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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years ago

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The Hit You Need - Helmut Zemo

"It was about damn time, Jesus Christ." - Me @ myself. Out of all Daniel's characters, Zemo was my first love and I can't believe I didn't write something for him first. Every "Which Daniel Character Is Your Boyfriend" quiz I take, I always get Zemo (don't mind me, just exposing my mental illnesses *plural*) Anyway, yeah, this took a long time, but I also managed to be lazy about it as well (you'll see what I mean lol)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), slight possessiveness, fingering, oral (m!receiving), scratching, blood, enemies to lovers trope

5.3K Words🤙🏻

~~~~~~~~~~

You never wanted this job in the first place, guarding Avengers level criminals wasn't what you had in mind when you started working for Secretary Ross, aka, your uncle-in-law. You wanted to join the military, but your parents were dead set against it. So, with the help of your aunt, she landed you a job at the Raft...how fantastic.

Okay, it wasn't that bad, you could pick your own hours that would best suit you and it had decent benefits. But you definitely did not want to stay at the job forever. Whenever you fantasized about your future, you always wanted a job where you could travel. The Raft may be in the middle of the ocean and you had to travel there, it was so lonely and boring. Nothing fun ever seemed to happen, and it was driving you insane.

Then, Helmut Zemo arrived.

Fresh meat newly brought in by the Wakandans. You had heard about Zemo, being the entire reason the Avengers broke up in the first place. His intense dark eyes ensnared you instantly, but it wasn't surprising with everything you've heard about the man.

"I thought he was imprisoned in Berlin?" You had asked your uncle-in-law.

"James Buchanan Barnes took it upon himself to break him out a few weeks ago, to help with some super solider outbreak or something." He answered nonchalantly, which made you concerned with how apathetic he seemed towards the situation.

"Shouldn't you have looked into that?"

"Not our jurisdiction." Um, it probably was, but you couldn't find it in yourself to give it more thought.

You weren't often tasked with personally seeing over a certain criminal, usually there would be more than one guard looking over each individual. But when you were tasked with watching over the Baron, you tried to hide your excitement.

Every day, you watched Zemo in his cell, often reading a book or simply sitting fiddling his thumbs, but always a pondering expression on his face. You wanted to know what he was thinking, you wanted to talk to him, even just once. You knew Ross would not be happy with you if you did, so you had to wait for the right opportunity, and he handed it to you on a silver platter.

The Baron was called in for a meeting with Ross, and you were to escort him to the meeting office. You had heard rumors and whispers about some plan that your uncle was conjuring up, not one so well received by the sound of the gossip you would hear around the prison. A plan to allow the villains of this prison to be given a chance a redemption, to form a team that would be supervised under the government. It sounded far fetched to be sure, but you were curious to hear more than just the rumors.

"Word of advice, L/n," Your fellow guard spoke as you were putting on your guard uniform in the locker room, "don't let the man talk to you, and vice versa. He's known for brainwashing."

You scoffed a laugh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I've read his file, and plus, I watch the news."

"Then you know how dangerous he is. I'm just saying be careful."

You smiled confidently. "How dangerous could a man in chains really be? It's not like he's superhuman like others in here. I'll be just fine." Your coworker simply responded with a unimpressed expression. You couldn't really blame them though, you still were considered a greenie being one of the only people allowed to join at the Raft in over five years. But that was just a cause to prove your worth, even though the job wasn't all that fun.

Despite your confident front earlier, you found yourself getting nervous as you loaded your gun's magazine and holstering it in your belt. You didn't know why you just didn't quit the job, considering how much you complained. It's not like you had a fascination with death and you never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but the thought that something might happen one day that forced you to use a weapon, it made your heart race and you liked that feeling. That was the same feeling you felt while walking to Helmut Zemo's cell.

You punched in the code to open Zemo's cell, the door opening with a slight gust of wind blowing in your face. "Congrats, Baron, you get to go on a field trip."

"Where are you taking me?" The man asked as you walked him through the halls of the prison, making sure to keep your wits as he walked in front of you.

"Secretary Ross wants to speak with you." You answered simply.

"Why would he want to speak with me?"

"Quiet. You'll know soon enough. Turn left." You ordered, narrowing your eyes as you heard the man scoff. "Something bothering you?"

"No. It's just, you don't have to be so aggressive when I'm complying."

"You're the one talking out of line."

"Perhaps. But you being so overly eager to dish out orders, maybe you're trying to prove something. Trust me, dear, you're not going to gain respect from your fellow guards by treating prisoners like me with such an uncouth manner."

Now it was your turn to scoff. "I'd never trust someone like you. And you're one to talk about being uncouth, civilized and respectable people don't bomb UN meetings."

Zemo suddenly stopped in his tracks, the action instantly making you reach for your pistol, but just keeping your hand barely hovering over the weapon. The man had a blank expression on his face and slowly moved closer to you until he was almost face to face. As your heart raced, you couldn't bring yourself to upholster your weapon, for a reason unknown to you. All you could do was watch as the Sokovian subtly examined your expression. "Struck a nerve, have I?" He smirked.

Your expression hardened, moving your hand away from your weapon holster to turn the man around by the shoulders and push him forwards harshly. "Keep walking."

"What's the holdup?" Ross immediately asked once you arrived with Zemo.

"Apologies, Secretary Ross, lost my way for a moment. This place is a maze." You thought up a lie quickly, the man couldn't know the real reason or else you probably would've been reprimanded.

Ross waved you off with an eyeroll, gesturing you into the room. You brought Zemo to the metal table that sat in the middle of the room, handcuffing him to the table, a slight pang of satisfaction when you heard him wince softly as you tightened the cuffs. "Will that be all, sir?" You asked. "Shall I wait outside?"

"No need. This shouldn't take too long anyway." You nodded politely and stood up against the wall next to the table, waiting for your uncle to get on with whatever the meeting was about.

"So, may I finally inquire what it is you want from me?" Zemo spoke calmly.

"To save time, I'll just cut right to the chase. After Thanos, we're still in the dark about where the Avengers stand. So, we want to put together another team, one that'll actually be under supervision by the government so no one can cause messes like what happened in Sokovia. Many prisoners here want a shot at redemption, and they can earn a lesser sentence if they participate and follow our orders. I want you to be a part of this team."

So the rumors were true. It sparked a few red flags in your mind, knowing how many evil people were kept at the Raft. You just hoped that Ross didn't want to recruit those certain criminals, but then again, he was trying to recruit Helmut Zemo.

"You flatter me, Secretary." Zemo quipped, an obvious venom in the tone of his voice. "But I must kindly refuse."

Ross' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "So, you're saying that you're gonna give up a chance of redeeming yourself, possibly getting your sentence reduced? Is that what you're telling me, son?"

"Honestly, did you really think I'd agree to be part of some knockoff Avengers team? After everything that happened? If I may be so blunt, I would not be caught dead helping you and your corrupt government. Thank you, but I'd like to go back to my cell."

Ross frowned angrily, looking back at you. "Take the prisoner back to his cell."

"Yes, sir." You nodded, uncuffing Zemo from the table and escorting him back to his cell. He was silent the entire walk back, no witty comments or questions. Maybe it was for the best, but that didn't stop you from asking questions once you brought him back to his cell. "If I may ask," You started, "why didn't you accept Ross' offer?"

Zemo huffed, rubbing his wrists as you released the cuffs. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

You furrowed your brows. "Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Someone who's so desperate for validation that they'd willingly be part of a system that's corrupt. I have more pride than that."

You wanted to be offended, you were, but you couldn't say anything in retaliation or else Zemo would know that he struck yet another nerve. He was already so good at it, and you had only started speaking to the man thirty minutes ago. You locked his cell door in response, leaving him alone with his own thoughts.

