey, hi.” Dean stuttered.

“Sorry. Road’s closed.”

“Yeah, we can see that.” I spat, shoving Dean’s hand away.

He shot me a glare and turned back with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Quarantine.” The man eyed me.

“Quarantine? What is it?”

“Don’t know. Something’s going around out there.” The man kept his eyes on me.

“Uh huh.” Dean shifted, blocking me from his view. “Who told you that?”

“County Sheriff.”

“Is he here?” Dean asked.

“No. He called.” The man looked around Dean, eyes locking back on me.

I grabbed a fistful of Dean’s jacket. The sheriff couldn’t have called. The phones were still down.

“Say, why don’t you get out of the car and we’ll talk a little?”

Dean chuckled, nervous. “Well, you are a handsome devil, but I’m on the clock here.”

“I’d sure appreciate it if you got out of the car. Just for a quick minute.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s arms tightened on the wheel, and I reached for the gear knob. “I’ll bet you would.”

I pulled it into reverse and Dean swung the car around. The man reached in and grabbed Dean by the collar before we could take off. The men at the roadblock began to shoot, and Dean gunned it, swerving the car and shaking the man off. I panted as we drove off.

                                                            ***

“What the fuck is going on?” I hissed.

“I don’t know, pumpkin.” Dean sighed. “Can you control yourself right now?”

I sighed. “Barely. If I get spooked one more time I might snap.”

“I’m right here. Okay?”

I nodded as he gave me a soft smile. I glanced back at the road and yelped.

“Dean, stop!”

Dean slammed the brakes as Mark stepped into the middle of the road, rifle aimed at us.

“Hands where I can see them!”

“Son of a-”

“Get out of the car!” Mark screamed. “Out!”

I kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help the low growl that was beginning to rumble in my throat. Dean eyed me as he pushed his door open.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’re okay. Easy there, big guy.”

Mark’s eyes flickered to me, and that was all Dean needed to whip out his gun. “Alright, put it down!”

“Lower it now!” Mark shouted back.

“Put it down!”

“Are you one of them?” Mark stalked closer.

“No! Are you?” Dean inched closer to me.

“No!”

“He could be lying, Dean.”

“So could you!”

“Alright!” Dean huffed. “Alright. We could do this all day, alright? Let’s just… let’s take it easy before we try to kill each other.”

Mark sighed and lowered his gun. Dean did the same, and I shuffled into his side, swallowing the blood in my mouth.

“What’s going on with everybody?”

Dean shook his head. “We don’t know.”

“My neighbor… Mr. Rogers, he-”

I snorted, and Dean blinked. “You’ve got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?”

“Not anymore.”

Dean and I shared a look, and I held back a laugh.

“He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He’s not the only one. It’s happening to everyone.”

Dean nodded. “Look, we’re heading out to the doc’s place. There’s still some people left.”

“No. No way. I’m getting the hell out.”

“There’s no way out.” I snorted. “They’ve got the bridge covered.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Dean shrugged. “Fine. Stay here. Be our guest.”

Mark eyed us and sighed. He put his rifle down and pulled a handgun out, warily pointing it at Dean. I took Dean’s from his hand and pointed it at Mark as we shuffled toward the car.

“Get in the back.” I motioned with the gun.

He slid into the back, the gun still pointed at Dean. I sat sideways in the passenger seat and kept Dean’s gun trained on his head.

“Well…” Dean huffed as he shut the door and started the car. This oughta be a relaxing drive.”

                                                            ***

I was stuck to Dean’s side, gun still on Mark. He kept his on Dean, and I was growing increasingly angrier.

“Sammy!” Dean pounded on the door. “Open up!”

The door swung open, and I heard Sam stumble for words. “Did you guys, uh… get to a phone?”

“Road’s blocked.” I didn’t turn to him.

“We’re gonna have a word. Doc’s inside.” Dean spoke to Mark, pulling me along with him as we shuffled into the building.

Mark put his gun down and continued down the hall, and the boys and I stayed by the door. Dean tugged his gun from my grip, and Sam nudged me.

“What’s going on out there?”

“We don’t know. I mean, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man. Sarge is the only sane person we could find, and Olive keeps bugging out.”

“I can’t stop it. Something’s putting me on edge and I can’t control it.”

“Sammy, what are we even dealing with?” I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Doc thinks it’s a virus.” Sam tugged his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders.

“Okay, great. What do you think?”

“I think she’s right.” Sam sighed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “And I think the people infected are trying to infect others.”

“How?”

“Blood-to-blood contact. And get this. The virus? It leaves traces of sulfur in the blood.”

“A fucking demonic virus?”

“Yep. It’s like demonic germ warfare. At least it explains why I’ve been having visions. Probably why Ollie’s on edge, too.”

“It’s like a Biblical fucking plague.” Dean grumbled.

“You have no clue how right you are. I’ve been poring through Dad’s journal, found something about the Roanoke colony.”

“What?” I looked up.

“Dad thought Croatoan was a demon’s name. Sometimes known as Deva or Resheph.”

I sighed. “Resheph was the Egyptian personification of the fucking plague.”

“Well, that’s fucking terrific.” Dean grumbled again. “Why here? Why now?”

“I have no idea. But guys, who knows how far this thing can spread? We’ve gotta get the hell out of here. We’ve gotta warn people.”

Dean sighed, a weary look on his face. I huffed.