It was your responsibility to bring the prisoner his meals after that. It would've been fine if it weren't for your slightly damaged ego from the previous day, but you made sure to hold up that confident front, especially in front of Zemo. "Your gourmet shit, sir." You commented sarcastically...okay, so you were still kinda petty.

Zemo narrowed his eyes at you and you tried not to squirm under his gaze. "Still playing this role, huh?" He replied, causing you to scoff. "Am I wrong?" He smirked subtly, knowing that he was never wrong.

"Annoying is a more accurate description."

He chuckled. "Thank you for the meal, my dear. You may carry on with whatever it is you do here." You rolled your eyes, locking his cell door and walking away with your hands balled into fists.

It was alarming how quickly he got under your skin, the quips back and forth with each other never failing to make you more annoyed with the man as every day passed. Then weeks passed, then months, and then it was your year anniversary since joining the Raft. You found yourself not internally complaining as much about the job anymore, and that was thanks to Zemo. You didn't tell anyone that of course. But if you were to ever think about quitting, you just thought that you'd be leaving Zemo and that put an unwanted pit in your stomach. It was unfortunate, but you started to care for the man.

Coming back to the Raft after celebrating your anniversary (not your choice), you managed to sneak a couple books into the place. But they weren't for you. Seeing Zemo just about exhaust every book he has in his cell, you thought he'd appreciate something other than the old tattered books he always read.

"You're back." Zemo spoke as you entered his cell, his lunch neatly displayed on the metal plate. "Thought you'd finally quit."

You chuckled. "Can't get rid of me that easily." You stopped and froze briefly, immediately cringing at yourself for saying such a thing. But you played it off quickly. "It was my one year anniversary of working here, so my family decided to force me to celebrate. It was pretty lackluster."

"As I'm sure any celebration with family tends to be." Zemo took the tray from your hands and faltered when he felt two thick paperback books underneath. He gave you a puzzling glance.

"Shh." You whispered.

Zemo set down the tray and glanced at the titles of the books. "Machiavelli..." He marveled, his eyes lighting up for a moment. He looked to you with a ghost of a smile, but that was enough for you.

"Heard you enjoyed his books. Our secret, yeah?"

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

You hid your oncoming blush with a nod, stepping out of his cell, almost forgetting to lock the door. Flustered, you punched in the code, not noticing that Zemo was paying very close attention to where your fingers moved.

After that day, you were even more enraptured by the man than when he first came to be on the Raft. You shouldn't have been, but you couldn't help it. He seemed to see through your very soul, and you didn't know if you liked it or not. He was handsome to be sure, but you couldn't possibly have a silly crush on a criminal...right?

You decided you just had to accept it, that way it would go away faster. But it didn't help that you were the one to deliver his meals every day, it's like the world was tempting you, baiting you into ruining your own life.

Every time you offered witty comments, he'd offer some back. Maybe it was wishful thinking, it probably was, but you started to think he enjoyed your company, despite your first encounter not being all too pleasant. Perhaps you both were just lonely, surely he was being kept in a prison cell twenty-four hours a day. And you didn't really have strong connections in the outside world, no real friends and you weren't exactly that close with your family besides your parents, but even they felt like more of an inconvenience. For some reason, you felt like you could trust him in a way. Maybe it was just his charm that lured you into a false sense of security, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. He was the first person in a long time you felt connected to, and you wanted to keep that feeling even if it was fake.

Whenever you had days off and went back to civilization, you found yourself missing the man. Even when you hooked up with some random person just to feel something, you could only think of Zemo. At some point, you just got tired of it. You couldn't even look at another person sexually without thinking of him. So, you just stopped having sex altogether. But almost every night you'd touch yourself, thinking of Zemo: his honey brown eyes, his incredibly sexy accent that made you have butterflies in your lower stomach, his intelligence and the way he used his words so perfectly. You could probably daydream about him all day...

"L/n." You were suddenly snapped out of your trance by Ross' booming voice.

"Secretary." You saluted sarcastically, causing Ross to roll his eyes.

"Over the past few days, I've noticed Zemo might have a soft spot for you. Have you noticed this?"

You tried to hide the fact that your heart sank as soon as he said that, furrowing your brows and letting out a breathy chuckle. "The terrorist, sir? Sorry, but no." You said bluntly.

"Well, I have. And I have a mission for you."

"And what might that be, sir?"

"I want you to get closer to him." Alright, not what you were expecting. "And if you can win him over with your...charm, try and convince him to join this team of mine, alright? We could really use him on our side. You can get it done, right?"

"What if he still refuses?"

"Then...get we'll have no use for him anymore." Ross said vaguely, putting a sour taste in your mouth.

"Wait, you wouldn't kill him though, right?"

"Just get it done. I'm counting on you."

The more you thought about it, the more you wouldn't put it past your uncle-in-law to execute Zemo, given his past history. If he could put Avengers in prison, who knows what he'd do to criminals. You would do as Ross asked, but you also had another plan in mind. It would be a long shot, but you needed it to work. You couldn't see it playing out any other way.

A few days after that, spending all those days planning, researching, making sure everything was perfect, you had your plan and you thought it was pretty good, for a person with very little experience in that sort of thing.

You bought a chess board, carrying in its box, the pieces clacking together as you bounced it with every step. This will work, this will work...

"Ah, what do we have here?" Zemo inquired.

"A strategist like yourself, you must be someone who'd like chess."

"Am I that predicable?" He joked.

"Far from it." You chuckled, setting up the board on the little table in the middle of his cell. "I hope you won't go easy on me." He didn't. He beat you in about five minutes. "You don't like to lose, huh?"

"I prefer having a challenge actually. But you opened yourself up to failure as soon as you moved your pawn in front of your bishop. Keep making moves like that and you'll lose every time."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, Mr. Perfect-At-Chess. Let's go again."

"So," Zemo started after making his first move. "when were you going to tell me that you're Ross' niece?"

"How did you-?" You huffed. "Step niece. You forgot the step. Either way, didn't seem important. It's not."

"He's your family."

"Hardly."

"That's cold. Family is everything. Sometimes, it's the only thing you have in this world."

"For some people, yes. But not for me. My family isn't exactly something to be proud of."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked suddenly. "Or better yet, how are you able to do this? Bring me books, talk to me more than two minutes, play chess?"

"Truthfully...Ross wants me to get on your good side, to try and convince you to be part of his little team." You answered.

"And he's fine with you giving away this knowledge to me?"

"I didn't think to ask."

Zemo hummed in thought. "And what if I refuse?"

You let out a shaky breath. "I think they'll kill you."

Zemo chuckled bitterly. "Hardly the first time someone's tried to kill me."

"I wouldn't think so...Colonel Zemo."

He rolled his eyes, looking back down at the chess board. "And you agreed to do that for him?"

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"There's always a choice."

"I suppose, if I wanted to be demoted or fired."

"Why not? Surely there is something out there you'd rather be doing than be a guard at this place." You tried to hide your oncoming blush by looking back down at the board, fighting against his inquisitive gaze. "Why do you choose to stay here?" Your bashful look have Zemo all he needed to know. Wearing a small smirk, he nodded understandingly. "And how would your uncle react, to know that his niece fell for a criminal?"

You scoffed, gaining your confidence back slightly. "For once in my life, I don't care about his approval, nor anyone else's." You slid the rest of the contents in the chess box to Zemo underneath the table.

Zemo gave you a wide eyed look for a brief moment once he saw what was in the box, before turning back on his calm demeanor. A 9mm, a note attached to it with a five digit code and detailed instructions. "What is this?" He whispered.

"Code to your cell."

"I can see that, but why?"

"I know you were the one that blew up the van that carried the Flagsmashers. I found the man that helped you do it; Oeznik. I'm not letting my uncle kill you or extort you, I'm gonna get you out of here. Checkmate."

Zemo looked back down with furrowed brows, his mouth agape. "You beat me..."

"I did." You smiled.

"Wait." Zemo gently grabbed your wrist. "What's going to happen?"

"I explain it all in the note. Don't worry. It'll be okay." And with that, you left.

And the plan worked...it actually fucking worked.

Once you gave the signal, it all went by like a flash of light. That old man turned out to be quite resourceful, but you knew he'd do anything for his Baron, including helping him break out of one of the most secure prisons in the world, having someone on the inside also helped. It was kind of shocking how little remorse you felt betraying your uncle and...well, your government. Being seeing the look of admiration from the man you helped break out of prison, any remorse you may have felt was gone.

Zemo, being the rich Baron he was, of course he had a safehouse he could go to. And with you now being on the run along with him, you were forced to go with him, not that you minded in the slightest. It was a penthouse somewhere in Europe, wherever you were, it was beautiful. You had never seen anything like it, and the penthouse was extravagant, but you didn't expect anything like from Zemo.

"You like it?" Zemo asked in amusement as he watched your awestruck expression as you looked around the house. "It's not much, but it'll only be temporary until we find somewhere they can't find us, somewhere safer than here. But it'll do for now."

"Not much?" You scoffed, trailing your fingers across the wooden framing of the furniture. "This place is five times larger than my apartment."

"If you don't mind, I'm gonna to wash off this disgusting prison smell." When he came back, he was clean shaven, dressed up in black pants and a purple turtleneck.

"Purple looks good on you."

"There wasn't much in the closet, but anything's better than that blue prison uniform."

"You look good in anything, honestly." You chuckled, biting your lip when he smirked, feeling your face heat up as he took steps closer to you.

"You know, I still haven't properly thanked you, for what you did for me." Zemo said seriously, taking your hand in his, gently running his thumb over your knuckles. "I'd imagine very few people would've done this for someone like me."

"Well, Sam and James did."

"They had an ulterior motive. They only did that because they needed my help."

"And how do you know that I don't have a motive, huh?" You teased.

"You're a kind soul, I can feel it. And I'll admit...you're one of the finest creatures I've ever laid my eyes upon. I never thought I'd be able to feel like this towards someone ever again." Zemo whispered as he reached up to lightly caress your cheek, causing a shiver to run up your spine. "I want you. I want to feel you against me, Liebe, only if you'll have me."

You didn't need to think twice about it. "Yes. Yes, Zemo, I'll have you."

You winced as Zemo suddenly pushed you against the beautifully decorated papered wall roughly, attacking you with his lips and squeezing your sides. His breath was hot on your face as he placed open mouthed kisses alongside your jaw, licking the shell of your ear, the teasing making your core throb achingly. "Please, Zemo..." You all but begged him, anxiously waiting for him to touch you in the places you needed.

Zemo's hardening cock twitched in his trousers as he heard your frustrated whines. He wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there against the wall, prison not allowing for such pleasures, but he was nothing if not a gentleman. He always treated his woman like royalty, and he'd be damned if he didn't treat you the same way. "Shh, I know, I know. Let me take my time with you." He whispered back, guiding you over to his bed, pushing you to lay back on the cool satin sheets.

Zemo had a dark lustful expression in his eyes as he slowly pulled your pants off your legs along with your underwear, leaving your already glistening cunt exposed to him. You could've sworn you heard him growl. "How long has it been since you've been with anyone, Liebling?"

You gulped nervously, almost squirming under his intense gaze. "A couple years..."

Zemo smirked. "Really? A beautiful woman like you, you must've had many vying for your affection. But you couldn't when you had to see me almost everyday, hmm? You couldn't fuck someone without thinking it was me, wishing it was my cock inside you, huh?"

You whined. "Yes, Helmut, only you. I've only wanted you." You moaned out as he placed rough possessive kisses up the inside of your thighs, skipping over the place you wanted him most. "Please, I need you..."

Zemo came to lay right beside you, helping you out of the rest of your clothing, kissing your collarbone before trailing his digits down your body. You gasped as he started running his fingers up and down your folds, gathering up your slick before rubbing slow circles on your clit, his mouth latching on to one of your nipples as your back arched. "I want you to come on my fingers first. Think you can do that for me?" His husky voice raised goosebumps all over your body, a shiver shooting down your spine and pooling heat in your core.

"Yes, anything you want." You kissed his jaw, instinctually opening up your legs further for Zemo as he continued to work on your clit, slowly inching two fingers inside you.

"How does it feel?"

"So good, Helmut, so good." You moaned, shocks of pleasure spreading throughout your body, causing your eyes to close.

"Look at me." He demanded, but still keeping a soft tone to his voice; and like you were his pet, you obeyed him instantly and looked up at him with glazed over doe eyes that could've made him melt if he wasn't so focused on your pleasure.

It had been so long since you've been with anyone, his long fingers thrusting and curling inside of you while his thumb kept a rapid and steady pace on your bundles of nerves, it didn't take you long to feel your body building to your climax. Zemo could sense it too, he could feel your walls clenching around his digits, your hand on his shoulder and the other holding onto the sheets tightening as soft gasps and moans got louder and louder. "Oh, fuck-!" You cried out, involuntarily bucking your hips against his hand. "I'm so close."

"I can feel it. Let go for me. Come on my fingers, mein Liebe." He rushed out, his mouth sucking and biting on your nipples, neck, lips, anything he could reach while increasing the speed of his hand. You had no problem obeying right away again, a loud shout escaping your lips as all encompassing please washed over you like a tidal wave. "Good girl, such a good girl."

"Fuck me, my Baron..."

Zemo groaned, shifting to lay on his back. "As much as I want to take you, I want to know how your mouth feels first."

You smiled as you moved in between his legs, helping him remove his own clothes, slowly rubbing your hands over his thighs, inching them closer and closer to his erection. He hissed as you licked a stripe on the underside of his cock, pleased with his reaction, you did once more before you started kissing his tip. Relaxing your jaw, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his leaking cockhead. "Scheiße-!" Zemo gasped, "Haven't forgotten how to pleasure a man I see." He commented, causing you to smirk around him.

"I'm doing a good job, then?" You asked innocently, the look in your eyes downright sinful.

Zemo smirked. "You know you are, you little minx." You wiped that smug smirk off his face by taking him as far as you could fit in your mouth, eliciting a groan from man, causing him to chuckle breathlessly. "God..." He placed his hand on your head, not pushing you, but simply holding on to your hair. "You're gonna make me come, mein Liebe, can't have that just yet." He gently pulled your mouth off of him, guiding you to lay back down on your back.

"You're so beautiful..." Zemo breathed, trailing sloppy kisses up your body until he returned to your lips, positioning himself in between your legs. You gasped as he rubbed himself up and down your folds, your slick and his saliva causing him to slip inside you easily, feeling his cock stretch you deliciously. "You feel incredible, Liebling. You take me so well." He started thrusting slowly, allowing you to adjust so you could fit him deeper and deeper, so deep until the blunt tip of his cock brushed up against that special spot inside of you, eliciting a loud moan from you.

"Oh God, Zemo...!" You cried out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails into the soft flesh of his back. Zemo groaned as he felt the sharp burn of his skin ripping open, blood slowly beading through the scratches cooling as it hit the cool air, causing him to shiver.

"You're already so close, aren't you?" Zemo teased, thrusting faster and pinning your wrists above your head, burying his head into the crook of your neck and biting harshly. "I can feel it. Be a good girl and come for me again, Schlampe." Obeying his command yet again, the tension in your lower stomach snapped and you came with a silent gasp, your walls clenching down on him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you clawed at Zemo's back like a lifeline. "May I come inside you, mein Schatz?" He groaned out, feeling his release getting closer and closer, but waiting for your permission.

"Yes, please-!." You begged, tears brimming your eyes as he fucked you through your orgasm, trying not to squeal in overstimulation. But you couldn't help it once Zemo let out a loud groan, feeling him spill inside you. He all but collapsed on top of you, planting gentle kisses along your neck as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was amazing, and I'm not just saying that because I've been in prison for a few years." He chuckled breathlessly, moving to lay next to you.