“He’s right, Dean. We have to let Bobby know. E-Ellen, Jo. Any other hunter. This is big. We can’t stop it alone.”

“They’ve got one! In here!”

The three of us jumped before scrambling into the next room. Mark was pointing at Beverly through the window. Dean squinted.

“What are you talking about?”

“The wife. She’s infected.”

“We’ve gotta take care of this.” Mark sighed. “We can’t just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she’ll get.”

Dean only paused for a second before pulling his gun and stalking into the lab. Sam and I scrambled to follow with eyes bulging out of our heads.

“What do you mean you’re gonna kill Beverly Tanner?”

“Wait, hold on.” I blurted as we walked in. “Could there be any kind of treatment, Doc? Maybe some kind of cure for this?”

“Can you cure it?” Dean repeated.

“I don’t even know what it is.”

“I told you, it’s just a matter of time before she breaks through.”

“Just leave her in there. You can’t shoot her like an animal!” Pam cried.

“Sam. Olive.” Dean called for us as we walked over to the door of the utility room.

Dean and I pulled our guns out, and Mark shakily did the same. Sam carefully opened the door, only to reveal Beverly on the floor, knees drawn to her chest. She jumped at the sight of us and began to sob.

“Mark, what are you doing? Mark, it-it’s them! They locked me in here! They tried to kill me! They’re infected, not me! Please, Mark! You’ve known me all your life! Please!”

“Are you sure she’s one of them?” I whispered.

Sam nodded, baby face twisted in pure distress. Mark let his arm go slack as he took a step back. Dean sighed, and I shook my head. I clenched my jaw and fired twice.

                                                            ***

Mark peered through the shades. I finished sharpening Sam’s knife before handing it back to him. Dean was loading his gun. Jinx was curled at our feet, whining. A vial shattered, and there was a scream.

“Oh god! Is there any on me? Am I okay?”

“You’re clean, you’re okay.” Dr. Lee reassured her.

“Why are we staying here?” Pam squealed. “Please, let’s just go!”

“We can’t, because those things are everywhere.”

Pam slumped down to the floor with a whine, and Dr. Lee knelt beside her.

“She’s right about one thing.” Sam whispered. “We can’t stay here. We’ve gotta get out of here. Roadhouse, maybe?” He shook his head. “Somewhere. We have to let people know what’s coming.”

“Yeah, good point.” Dean sighed. “Night of the Living Dead didn’t exactly end pretty.”

“Well, I’m not sure we’ve got a choice.” Mark huffed. “Lots of folks up here are good with rifles. Even with all your hardware, we’re easy targets. So unless you’ve got some explosives…”

Sam sighed, and his eyes widened as he realized something. I looked up at him and followed his line of sight. Dean looked at us, confused.

“We could make some.”

“Yeah.” Sam started for the high shelf and went for the bottles of Potassium Chloride.

Someone started to pound on the door, and the three of us scrambled back just as Mark swung the door open.

“It’s Duane Tanner!”

Duane limped in, backpack swung over his shoulder. “Thank God.”

“Duane, are you okay?”

Dean and I turned to Sam.

“Is that… the guy that… Dean…” I slowly slashed a hand across my throat as Dean let out a whistle.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, there, chief.” Dean grabbed Duane’s arm. “Hey, Doc! Come give Duane a good once-over, would you?”

“Pam?” Dr. Lee called as she led us into the examination room.

“Who are you?” Duane fussed against Dean’s arm.

“Never mind who I am.” He shoved him into the room. “Doc?”

“Yeah, okay.” She eased.

“Duane. Where’ve you been?” Mark questioned.

“I was on a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon. I… I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house. By people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran! I’ve been hiding in the woods ever since… has anybody seen my mom or dad?”

Dean swallowed and turned to us. “Awkward…”

Duane sat on a stool, and Dr. Lee groaned.

“You’re bleeding.”

Dean took a step forward. “Where’d you get that?”

“I was running, I must’ve tripped.”

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “Tie him up, there’s rope in there.”

“Wait!” Duane got to his feet.

Dean, without hesitation, pulled his gun. “Sit down!”

“I’m sorry, Duane.” Mark untangled the ropes. “He’s right. We’ve gotta be careful.”

“Careful? About what?”

“Did they bleed on you?” I squinted, feeling uneasy.

“No! What the hell? No!”

“Doc, is there any way to know for sure? Any test?”

Dr. Lee sighed. “I’ve studied Beverly’s blood-work backwards and forwards.”

“My mom!” Duane sat up.

“It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn’t appear in the blood until then, so… no. No, there’d be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns.”

“Guys, I’ve gotta talk to you. Now.” Sam pulled on our sleeves.

Dean and Mark shared a look before Sam dragged us out.

“What’s going on, Sams?”

“This is my vision. It’s happening.”

“Yeah.” Dean huffed. “I figured.”

“Okay, well, what do we do so that it doesn’t turn out the way it did?”

“We can’t kill him. We don’t know if he’s infected or not.”

“Well, I think we’re pretty damn sure, Sam. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he’s got a cut on his leg, his whole family’s infected?”

Sam sighed. “Alright, then we should keep him tied up, we should wait and see.”

“For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance.” Dean started to push past Sam, but Sam slammed a hand onto his chest and stopped him.

“Hey, look, man. I’m not happy about this, okay? But it’s a tough job and you know that.”

“It’s supposed to be tough, Dean. we’re supposed to struggle with this. That’s the whole point.”

“And what does that buy us, Sam?”

“A clear conscience, for one!”

“Well, it’s too late for that.”

Sam and I shared a look, both sighing. Sam stopped Dean again. “What the hell happened to you?”

“What?” Dean spat back.

“You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean. Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there.”

“Dean, I thought we were past this.” I whispered.

Dean only nodded. He moved again, and Sam reached out to stop him a third time. Dean pushed him into the wall, hard. I snarled and ran after Dean, but he shoved me back into the room and locked the door.

“Dean!”

“Hey!” Sam was now at my side, pushing at the door. “Open the door, Dean! Don’t do it! Dean!”

“Dean, don’t!”

There was a long silence, and Sam and I stared at each other, horrified. Dean wasn’t himself. He seemed more like Dad every day, and the influence of Gordon was still lingering.

The door unlocked, and Sam and I both jumped to push it open. We stumbled out into the hallway. Dean caught me as I tripped. I looked up to see his face clean of blood.

“Did you-”

“No.”

                                                            ***

Jinx yawned, and I did the same. Sam shoved another rag into a bottle, and Dean handed me the one he had just finished. I tucked it aside with the others and sighed. The door opened, and Dr. Lee strode in, hands in her pockets.

“It’s been over four hours. Duane’s blood is still clean. I don’t think he’s infected. I’d like to untie him, if that’s alright.”

Dean glanced up at us, then looked back down, lowering his head. Sam and I sighed, and Sam nodded.

“Sure.”

She nodded and shut the door behind her. Sam shifted in his seat, looking over at Dean.

“You know I’m gonna ask you why.”

“Yeah. I know.” Dean huffed.

“So why? Why didn’t you do it?”

There was a long beat, and Dean tossed a rag aside. “We need more alcohol.”

Sam huffed and got up, leaving. Jinx whined, but she stayed in her spot. I yawned again, and Dean crossed his arms over his chest. I sat in Sam’s empty seat and leaned forward.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

Dean looked away.

“De.”

“I don’t wanna be Dad.”

A wave of relief washed over me and I sighed. There was a crash from the next room over. Dean and I both shot up, sharing a look.

“Sam.”

We each pulled out our guns and ran to the door, met by Mark, who also had a gun in his hand. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I nodded at Dean, who reared back before kicking it open. Pam was straddling Sam, hand to his chest. Dean fired three times, and Pam fell to the floor, dead.

“Sams, oh my god.” I tucked my gun into my waistband.

“No!” Mark grabbed me by the upper arm and yanked me back.

A snarl ripped past my lips and I bared my fangs at him. Mark jumped away, and I knelt next to Sam, reaching for his hand.

“She bled on him. He’s got the virus.”

Sam pulled his hand away from me, eyes wide. My eyes began to fill with tears as I looked down at his bloodied chest. I looked over my shoulder at Dean.

“What do we do?”

                                                            ***

Sam was sitting on the exam table, a bandage taped to his chest. His head was down, and he was near tears. The others were crowded in the room, and Dean was pacing. I sniffled, arms crossed over my chest.

“Doc, check his wound again, would you?”

There was a long pause, and Dean’s head snapped up, fire in his eyes.

“Doctor!”

Mark scowled. “What’s she need to examine him for? You saw what happened.”

Dr. Lee sighed. “Did her blood actually enter your wound?”

“Come on, of course it did!” Mark spat.

“We don’t know that for sure.” Dean tried to reason.

“We can’t take a chance.”

“Doc, just… check again. Please.” I begged.

“You know what we have to do.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nobody is shooting our brother.” Dean snarled.

“He isn’t gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself.” Duane snapped.

“Nobody is shooting anyone!”

“You were gonna shoot me!”

“You don’t shut your damn mouth, I might!” I snarled.

“Guys…” Sam spoke up. “They’re right. I’m infected… just give me the gun and I’ll do it myself.”

“Forget it.” Dean scoffed.

“Dean, I’m not gonna become one of those things.”

“Sams, we still have time.” I whined.

“Time for what? Look, I understand he’s your brother, and I’m sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this.” Mark pulled out his handgun.

I bared my fangs, growling. Mark stuck his gun against my forehead.

“What the hell are you?”

“Something that can kill you, no doubt.” I hissed.

Dean eased a hand onto my shoulder and tugged me away. Mark’s gun went down, and Dean got in his face.

“I’m gonna say this one time.” Dean spoke slowly. “You make a move on either of them, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

Mark said nothing.

“You understand me?”

Still, nothing.

“Do I make myself clear!”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

There was a long pause, and Dean and I shared a look. I nodded, and Dean fished his keys from his pocket. He tossed them to Mark.

“Get the hell out of here, that’s what. Take my car. You’ve got the explosives. There’s an arsenal in the back. You’ve got enough firepower to handle anything now.” Dean eyed me. “Take the rest of them.

“What?” I gasped as Dean pushed me toward Mark.

“Well, what about you?” Mark eyed Dean.

There was a beat, and Sam shook his head. “Dean, no. No! Go with them. This is your only chance!”

Dean shook his head right back. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.”

“No, he’s right.” Mark tried to reason with Dean. “Come with us.”

Dean shook his head. Mark held a hand out for me, and I flinched. I looked at the boys, who both nodded at me. I handed Mark Jinx’s leash with tears in my eyes.