"I believe you." You giggled, turning on your side to face him. You didn't know if you'd ever get used to his intense gazes, he could still stare through your soul.

"I could say I brainwashed you." He said suddenly.

"What?"

"If we get caught. I could say I forced you to help me escape, that I threatened you or something."

You sat up with a frown. "Zemo, no. I'm not gonna let you do that. Plus, we'll be careful. We won't get caught."

Zemo smiled weakly, sitting up with you, rubbing his hand over your thigh. "I'm sorry, Liebling, but I'm not giving you a choice. If we get caught, you'll get thrown in prison with me and I can't have that happen. Promise me that if we get caught, you'll say I forced you to do this, yes?"

"No!" You scoffed.

"Please, Y/n. You've already done so much for me, just do me this one favor. Promise me, Y/n." He lifted your chin and forced you to look into his eyes, filled with determination that you couldn't say no to.

"Okay..." You exhaled shakily, "I promise."

"Good. Good." He brought up your hand, closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles lovingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Guess we'll just have to not get caught then, huh?" You smiled slightly, brushing a piece of hair away from his face.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure we never do. I can promise that to you."

"Good. Because I'm not planning on leaving you anytime soon, Helmut Zemo."

~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah, I wasn't gonna waste my time writing out a whole fuckin' action/breaking out of prison scene. I'm not smart enough for that, plus, that's where my laziness comes in. Sorry not sorry lol

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #zemo smut #zemo imagine #zemo x reader #daniel brühl

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indigochromatic · 4 months ago

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Yeah, agreed--if it helps at all OP, we've been mods for a decent-sized system server for years (all kinds of systems, not just DID/OSDD), and your description is so, so far from weird or outlandish, promise.

I think a lot of systems (especially new ones, but also nearly everyone at some point, ourselves included) periodically get seized by worry about their experiences sounding "cringe and/or fake", because--I mean, some of this shit you couldn't even make up if you tried, right? But honestly, it's all just another Tuesday by plurality standards, which for me at least feels reassuring.

Wishing you luck from both of us-- (EDIT: read some more of your blog, looks like maybe you don't use system/plurality labels, but I couldn't tell for sure? Definitely wasn't our intent to use words for you that you aren't a fan of. Even for someone who isn't a system, what you described still doesn't sound fake to us.)

One thing that's helped us recognize who's who between us is the realization that Avery is a lot younger than Amber. I won't give the estimated age because I think people will be weird about it, but Amber has grown out of a lot of stuff that Avery hasn't yet.

#S.txt #system stuff

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years ago

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Dwarves Always Knock Thrice

Requested: Yes and no. @estethell challenged me to write a modern AU with Fíli and Kíli knocking at the reader’s door instead of Bilbo’s by mistake. I interpreted it as a ‘what if Fíli and Kíli end up in modern day Europe?’

Warnings: none so far, I wrote this with a fem!reader (sorry! I try to write more gender neutral in the future, I promise)

Summary: What if one day your favorite fictional characters knock on your door? A modern AU with a twist! (any similarities to what I would do in this case are purely coincidental 😏)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. There are hundreds of fics like this one. But none of them were written by me and my weird sense of humor 😆 Depending on the response I’ll turn this into a multichapter fic, if not this will stay a standalone oneshot.

Humming a rather cheerful tune, you pressed the button on top of the coffee machine and your morning fuel started dripping into your favorite cup. You waited patiently until the foam reached the edge and then you turned the machine off. With the cup held between your hands, you inhaled deeply. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee for a perfect start of the day.

A few minutes ago your boyfriend had left to go to work, only to see him again by the end of next week. He was going on a citytrip with your group of friends for a few days, which had been planned ages ago. You were supposed to go with them, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any vacation days left. No, it was back to work for you instead.

Not that you minded. You loved your job, and you were lucky enough to be able to work from home when you wanted to. It didn’t actually feel like work that way. At least you had decent coffee, you didn’t have to dress up and you could take a break whenever you wanted. And now with your boyfriend gone for the week, you had no interruptions and lots of quiet evenings to look forward to. Cheers to that, you thought while you sipped at your coffee.

The dinner table became your makeshift workplace, coffee within reach. There were no video meetings scheduled today so you were wearing your favorite pair of black leggings and a long oversized knitted sweater, with fluffy socks on your feet to complete your comfy outfit.

You moved your computer mouse and your laptop sprung to life. James, your Sphynx cat, hopped on the table and pushed his head in your hand, demanding cuddles.

“Another day at the office, how dreadful,” you smiled, petting him behind his ear. James purred and started to bathe himself.

He was a Sphynx cat, so there was no fur. Nothing but flawless pink skin, soft to the touch. It almost felt like petting a warm peach. You chuckled at the comparison, and James stopped his grooming to look at you.

“Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I’ll let you to it.”

You booped his nose and got to work.

After a day of sifting through emails, processing data and editing documents and spreadsheets, you felt utterly exhausted. A phrase your boyfriend likes to throw at you on these moments suddenly came to mind, ‘How can you be so tired when you’ve done nothing but sit down on your ass all day?’ Always the charmer.

You stood up, raised your arms above your head and stretched, groaning in the process. You froze when your stretch session was interrupted by three knocks on your front door.

“Who still knocks these days?”

It was almost 6 pm, slowly turning dark outside and you’d let the shutters down about an hour ago. It was something you did as soon as the sun was setting. It was silly really, but it made you feel safe.

But now it prevented you from seeing who was at your door.

The neighbours from down the street wouldn’t come by for a visit, they were the kind of people that liked to keep to themselves. Your parents would call first, so… a polite burglar perhaps?

You couldn’t be too careful these days, especially now, when you were alone, so you went to your intercom first to see who was at the door.

The camera didn’t show anyone. You could see a part of your front yard, but that was it. Strange… You thought you could hear voices, so maybe there was someone at the door after all. Maybe someone had driven their car into the ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time. You lived in the countryside, with roads where only one car at a time could pass, with ditches on both sides. A challenge for city people, and the occasional daredevil usually had to be towed out of said ditch.

What’s life without a little risk, you thought, and made your way to the front door. You weren’t the one to turn away from people in need. It would probably get yourself killed one day, you were too kind and gullible and people tended to take advantage of that.

Another three knocks sounded, a little louder this time and you swung the door open.

“Finally!”

Your boyfriend rushed inside and shot up the stairs. When you looked to your driveway, you saw his car with the lights on, the motor still running. He was running late again. As usual.

After a few minutes he thundered down the stairs, his hiking boots in hand.

“Almost forgot these,” he said while lifting them. He kissed your cheek and ran off. You sighed. “See you next week, sweet. I’ll miss you.”

Sarcasm was your way to cope, to learn how to deal with the lack of love and care. Because who were you kidding? He wouldn't miss you.

You shuffled to your kitchen, in need of something hot. To drink, that is. And while the coffee machine filled your cup for the second time that day, you rubbed your face with your hands trying to think of how you had ended up in this situation in the first place…

“Just try and enjoy a week by yourself,” you whispered.

You were about to take a first sip when three knocks sounded for the third time.

“Seriously?”

When you opened the door, you couldn’t stop the massive eyeroll when you saw it was your boyfriend again.

“Hand me the reservation papers of the hotel, will you? I forgot them and I need the address for the gps,” he said.

“I sent it in an email to Tom, and I put the address in the gps system yesterday. Now go, you’re late enough as it is. Call me when you get there okay?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek again.

“Bye! Enjoy your week by yourself!” “I will, don’t worry,” you smiled.

Before you closed the door there was a bright white flash. You covered your ears on instinct, something you always did when there was a thunderstorm.

“That was very closeby,” your boyfriend gasped. “They didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm tonight.” “I’m not sure that was lightning… there was no thunder?” “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

And with those words your boyfriend left for the second time that night.

After closing the front door with a small heart, you tried to calm yourself. You were terrified of thunderstorms, and you really didn’t feel like going through one when you were on your own. Let’s just hope he was right and it was nothing, you thought.

Your coffee…! Taking a sip from the now lukewarm drink, you pondered if you would make it into an Irish or Italian one. Heaven knows you deserved it, right? With your coffee still in hand you made your way over to the liquor cabinet, only to be interrupted by yet another pair of knocks on the front door.

“I’m going to kill him,” you murmured while you walked into the hallway. “What could he have possibly forgotten this time?”

You swung the door open with a little too much force, but you couldn’t care less by that time. The small amount of patience you had left was already out of the window and you just wanted to enjoy your spiked coffee.

“What did you forg-?!”

Your voice got caught in your throat when your eyes fell on your visitors. Visitors. As in plural. Definitely not your boyfriend. You recognized them immediately, there was no doubt who they were but… it couldn’t be! This was simply impossible!

In your shock you forgot you were holding your cup of coffee and it slipped out of your hand. The cup completely shattered on the floor but you hardly noticed.

Because right in front of you, in the light of your porch light at your very own doorstep, stood Fíli and Kíli.

As in Fíli and Kíli, nephews to Thorin, King under the Mountain. As in Fíli and Kíli, characters from The Hobbit. Fictional characters. With a heavy emphasis on ‘fictional’. Made up by Tolkien.

So how the hell was it possible that they were standing in front of you, alive and well?

The two Durin brothers were a bit taken aback so it seemed, because they too remained silent at first. After a few awkward seconds Kíli was the one who decided to speak up instead of his older brother. He was clutching his sword and quiver, just like he did in the movie.

“Kíli,” he began. He was side eyeing his brother who was still staring at you, and smacked Fíli’s chest when he didn’t respond. “What?” “Kíli,” Kíli repeated, pointing at himself and then at his brother who finally caught on. “And Fíli.” “At your service,” they both continued, bowing deeply.

“Y/N, at yours,” you responded without a second thought. Kíli’s face split into a wide smile.

“We’re looking for master Boggins!” “Yeah, I kind of expected you to say that,” you murmured, but they heard you. “Oh, so you’re a seer?” Kíli assumed excitedly. “No! No, I’m just… me. But there is no mister Baggins here,” you said, correcting Kíli. “Are we at the wrong house?” Fíli wondered. “I’m afraid so.” “Well… can you help us find him?” Kíli looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “I would but, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Both of their faces fell. They were so in character, if someone was pranking you, they did one hell of a job in finding these two actors. And their costumes were spot on, from the carvings on Kíli’s bow to the colour of Fíli’s fur coat. It was scaringly accurate… They looked so much like Dean and Aidan’s version, but not quite. You didn’t know why exactly, but you had the feeling they were real. They were Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís.

Fíli stared at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Oh. Now, if you weren’t already a little enamored by their looks, the title he just gave you would have. You weren’t exactly used to endearments.

Not that Fíli had meant as an endearment but you wouldn’t mind if they called you my lady for the rest of your life. It just made you grow a couple of inches.

“I’m probably going to regret this, but… come in.” You stepped aside so they could enter the hallway.

The heavy boots they were wearing made scratching sounds on your tile floor and your mind immediately went to your delicate wooden floors in the rest of your house.

You were going to sound extremely bossy and uptight but you had to think of your interior.

“Could you both maybe take off your boots?”

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“If you want?” Fíli asked you.

“Please.”

You took the swords and quiver from Kíli so he had his hands free and placed them in a corner of your hallway. Fíli followed your example and added his own weapons to the pile.

“I trust you not to attack us when we’re unarmed,” he winked at you.

You smiled back at him, knowing all too well he still had some smaller knives hidden somewhere. For a moment the thought of reenacting the knife scene in Mirkwood crossed your mind, but you thought better of it. He wouldn’t find it as funny as you thought it was and you’d probably lose a finger or two if you tried to take a knife from him. It was best not to challenge him. Yet.

Once their boots were placed neatly next to their weapons, you motioned them to follow you into your living room. Your eyes drifted to the shards of your coffee mug and the spilled coffee, you needed to clean it up but it simply had to wait.

“I don’t really know how to begin explaining all this,” you said, while waving your arms around you, “but it might be a good idea if we sit down?”

You gestured towards the sitting area and both brothers took a seat on your couch.

It seemed like they didn’t know where to look first. Their eyes wandered to your tv, surround system, laptop, aquarium, …

Kíli whispered something in Fíli’s ear, to which the older brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want to drink anything?” you suggested. “I have water, milk, beer, …”

Their eyes lit up when you mentioned the beer, so you nodded your head.

“Beer it is, although I need to warn you. It’s Belgian beer, so it’s probably a lot stronger than what you guys are used to.”

You mentally facepalmed at your last sentence, why did you even mention that? They didn’t realize they were in a different universe, so mentioning your country would give them zero information.

“I think we can handle it just fine,” Kíli commented with a smirk. Fíli nodded in agreement. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

After another look at the dwarves on your couch, you disappeared into your kitchen. You fetched two beer glasses out of the dishwasher and two bottles of beer from your fridge, before you noticed how much your hands were shaking.

Okay, Y/N, you need to calm down first… Easy to say when you have two dwarves sitting in your living room. Dwarves! And your favorite dwarves too. How many times had you imagined this exact moment in your fantasies? In your dreams?

Of course! That was it…! You probably fell asleep at your laptop and you were dreaming. But then why did it feel so real?

Maybe someone was pranking you after all? Nah, that wasn’t likely. Nobody knew you were even in the Tolkien fandom. Let alone who your favorite characters were.

So it must be a dream... But if you were dreaming, they definitely would have been an exact copy of the movie Fíli and Kíli. As in, Dean and Aidan in costumes. The ones sitting on your couch looked slightly different, still handsome - Mahal, did they look handsome - but you would probably refer to them as discount Dean and Aidan.

Your small mental breakdown was interrupted when Kili started to scream.

“What is that?!”

Quickly snatching the bottles and glasses in both of your hands, you hurried back to the Durin princes.

When you entered your living room, you were met with quite the hilarious view. Tolkien had described Fíli and Kíli as fearless and courageous, but there was nothing courageous about their behaviour right now.Fíli was sitting with his legs pulled up and Kili half on Fili’s back, pointing at James who was trying to jump on Fili’s lap.

“That’s James, my cat.”

“That’s a cat?!” Kíli yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” you laughed, placing the glasses and bottles on the coffee table. “He’s a sphynx cat, he’s supposed to look like that. They don’t have fur.”

You called James and he immediately ran to you, so you could pick him up. He rubbed his head against your chin and started purring, happy to get some attention.

You crouched down before the two princes.

“Go ahead, pet him. You don’t have to be scared.” “We’re not scared,” Kíli protested, puffing out his chest. You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

They were wary at first, but eventually both brothers were petting James. Before you could stop him, James jumped out of your arms on Fíli’s lap and curled up against the fur of his coat.

Fíli froze and tried his best not to let it show that he wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Next to him, Kíli had the hardest time keeping a straight face, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but his shoulders were already shaking with laughter.

You poured their beer and placed it in front of them.

“Like I said, it’s pretty strong so small sips. Do you want me to take James away?” Fíli shook his head. “I-it’s fine!”

You took a seat on your other couch and anxiously started to rub your thighs.

“So… like I said, I don’t really know how to explain this but I think I know what happened to you.” “Wait… did something happen to us? I don’t understand?” Kíli asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Oh, right. They didn’t realise they were in a different universe right now. Maybe you should take a different approach.