“Take her. Please.”

Mark squinted, and the boys began to protest.

“Go.” I pointed at the door.

Mark shrugged. “Fine. Your funeral.” He led Duane and Dr. Lee toward the door.

“I’m sorry.” Dr. Lee whispered. “Thanks for everything, Marshals.”

Dean snorted. “Oh, uh… actually, we’re not… really Marshals.”

“Oh…” She hesitated before leaving with Mark and Duane.

I hoisted myself onto the exam table as Dean shut the door. Sam began to cry, looking from me to Dean. I leaned my head against his arm, grabbing his hand in mine.

Dean smiled softly. “Wish we had a deck of cards. Or a foosball table or something.”

“Guys.” Sam whimpered. “Don’t do this. Just get the hell out of here.”

Dean shook his head. “No way.”

“Give me my gun, and leave.”

“For the last time, Sams, no.” I hissed.

Sam shrugged me off and stood up, slamming his hands on the table. I jumped, and Dean’s face hardened. Sam sighed, realizing that he scared us both.

“This is the dumbest thing you two have ever done.”

Dean shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?” He shuddered.

“Ew.” My nose scrunched up.

Sam sighed. “Dean… Olive… I’m sick. It’s over for me. It doesn’t have to be for you.”

“No?”

“No. You guys can keep going. You have before.”

“I don’t want to.” Dean whispered.

I shook my head. “Not without you, bubs.”

“What?”

Dean pulled his gun from his waistband and settled onto the file cabinet, across the room from us. Sam sat back down on the exam table.

“I’m tired, Sam. I’m tired of this job, this life… this… this weight on my shoulders, man. I’m tired of it.”

“So what? You’re just gonna give up? You two? Just lay down and die? Look guys, I know this stuff with Dad has-”

“You’re wrong.” Dean cut him off. “It’s not about Dad. I mean… part of it is, sure. But…”

“Then what is it about?” Sam whispered.

There was a bustle outside the door, and the boys and I looked up. I bared my fangs with a low growl. Dean and I both held our guns up, and Dean quickly opened the door.

“You’d better come see this.” Dr. Lee stood in the hall.

                                                            ***

I huddled into Dean’s side, a low feeling in the pit of my stomach as we looked around. There was nothing. Nobody, no noise.

“They’ve all just… vanished.”

                                                            ***

Sam shifted on the exam table.

Dr. Lee looked up from the microscope. “Well, it’s been five hours and your blood’s still clean.”

Dean and I sighed in relief.

“I don’t understand it, but I think you dodged a bullet.”

“But I was exposed. How could I not be infected?”

“I don’t know.” Dr. Lee shook her head. “But you’re just not.”

I ran at Sam, pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me with a sigh. Dr. Lee grumbled under her breath before letting out a curse.

“What happened?” Dean perked up.

“Their blood.” Dr. Lee looked confused. “The Tanner samples. There’s no trace of the virus. No sulfur. Nothing.”

The boys and I shared a look.

                                                           ***

Dr. Lee spoke to Duane and Mark, who were loading up a truck. She shook her head before coming over to us. Mark waved, and the three of us held a hand up.

“What about him?” Dean asked Dr. Lee as she sighed.

“He’s going to be fine. No signs of infection.”

I hummed, and Dean nodded. Sam chewed at his lip, eyebrows furrowed. Mark and Duane got into the truck and pulled away. Dean looked up at Sam, who put his hands up.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I got no clue.”

“I swear, I’m gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean… why here? Why now? And there the fuck did they all go? It’s like they just melted.”

“And why was I immune?”

Dean blew a raspberry. “Yeah, you know what? That’s a good question.”

I shrugged. “I’m already starting to feel like this is the one that got away.”

                                                           ***

“So…” Sam takes a swig of his beer and looks down at the river. “Last night. Wanna tell me what the hell you were talking about?”

“What do you mean?” Dean squints.

Olive looks between the boys. Sam gives her a soft smile. She leans into his side and closes her eyes.

“You said you were tired of the job, Dean. And that it wasn’t just because of Dad.”

Dean huffs. “Forget it.”

“No. No, I can’t.” Sam shakes his head. “No way.”

“Come on, man.” Dean scowls. “I thought we were all gonna die. You can’t hold that over me.”

“No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking.” Sam crosses his arms over his chest.

“And what if I don't?”

“Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until you do.” Sam challenges.

Dean sighs again, looking out over the water. “I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to… go to the Grand Canyon.”

“What?”

“You know, all this driving back and forth across the country, we’ve never been to the Grand Canyon. Or maybe we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood. See if we can bang Lindsey Lohan.”

Olive’s nose scrunches up, and she looks up at Sam, who is equally confused.

“Dean…”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?”

“Why are you saying all this?” A concerned look drapes itself over Sam’s face.

Dean shakes his head and looks the other way.

“No, no, no. Dean.” Sam tries.

“Dean, we’re a family.” Olive places a hand on his shoulder. “We carry each other’s burdens, remember?”

“I can’t. I promised.” Dean whispers.

“Promised who, Dean?” Sam inches closer to his siblings.

“Dad.” Dean’s voice is weak.

“Dean, what are you talking about?” Olive squints.

Dean looks down, then up, tears in his eyes. “Right before Dad died, he told me something.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at Sam. “He told me something about you.”

Sam’s eyes grow wide. “What?”