“Can you tell me what happened before you knocked on my door?”

Kíli took the two glasses and gave one to his brother before he took a gulp, humming appreciatively.

“I like this,” he said. “And to answer your question, we traveled to the Shire and knocked on the door with the mark. And here we are!” “But… my door doesn’t have a mark?”

It was Fíli’s turn to roll his eyes. “Kee, you’re not telling the whole story. But you’re right about this,” he smiled while raising his glass, taking another sip. “This is good stuff.”

You chuckled when you saw some foam sticking to his mustache. He raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”

“I have enough beer in the fridge, you don’t have to save some for later,” you laughed, pointing at your own lip to get the message across.

Fíli quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The movement made James shift in his lap and the Dwarf went rigid again. You decided not to say anything about it, you figured maybe Fili didn’t like cats that much. Or just James.

“So what did Kíli leave out?” “Your door wasn’t the first one we knocked on. There was a round, green door in the Shire. And that one had the mark of Gandalf. He’s a wizard.”

You nodded. So far it went exactly like it should. Shire, green door, mark.

“But when we knocked on it, we found ourselves in a field all of a sudden. And your house was the only one around so we figured that was where we were supposed to be. Since Gandalf is a wizard, you never know what to expect.”

Okay, that was different. It almost sounded as if they went through a portal of some sort. Like a portkey? They touched the portkey and traveled to a different universe? But portkeys weren’t part of Middle Earth, that was Harry Potter. Did they have something similar?

“You’re not in Middle Earth anymore,” you said softly.

Both brothers stared at you with wide eyes, their beer long forgotten. Kíli looked at his older brother, and pulled at his sleeve.

“What does she mean by that?”

Fíli kept his eyes fixed on your face, searching your features to see if you were lying. If you were trying to prank them.

“It means that you traveled between different worlds. In my world, where you’re in right now, Middle Earth is fictional. A story. It doesn't exist. Just like my world doesn’t exist where you’re from.” “I don’t believe you,” Kíli said with a frown.

You had expected this. It’s not like you would’ve believed them if you were in their place.

“Look around,” you tried to explain, “you can see things you recognize. The furniture, me being a human, … But you can also see things that you don’t understand. They are from this world.”

“You said Middle Earth was a story to you?” Fíli asked you. “Yes. There are tales about Middle Earth, and Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, the race of Men, … Orcs, wargs, goblins,” you explained, careful not to mention anything about their storyline or the one with the One Ring. “But I’ve never thought it could be real.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in.

“How… How do we get back to Middle Earth?” Fili wondered. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. But I’m going to help you find your way back. We’ll figure something out.”

You played with your fingers, a telltale sign you were nervous.

“And in the meantime you can stay here... With me.”

A/N: There you go... This is the setup for a possible new multichapter fic if people are interested in it. Just think of the two brothers in a modern day kitchen and bathroom, how the reader tries to cope with her fictional crush in her home and... how will they get back to Middle Earth? Would you be interested to read that? Let me know! And of course let me know what you thought of this story :)

A/N part 2: Sometimes tumblr switches paragraphs for no reason at all, if you notice this happened, send me a message! I’ll try and keep an eye on it myself, but some help is always appreciated.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @artsywaterlily @entishramblings @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

#fili x reader #kili x reader #fili and kili #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #hobbit character in modern world #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit oneshot #fili #kili #durin princes

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plural-culture-is · 3 years ago

Note

So, so. Questioning if I'm a system. I truly believe we are plural. I just, don't know. Sorry if this is choppy and doesn't make sense and seems way to ranty, my brain is a bit scattered and not really thinking stuff through?

I name specific actions or feelings as someone else, because it does not feel like that's me. It feels like someone is doing that, and it also brings me a lot of comfort, y'know? I can't tell if it's that someone else is effecting me, or it's a kinshift, and I do not know the difference anymore

I've never had someone tell me I don't act like myself, that they've always recognized me as myself. I've also never heard alters speak to me or have heard them speaking with each other, but I can feel them sometimes. I am so sure they are there some days. Then again, it may just me be hoping, a lot for something untrue. I have shitty memory though because ADHD, but, I do think I heard someone playing/thinking about a song and broadcasting? it with the rest of us, and at one point it felt like things I was feeling were not me but a child who was with me and giggling through me/the body. I also have feelings occasionally that don't feel like mine

I have had my friend see me space out and not be able to return me from said spacing out. I think I've dissociated before but I can't tell, and I think I deal with minor time lose? Idk, I just know I'm aware for snippets at time I'm doing or watching something and after I eventually snap out of it, it takes a moment for everything to reload about what I was doing. Also, when I get into something everything else but that thing disappears for a hot minute (senses mainly), but that might just be hyperfixation shit

I also know I refer to us as we or plural without thinking from time to time. I also know I speak to myself, but idk if this is because of my escapism tendencies/MaDD or something else. I know I've spoken out loud to myself for a pretty decent time, but idk about calling us plural

But, I don't ever recall finding things that I didn't do. That was buy someone else, and I can't remember a time I wasn't fronting

so, it does sound like you're plural!

I also sometimes struggle to tell if something is a kinshift or if I'm just fronting with someone else. But I guess if you feel like someone else, you're probably co-fronting, and if you still feel like yourself and only feel like yourself (with the addition of your kinshift of course but like. That stil counts as yourself), then it's probably a kinshift. But if you can't tell, try talking to whatever's there, and if you get a reply it's probably not a kinshift.

and also, no one has ever told us we don't act like ourself either! It's possibly because we've been plural most of our life so people are just used to us acting different all the time, or maybe we're just too good at masking that no one notices. But I literally once asked someone we're not out to if they think they would be able to tell if it wasn't me in control of the body and they said yeah, but that, obviously, is not the case lmao. Some people are just oblivious, I guess.

and I also, a lot of the time, can't hear my headmates from headspace. It doesn't mean they're not there, and it doesn't mean they're not talking, we just have too many barriers and not good enough communication to hear each other unless we're in front together/in headspace together. But I can also generally feel my headmates when they're near front too.

these feelings you feel that aren't your own, for sure sound like they could be a headmate! If you don't feel like you're you, or something you did wasn't you, it's probably someone else.

and oh that definitely sounds like dissociation! So you could also have a dissociative disorder that may possibly also go along with your plurality. Do you think you dissociate more when you don't feel like yourself/between feeling like yourself and not? If so, then that dissociation could be connected to your plurality.

I've heard that singlets can't have entire conversations with themselves, so if you're having long conversations with yourself, you're probably actually talking to someone else, especially if you can't control what they say.

not every system gets amnesia, which means they don't have times where they found evidence of doing something they don't remember doing. If you think your dissociation is tied to your plurality, and you don't get amnesia, I'd recommend doing some reading on OSDD-1b and see if you relate to any of it, because that's basically the disorder that is DID without much amnesia. And even if you don't think your dissociation is tied to your plurality, you're still probably plural, based on what you've told me!

oh and even if you don't remember ever not fronting, possibly either you just have shared memory/don't have amnesia so you remember everything that goes on in front so it feels like you were there the whole time, or you're frontstuck and have been for a long time, which is fairly common, and obviously doesn't mean you're not plural.

so yeah, TL;DR is it definitely sounds like you're plural! And if it brings you comfort saying it, then of course you can call yourself a system :)

#not plural culture #am i plural #long post #anonymous

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Red Roses, Red Roses

Rated: 16+ For graphic descriptions of violence and gore, brief mentions of rape, mentions of torture, mentions of abuse, and disturbing images.

Masterlist

~All the pretty girls, they find

A way to keep you on my mind

I swear I heard you singing along

Cities pass like candy stores

And you're the one

I'm looking for

And so

I'm just a boy

Who's telling a girl

That when I grow up I'll buy you a rose

When I grow up, I'll buy you a rose~

"Okay, but what is the proper plural form of Nephilim?" I asked from the back seat of the Impala as it drove through the winding roads from the bunker and into town. "See, 'cause ' Nephilims ' sounds weird. So, is it ' Nephili ' like ' octopi ', or could it be ' Nephilice ' like ' mice '? I need to know this, guys."

The car was silent. Sam, Cas, and Jack were all thinking over the answer to my question and Dean was just rolling his eyes in the mirror.

"Maybe-" Sam started slowly "-Maybe it's just 'Nephilim'. You know, like ' moose '?"

"Yeah, that kinda sounds right, I guess." I nodded. Dean laughed and shook his head, glancing at me in the mirror. "What?"

"Oh, nothin'." He waved a hand. "I just don't get ya' is all."

"Yeah, neither do I." I shrugged and Jack must have found something funny because he snickered. "But what is it that you don't get?"

Dean shrugged. "I mean, I know you get rattled; Felix scares you and I get that. But you just take everything else in stride! How do you do that? I just- I don't get it."

"I told you this, Dean. I'm good at hiding my reactions to things and if I can't hide them then I use them to gain sympathy from others." I glanced at Jack, catching his eye. "At least, that's what I do until I can really trust somebody."

Jack smiled a little and tugged me closer into his side. He had been acting sorta weird since we'd all piled into the Impala for the drive into town. Jack had wrapped his arm around my waist and held me tight against him, almost as if he was keeping me away from the trench-coated angel on my other side. He kept shooting Cas these weird glances and I couldn't help but wonder what they could be about. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Jack was being possessive.

Not that I was complaining about our close proximity or anything! Jack was really warm and winter in Kansas was, shall we say, not. Who was I to turn down free cuddles? Although those cuddles did kinda make me want to sink my teeth into him. He smelled so sweet and his skin looked so frustratingly soft. Maybe one of these nights I could sneak into his room and get a taste. That could make things better, I mean, half the torture of being around him was the curiosity of not knowing.

"And we're here!"

Sam's voice knocked me out of that potentially devastating train of thought and I followed Jack out of the car. Okay, ' followed ' is the wrong word. Jack pretty much just pulled me out of the car with him. He didn't let go of me. Weird.

The town of Lebanon, Kansas reminded me quite a bit of Copper Harbor. The main difference was that Lebanon was bigger... A lot bigger. The buildings were small and friendly, made of red brick and wooden doors and windows with glass that bulged out at the bottom. The streetlamps were iron and curled over the street as they should and there were planter boxes underneath display windows. The whole town just breathed in a way that said ' stay awhile '.

"It's Christmas time," I noted aloud, "I almost forgot."

There were colorful lights wrapped around poles and wreaths hung on doors with bells that jingled when they opened. There were even speakers placed outside that filled the air with all sorts of holiday music and I felt a smile split across my face as I started to sing along.

"Oh, no. Don't tell me you sing too," Dean chuckled as he held open the door of a discount clothing store. I was about to say something witty as a response but Jack beat me to the chance.

"She does! She sang to me last night," He said, smiling down at me. Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at the acute lack of space between us. Jack noticed and let go of my waist.

"Oh yeah? And how was that?" Dean asked, smirking.

Jack's brow's furrowed and his head tilted as he eyed me like he was trying to remember something.

"It was..."

' Please don't say anything that'll get me dead! ' I pleaded silently.

"It was magical ."

Sam, Dean, and Cas all shared a strange look, but before anything more could be said, the shopkeeper waltzed in from the back room.

Her silver hair was cut short and straight with the ends tucked around her chin. She was a short, thin woman probably in her late forties or early fifties with a not-a-hair-out-of-place sort of attitude. I would bet twenty bucks that her name was Christie spelled with a 'Ch' that she would be sure to remind us of. Click-clacking her way over to us in a pair of atrociously hot pink six-inch heels, the woman regarded us over the tops of her thick, rectangular glasses which hung on a chain around her neck. She flicked her eyes over each person individually in a way that reeked of silent judgment and when her eyes landed on me I was tempted to flip her off. When she was satisfied that she knew everything there was to know about us, the woman fixed a painfully fake smile onto her face and greeted us, speaking slowly like we were uneducated simpletons.

"Well, hi there all! My name's Christie with a 'Ch', you know, like in 'Christmas'? What are your names?"

Called it.

"Hey, Christie. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam, standing really creepily behind me is Cas, and this one here is his son Jack." Dean pointed as he introduced everyone, sounding annoyed as if this was his tenth time meeting Christie which it probably was. "We're lookin' to get Marty here some warm clothes. Got anything, ah, petite?"

I shot Dean a pointed look to which he just smirked. It wasn't my fault he and his brother were so freakishly tall. In front of us, Christie ignored his request to do business and kept on chatting.

"Sam and Dean Winchester? I remember you, boys. Why didn't you tell me one of you had a daughter as pretty as this little vision? Is she yours, Sam? She looks a bit like you," She cooed, stroking my hair as if that was a socially acceptable thing to do. I almost bit her hand off but smiled instead. Her question caught Sam off guard.

"No, no. Marty's not my daughter," He chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

"Oh! My mistake. Is she yours, Dean?"

"What? No! O'corse not!"

I nearly smacked my face with my palm. Were these guys trying to look like kidnappers? Considering their age and the way I was dressed, oh yeah, this totally looked like a kidnapping.

Christie frowned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to her side. Jack reached for me but Christie pulled me further away, glaring at him.

"Oh, dear me. I shouldn't be calling the police on you boys now, should I?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, trying to come up with some sort of excuse and Christie was already pulling out her phone. A very Isaac-like idea popped into my brain. I rolled my eyes and huffed, pushing away from Christie.

"Ugh! Why do you guys have to be so weird about it? I mean, if you have to dress like child abductors then you could at least try not to act like it!" I turned to Christie, shaking my head. "Yeah, sorry about them, ma'am. It's a really long and scandalous story and you probably don't wanna hear the details, but I'm not being kidnapped, I promise."

Christie perked up at the mention of scandal, she was probably just itching for some juicy gossip to spread around at one of her knitting meetings.

"Well, I should probably hear the whole story just to make sure," She said, almost buzzing with excitement.

"Are you sure?" I baited, "It's pretty bad!"

"Oh, you can tell me, hon! I won't tell anybody."

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

"Alright, so long story short, my mom is Cas's aunt and she's a slut who cheated on my dad, who's a straight-up loser. So, he only found out that I'm not his just last week and filed for divorce within two days because he finally has an excuse to get rid of me now. Except, surprise-surprise, my mom never wanted me either because I'm a useless mistake and so they both threw me to child support which Cas here saved me from because he's a decent human being!" I finished my rant of bull crap and inhaled deeply. Christie had bought every word.

"Aw, you poor baby! You get a discount, sweetheart, and if one of your parents ever comes in here I'm gonna wring their neck!" She continued babbling as she led us through the store while Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack all stared at me like I had eight heads. I smirked at them and shrugged a little.

Five hours and six oversized bags of clothes later and we were out of that store. We crossed the street and collapsed on some benches outside a diner, remaining silent for a while.

"That was worse than Hell!" Dean complained, tugging his boots off and rubbing his sore feet. "If I had to hear that woman talk for one more minute, I might have slit her throat!"

The rest of us made noises of agreement. Well, all except Jack who just shrugged.

"I thought she was nice," He said, though he too looked worn out.

"That wasn't nice, Jack. That was prying," Cas corrected him.

"Yeah," I agreed, "I wasn't sure how much more crap I could spout about your aunt, Cas!"

"Yeah, um, speaking of," Sam cut in, "You had that whole thing pretty handled, Marty. Where'd all that stuff come from anyway?"

"I've been on my own since I was nine, Sam," I lied, lowering my head and picking at my jeans.