Olive feels the tension, as does Jinx, who whines from her spot on the ground.

“Dean, what did Dad tell you?”

Previous Ep: Crossroad Blues (2.08)

Next Ep: Hunted (2.10)

taglist:

@i67​

[manage-mischief]

Picture Prefect

Read on AO3 here. 

Author’s Note: So, I’m not really sure I ship Dramione. At least, not in an endgame type of way. But, this idea came to me while rereading Harry Potter for the umpteenth time. I think there definitely could have been more to Draco’s character than was in the books/movies. I felt like it would be interesting to understand Hermione’s relationship to him, and that there was likely a bit of romantic tension/pining that may have been behind some of Draco’s actions/motivations. You know what they say about little boys and pulling girls’ pigtails on the schoolyard. Anyways, this takes place during OoTP, before Dumbledore leaves. This is also my first FF, so I’m still learning. I’ve just always thought about writing something but have been too nervous before now. Any kindfeedback or reviews would be appreciated. Thanks in advance :)

Disclaimer: I’m not J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

Summary: Hermione goes on evening patrol with Draco Malfoy and things progress quite differently than expected. Secrets, lies, and broom cupboards may be involved.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we,” she sighed as she descended the stairs and laid eyes upon her patrol partner for the evening.

He gave a noncommittal grunt in return. Uncharacteristically pleasant this evening, she noted. Without a word, the pair set off past the Great Hall and got to work.

When Hermione had first discovered she was going to be a prefect for Gryffindor House last summer, she had been thrilled, but not surprised. She had top marks in all of her classes, and a (mostly) clean disciplinary record. Sure, she, Harry, and Ron had had a few run-ins with the wrong side of the law. Still, there was, at least in her humble opinion, no one more qualified for the job. When she found out that Ron would have the job alongside her, she had been that much happier. During the celebration held at Grimmauld Place, she had never felt prouder. Yes, she was an intelligent girl. Yes, she had even scored a date to the Yule Ball with internationally-renowned quidditch seeker Viktor Krum (and had especially enjoyed the look of jealousy and disbelief on Pansy Parkinson’s face, she might add), but this accomplishment somehow carried more weight for her.

Being muggle-born, she knew that there were some who viewed her as unworthy of Hogwarts. Some would even go to unspeakable lengths to try and force her out of the wizarding world—as she had learned the hard way during her bout of paralysis-via-basilisk during her second year. But, here she was: the top of her class, muggle-born prefect. The prefect title meant something. Anyone in her world could understand the accomplishment, and no one could deny her the honor that the title bestowed.

Ok, maybe she was a bit over-enthusiastic about the role. It did seem that, most of the time, she was nothing more than a glorified hall-monitor. Yet, she wore her badge with honor. And, as she and Ron strode towards the Prefects Compartment on the Hogwarts Express on her first day she felt that nothing could have lowered her spirits. That is, however, until she saw him. Her new colleague, leaning against a table with his usual, haughty, I’m-better-than-you-because-I’m-pureblood air, his blond hair standing out in stark contrast with his dark robes with emerald green accents. Draco Malfoy.

And so, this is how she ended up on evening patrol on this otherwise wonderful night with a boy who was, in her opinion, one of the rottenest snakes to ever roam the halls of Hogwarts.

The first time she had met Draco had been on the Hogwarts Express during her first year. Bright-eyed and bushy-haired as ever, Hermione had hugged her parents goodbye and wandered onto the magical locomotive, anxious yet elated. She had been thrown into the magical world so fast. One minute, she had been running from bullies in the park by her house as they called her a freak. The next, she was meeting with a stern-but-kindly witch who explained to her that she was talented and special. Hermione was determined to learn as much as she could about her knew world as fast as she could, so she would be able to prove herself at school. Once she set her mind on something, nothing could stop her.

Armed with countless wizarding books and a new bank of knowledge, she confidently strutted into a train compartment and took a seat. She cheerfully introduced herself to the three other young wizards already occupying the space. The others followed suit. Two large, intimidating boys introduced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. She was pretty sure those were last names, but had a feeling that prying for more information would be futile, seeing as they had both grunted out one-word answers to her questions and then looked away. They did not seem very bright. The third boy had brilliant blond hair and smiled in a way that made her blush slightly in spite of herself. “I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy. It’s a pleasure,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Draco had been overly friendly to respond, and all too eager to converse with Hermione. They asked each other about their wands, their favorite shops in Diagon Alley, and the classes they were most excited to take. “I can’t wait for Transfiguration. I know it’s one of the more difficult branches of magic, but it seems quite fascinating,” Hermione blabbered on cheerfully. She had been very proud of herself for holding her own during this conversation. Her reading and preparation had paid off! Draco seemed to have no idea she hadn’t grown up in a wizarding household.

He smiled at her. “Well, I hope we’re sorted into the same house. It’ll be a shame if I can’t spend any more time with you in the future.” Hermione again blushed. She kind of liked Draco’s cockiness and confidence. “So,” he continued, “where d’you want to be sorted? I know where I’ll be…Slytherin. My family has been in Slytherin for generations,” he remarked, haughtily.

“Oh, I’m not sure I have a strong preference. Although, Gryffindor seems like it would be a good fit. Or Ravenclaw. I guess we’ll see,” Hermione said.

“Where were your parents when they were here?” Draco asked, eagerly.

“Oh…well…they didn’t go to Hogwarts,” Hermione replied. She didn’t know why she didn’t reveal that her parents were Muggles. She wasn’t the least bit ashamed. But, something about the boy’s mention of his Slytherin family heritage made her wary. Hadn’t she read somewhere that Slytherins were obsessed with blood purity? Surely that was ancient history. It couldn’t mean this boy believed that only pureblood witches and wizards were worthy of magical education, right? After all, with such a small portion of the population having magical blood, there must be hardly any purebloods left!

“Oh, so they went somewhere else? Ilvermorny? Durmstrang? My father wanted to send me there, says Hogwarts’ Headmaster is an old crackpot…”

“No, no. They didn’t go to any magical school. They’re muggles,” Hermione interrupted. Immediately, the tone of the conversation took a sharp turn. Crabbe and Goyle both stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. Draco sat up straighter in his seat, and where before there had been a playful look in his eyes, there was now only wide-eyed fear and accusing. “So, tell me, what makes you think you’re worthy to be here, talking about magic to me and my new friends, when your parents are so backward they probably can’t even tell a wand from a stick in the mud?” Draco sneered at her. His two cronies sniggered. Hermione knew she was not welcome anymore. She shot out of her seat, determined not to cry, and stormed out of the compartment. She could hear Draco’s voice in the distance as she quickly scampered away, fuming. “Well, boys, glad we got rid of her, eh?”

Of course, leaving that compartment was the for the best. She had met Neville and, not long after, her future best friends, Harry and Ron. Luckily, not all wizards were as closed-minded as Malfoy had been. She had not let him get to her, and since then, had outperformed him in every class. Still, she always found it strange to reflect back on the one pleasant conversation she had had with him and relate that cute, smiling boy to the absolute toe-rag she knew today.

Speaking of today, it was getting late, and Hermione was becoming fed up, fast. Her and Malfoy had only been patrolling for half-an-hour, yet it felt as if it had been an eternity. They walked in silence, keeping at least a foot’s distance in between them at all times. The corridor was silent. It was shaping up to be a long, dreadfully boring night.

They reached the first-floor bathrooms around 11 o’clock. “I’ll check the girls and you check the boys,” Hermione broke the silence. Malfoy rolled his eyes and sarcastically replied, “no really Granger? What an ingenious idea.” She simply shook her head and went to check for students out of bed. The bathroom was empty.

“Nothing in there.” She saw Malfoy emerge from the boys’ loo across the hall. “Same here.” On they went.

Half of their shift had now passed, and all they had seen was a sleepwalking Ravenclaw first-year, who Hermione had gently guided back to bed. They were passing by the statue of George the Smarmy when suddenly, she heard footsteps. She paused and cocked her head.

“C’mon Granger,” Malfoy sighed. “It’s probably Filtch and Mrs. Norris.”

“Hush!” Hermione hissed. It most certainly was not Filtch. The footsteps clicked, making it clear their owner was wearing high heels. They were approaching fast. She couldn’t ignore her gut feeling that something was amiss. But, what was it? Why did the footsteps sound so familiar to her? “Have you lost your marbles? Let’s go! It’s a professor or someone! Nothing we have to worry about!”

Aha. It was a professor. Of course. That’s why Hermione recognized the footsteps immediately. She could hear in them the haughty sense of purpose that made her loathe Defense Against the Darks Arts classes daily. Umbridge. Just as she could hear the toad-like professor approach their corridor, another pair of footsteps sounded in the distance. Umbridge must have been meeting someone. But who, at this hour?

She didn’t know why she did it. Perhaps it was because she was on edge from all of the secrecy surrounding the DA. Perhaps it was because of the wrenching feeling in her gut that Umbridge was up to more than she let on here at Hogwarts. But, no matter the reason, before she knew it, she was grabbing Malfoy by the front of his robes and pulling him into the nearest broom closet.

“What the bloody hell, Granger?!?” he hissed indignantly. At least he had the sense not to shout. Otherwise, their cover would have been blown. “What’re you playing at?”

“Be quiet,” she shushed him promptly. Quickly, she pulled out the pair of extendable ears she kept hidden in her pockets. As much as she hated to admit it, Fred and George had really hit the mark with their creation. She always kept a pair with her, and had found them to come in handy on many occasions. As she fiddled with the device, Malfoy continued to look at her, wide-eyed. “What the hell are those?!”

“Extendable ears, now, HUSH!” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Extendable what?” “Ears. They let you listen in on other peoples’ conversations without getting caught. Now please kindly shut up so I can hear what’s going on!”

“…in this time of night. I wanted to do this privately. Most students use this corridor to snog without getting caught, so I thought it would do the trick.”

Umbridge’s girly voice echoed. Malfoy was still staring at her with a look of pure confusion.

A private meeting. But with who?

“Of course, Dolores. Do you have any updates?”

The second voice belonged to a man. She knew she had heard it before. But…it couldn’t be…

“Oh my god,” Malfoy whispered, now seemingly as invested in the conversation as Hermione had been. “What’s Fudge doing here?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Fudge. The Minister of Magic. She was sure glad she had had the sense to hide in the cupboard, even if she was a little too close to Malfoy for comfort. She couldn’t have had him running away and blowing her cover.

The pair of them remained quiet, now both eager to hear what was going on.

“Well, Cornelius. I’m afraid matters at Hogwarts are far worse than we feared.”

“How so?”

“Well first of all, there’s the Potter boy. He and his little friends seem determined to undermine my authority at every turn! He has no respect for the Ministry. Always going on about You-Know-Who despite my countless warnings and punishments!”

There was heavy silence for a moment before Fudge spoke again.

“And do the other students believe him?”

“Some do. Others think he’s gone mad. Most don’t know what to think, and it has been hard for me to convince them to take our side, despite our efforts to disparage him in the Prophet.”

“Surely these students have more sense than to believe the word of a 15-year-old boy over the Ministry and the Prophet! Why are we having such difficulty keeping this under control? I thought I could trust you to handle this, Dolores.”

“I…I am doing all that can be done! But that’s the thing. It isn’t just Potter who has been proclaiming the story that You-Know-Who has returned. It’s Dumbledore, as well. It is not so easy to discredit the Headmaster in the Prophet. He is too well known and well respected. Students love him. Which is why I am proposing that we focus our efforts on a new plan.”

“Yes?”

“Removing Dumbledore from this school, and making me Headmistress.”

“That is quite easier said than done, Dolores. You said it yourself, Dumbledore has the respect of the student body, as well as most of the parents, I might add. Implicating him in illicit activity to remove him from Hogwarts will be extremely difficult.”

“We almost got Potter, this summer.”

“Yes, and the fact that those Dementors even showed up in Little Whinging was a happy accident! How can we expect something like that to happen again?  And at Hogwarts, no less?”

“Yes…a happy accident…well. I shall keep my eyes open for any ‘accidents’  that will allow us to relieve Albus from his post. In the meantime, you’d best be heading back to London. It is getting late. But I promise you this, Cornelius. Come hell or high water, I shall make sure Albus Dumbledore never sets foot in this school again. You can count on me.”

“We’ll see, Dolores. Have a good evening.”

Their footsteps echoed down the halls and disappeared into the night.

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione exclaimed. “That conniving little…”

“Blimey Granger. I thought you were intelligent!” Malfoy rolled his eyes. She glared daggers at him, daring him to continue insulting her. He sighed, “Of course the Ministry’s trying to oust Dumbledore! Fudge is scared of him. He thinks Dumbledore’s going to take his job.”

Hermione was taken aback at his words. She had known this information, of course, thanks to her months of living with the Order. Still, she was surprised that Malfoy knew this information, and that he had been so willing to admit it. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Draco couldn’t have come across this information by himself. What was his shifty father telling him?

“Like you even care,” Hermione tersely responded. “You and your father have been trying to get rid of Dumbledore since the day you arrived here! And probably before! You’d just love old Umbridge to become Headmistress and become her little pet.” Ok. Tirade over. Yelling at Malfoy, while satisfying, wasn’t going to do her any good. Hermione knew they should be continuing their patrol. Plus, she wanted to return to the Common Room and fill Harry and Ron in on the evening’s events. Hopefully they’d still be awake…

“You always think you know me, but you don’t.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione whipped her head towards him just before she was about to exit their cramped hiding spot. Had she heard correctly?

Malfoy gave a sad sort of grunt. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should continue. Hermione continued staring at him intently. She was mystified.

“You and your little Potter Protection Squad. You all always think you know me, know my story, know my life. ‘Oh, Malfoy hates everything good. He’s always out to ruin things for us. He’s a jerk. He’s the enemy. He’s evil,’” he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice. Hermione couldn’t speak, still baffled. He continued.

“For your information, I detest Umbridge just as much as you do. I just know how to be subtle about it. And I know my place. I know what happens to me if I don’t get on her good side. You wouldn’t understand. You’re from a muggle family.”

“You know what, Malfoy? I am absolutely sick and tired of you bringing up my parentage. I have as much of a right to be here as you! And I understand plenty, thank you very much! I am top of our class and work hard to prove myself to intolerant people like you and your family every single day! Don’t you forget you were impressed by me when we met on the Hogwarts Express first year! Impressed by more than just my knowledge of the wizarding world, I might add!” She spit back, her breath labored from the force of her outburst. She could feel her cheeks flushing. It had been an unspoken agreement between them to never mention their first encounter. She could see his face tint red as well.

He stared at her for a moment. Then, without warning, grabbed her by both of her arms and turned her so they were face to face, which was quite cramped due to their inopportune hiding place. His gesture was not threatening, however. He looked sad.

“You don’t understand. I…I sometimes envy that you’re from…well…your background.” He huffed. “I mean being a Malfoy is an honor. People envy me.” His voiced switched back to the shaky timbre it had been. “But…there’s certain…expectations. My family is one of the greatest pureblood lines in wizard history. Malfoy and Black. We have a reputation to uphold. My father reminds me of that every chance he gets.” His face darkened. “I have to hate Dumbledore. I have to be friends with people like Crabbe and Goyle. I have to suck up to Umbridge and support her for headmistress. You don’t understand what happens if I don’t.”

Hermione continued to stare at him. She blinked, trying to understand why and how Draco was capable of showing such vulnerability with her. He searched her face, almost desperately, for a reaction. Hermione softened her face. Perhaps there was more to him than she thought. Maybe he just needed someone to listen. When he realized her receptiveness, he spoke once again.

“Everyone in my family expects me to be like my father. Become a…” he stopped himself. But she knew what he would have said. “Well, become like him,” he carefully worded. “No one has ever asked me what I want to do. And I can’t tell them. I can’t tell my family to shove it…that I don’t want to be part of their circle! That I’m terrified of what’s coming and of what I’ll have to do!” Draco’s voice broke. Hermione remained silent, entranced. Without thinking, she took his hand gently. They both looked down at their hands, now touching. When he spoke again, he refused to meet her gaze.

“My parents were part of an arranged marriage. Even their lives weren’t their own. Everything…every bloody thing that’s ever happened in my life and before has been about blood purity. About money, and power, and respect. They expect me to uphold that tradition. I’ll marry a pureblood girl. I can’t object. I’ll be disowned. Banished. Burned off of the family tree for even thinking about, as they call it, ‘tainting the bloodline.’” He sighed once more. He finally brought his eyes back to meet hers. His stare was intense and a bit frantic. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest and her cheeks growing hot. Who was this boy, and what had he done with the tosser Draco Malfoy? At least she knew how to deal with him when he was being a jerk. But this? This vulnerable Draco standing before her? Her brain could not figure him out.

His voiced softened further. “I’m sorry I’ve called you names. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I truly am.” And then, it rose once more, “But don’t you understand? I have to act this way! You terrify me, Hermione. And…that just…can’t happen. I…I don’t have a choice.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The pressure in her chest was too much to bear.

“Draco. Everyone has a choice,” she whispered, softly, her eyes still locked on his.

He swallowed. Then, he leaned forward, slowly. She could feel her own body move towards his in response. Her heart pounded and her mind went blank as she felt his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a kiss. She pressed into him, her body moving with his in a passionate dance. He ran his hands through her hair. She could feel her pulse rising, heat surging through her body. The pair continued hungrily for a few more moments. Then, as if on a timer, they both regained composure and pulled back from each other, panting. Hermione smoothed out her hair. Draco fussed with his now-disheveled robes. They regarded each other once again, neither sure what to say to the other.

Hermione blinked in a vain attempt to regain focus. She couldn’t deny that had been the most passionate kiss she’d ever received, including those from Viktor—who had more than once professed his love for her. But, she thought to herself, that will never excuse his behavior. He had humiliated and degraded her, time and time again. The names he had called her were almost unforgivable. Had he changed? She couldn’t be sure. But, one late-night encounter in a broom closet was far from enough proof for Hermione. After a few moments of silence, she realized he was waiting for her to speak. To say something about what just happened. Her mind was still racing too fast to latch onto a single thought.

“I’m sorry about your family Draco. That sounds very hard.”

Oh, if she could have kicked herself in the moment! Sorry about your family?!? That sounds hard?!? She felt like a proper wanker! What an idiotic response to what had just happened!

“I wish things were different,” he replied. This shocked her.

“Are you saying you want to be with me?” She inquired.

“I’m not sure,” he answered, almost inaudibly, sheepishly running his hands through his hair.

“Draco,” she sighed. This was all too much information for Hermione to handle. “I’m not sure, either. Thank you for apologizing for calling me those awful names…but…I’m not sure that’s enough. You just said it yourself. Your family life is complicated. I’m sorry. If you ever want to change, to escape, I will be here for you. And, I may even want…this…too. But, I won’t be the girl who you degrade in public and then snog in a broom closet when no one is watching. I don’t deserve that.”

Draco simply stared back at her for a long time. She could tell he was thinking. Would he really say he wanted her? Would he really change? Would she really want to be with him, even if he did? Ugh, Harry always said girls were confusing, but she was beginning to think that boys that were really the ones who were bonkers!

Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke once again, “I’m sorry. I just…” he shook his head. He glanced towards the door. “We had better finish patrol and then head to our dorms.” Under his breath, Hermione heard him mutter, “I have a lot to think about.”

Unable to form any intelligible words, she just nodded her head. The pair emerged from their cupboard and set off back down the corridor, as silent as before. When they finally parted for their respective common rooms, they met each other’s gaze once again. Draco smiled softly, “Goodnight, Hermione.”

She gave a tentative smile in return. “Goodnight, Draco.”

As she entered the Gryffindor Common Room, she was deep in thought.

“Oi, Hermione! You’re back late,” Ron shouted to her from the table in the corner, on which Harry and him had stacked piles of books and essays. In the back of her mind, she mentally rolled her eyes. Of course, they hadn’t finished their homework.

“Was patrol with Malfoy as awful as we thought?” She gave a noncommittal sigh which Harry took for annoyance. “That bad, huh? What a git,” he shook his head. He and Ron then launched into a conversation about how much they hated Draco Malfoy. Hermione did not listen. She was still deep in thought, her thoughts swimming as if she were looking at them from the surface of a pensive: slippery and liquid and not quite fully formed.

“You alright, Hermione?” Ron asked, snapping her back to reality.

“Fine,” she answered half-heartedly. “Just dead tired. I think I’m going to head to bed.”

She climbed the stairs to the 5th year girls’ dormitory, and told herself she would tell the boys about Umbridge’s conversation in the morning. Right now, she was too preoccupied with thoughts of a certain Slytherin prefect to think about anything else. As she crawled into bed and closed the curtains of her four-poster, she found herself clinging to a small bit of naive hope. It did seem like Draco was serious when he kissed her. Maybe, just maybe, people could change for the better, even people as entrenched in the pureblood movement as Draco Malfoy.

She should have known it was silly to hope for such things.