"I get that, but-"

" Since I was nine , Sam ." I glanced up to see Sam's mouth form into an 'O' of understanding. I looked away again, quieting my voice. "I know how to make up excuses that people won't question."

"Ah."

"You are quite the liar, Martina," Cas spoke up with a tilt of his head. The way his words curled in on one another made it impossible for me to tell whether his statement was one of praise, suspicion, or both. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jack eyeing Cas, his lip curled in a scowl that looked unnatural when displayed by his gentle features.

I didn't look up at the angel sitting in front of me. A tight smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I tapped the pads of my fingers against my knees.

"You don't trust me do you, Castiel?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. Cas sighed and shook his head; I watched Jack's hands clench into fists.

"No. No, I don't," He said, eyeing Jack's reactions as well.

"Why not?" I still didn't look up, feeling the angel's gaze shift to me.

"You lie so easily to others, and you do it very well. What's to stop you from doing the same to us?" For once, Castiel's tone didn't seem accusatory. He sounded truly curious and... understanding almost. His words were something close to gentle.

"Nothing, really," I answered honestly, "For five years, it was just me . I had Isaac but I still felt so alone . I felt so small and scared and purposeless . All I did was run and hide, it was like I was just waiting to die. So, when you guys offered me protection, I couldn't say no. I couldn't say no, even if I didn't actually need it."

"Didn't need it? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. I shrugged.

"You guys saw a small kid getting attacked in that alleyway and you helped her out. You just made the same mistake that everybody does."

"And what mistake is that?" Cas pressed, squinting curiously.

"Thinking that small means the same thing as helpless," I took a deep breath, shaking my head, "It doesn't, and I'm not. I told you I was clever, you just never stopped to think about what that meant. What you guys don't seem to get is that I survived for five years . I was just scared that if you knew then you would leave me there alone and I- I just couldn't."

"So, you lied to us?" Sam asked with a frown. I nodded.

"I did. I lied to you and I'm sorry."

"We wouldn't have turned you away, Marty," Jack said, softly grasping my hand.

"I think somewhere deep down I knew that. There were just these things I had to do to survive and I was so scared that if you knew about them, then you wouldn't want me. So, I lied. Because the only thing I could think about was how I just couldn't be alone anymore." I laughed in spite of myself.

Jack nodded solemnly before glancing up and getting distracted by something across the street. His face lit up as he let go of my hand and stood, bounding towards whatever had caught his attention. I didn't bother to watch him.

"Look, Marty," Dean sighed and shook his head a bit, "You seem like a pretty sweet kid and I like you, a lot. Now, I may not know everything about your past, but I know from experience that the only thing that can make up for your mistakes is trying your best to do the right thing now. I wanna trust you, Marty. We all do. But if you keep all these secrets, then we can't do that. So, can you promise us just one thing?"

"Name it."

"No more lies?"

"No more lies," I lied.

"Good." Sam smiled. "So, is there anything else we should know about you?"

There were so many things. None of which I could tell.

"Well, there might be one thing."

"What?"

I opened my mouth to speak but I was cut off by a flower being presented before my eyes. The flower was a rose and the rose was white. It was gorgeous and perfect, there wasn't a single flaw on any of the smooth petals and it was just one step short of full bloom.

There was a hand attached to the rose and I plucked the flower from his fingers, twirling it between my own.

"What's this for?" I asked as I looked up at Jack who beamed down at me the way I remember summer sunshine being like.

"It reminds me of you," He said simply.

"Why?" I chuckled.

"Um, because you said that you pretended to be innocent and helpless because you thought that nobody would want you if they knew otherwise. So, um, I-" He gestured to the rose's thorn-covered stem. "Well, t-this one has spiky-things on it."

"So, it does." I nodded, giggling at his strange explanation. Jack flashed me a grin and continued.

"At first, I thought it was just beautiful, like you, and I didn't see the spiky things until I picked it up. When I touched it, it hurt, but I took it anyway. See, it's still beautiful - even with the spikes - I still wanted it. So, I want you to know that even if you have spikes, I still want you."

Around. There was an ' around ' tagged on the end of that sentence, he just forgot to put it there. Right?

"Thank you, puppy. That was very sweet," I said, catching a glimpse of the flower cart across the street where he must have gotten it. The cart was unattended. In fact, the whole street was oddly empty. It was Christmas time, the street shouldn't have been empty, but it was and that gave me a very bad feeling.

Jack smiled so innocently it made me want to cry.

"You're welcome!"

"You paid for this though, right?"

Jack's face immediately told me the answer. "Is it not for free?"

"Nope, you stole it. You're criminal now," I joked.

"Oh." Jack frowned for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Well, when we grow up, I'll buy you one."

I had the chance to say something witty, so naturally, I replied with:

"Cool."

I mentally slapped myself. Of course, he says something cute and all I say back is ' cool '. My brain hates me.

I felt my cheeks heating up, so I ducked my head down. Deciding that we were in a shaded enough spot, I tugged the light-teal-colored baseball cap off my head. (I had been using it to hide my face from the harsh burning of the sunlight that drifted over the town.) The cap had a manatee sewn on the front and was one of the few things I had brought with me from my past life on the sunny shores of Florida. Laying the hat in my lap, I pulled my thick black braid over my shoulder and proceeded to weave the rose's stem into it loosely. Then, I flipped my hair back and smashed the baseball cap back on my head.

Meanwhile, the angel boy just smiled down at me as if he hadn't just said some of the kindest words I'd heard in five years. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and suddenly my shoes were extraordinarily interesting.

My attention was drawn away, however, when out of the corner of my eye, I watched Cas's back go ramrod straight. His head tilted to the side like he was listening for something, his eyes narrowing to one-quarter squint power.

"Cas?" Dean called to his friend. More like their friend, really, Sam and Jack were his family too. I guess I couldn't bring myself to call the angel my friend while I was lying to his face about everything I was.

"There are monsters somewhere here, I can sense them," Castiel said quietly. Jack stopped and tilted his head like Cas, focusing.

"I sense them too," He reported, glancing at me, "They're vampires." I sat up a little straighter.

"Put your shoes back on, Dean. You cannot rest while enemies are nearby," I said, smiling wryly and letting an edge of nervousness creep into my voice.

"How many are there?" Dean demanded, already taking charge.

Cas squinted harder. "Seven... Wait, no. There are eight."

"Where? C-can you sense that?" Sam asked.

"No-" Cas shook his head before turning to his surrogate son. "-But Jack can."

Cas sent a small nod to Jack who nodded back and directed his gaze upward, stretching out a hand. His eyes flicked into glistening gold and I could feel my hair stand on end as the air became charged with raw power. For a split second, I almost thought I saw the outline of feathered appendages sprouting from the boy's back. Then, Jack's eyes flickered back into their crystalline blue and I shook the after image away. Whatever I had thought I'd seen was gone before I could register it.

"There are two of them hiding in an alley about thirty yards that way-" He pointed to the left "-and there are five more. They're waiting for an ambush? I think? They're over there. In that really suspicious-looking grey van parked four cars down." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and I leaned over to glance at the car. Jack had been right, the van totally looked like it belonged to the mafia or something.

"What about the last one?" Dean pressed, his eyes shifting around to examine his environment. Jack shook his head.

"I-I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I mean, I can sense it - I know it's here somewhere - but it's cloudy. I can't tell exactly where; it's like it's everywhere and nowhere at the same time."

Jack called the vampire an ' It '. Of course, he did. It was a vampire. It was a monster. What else does one call a monster? What else does one call a thing like that? After all, that's all it was; that's all I was. A thing . Not a someone, not a person, not a friend . A thing . A pest , a nuisance , a parasite to be eradicated. Skrew all Jack's kind words and endearing actions; they didn't mean anything! He could never really love me back. It was only a matter of time before he realized that. It was only a matter of time before he started calling me ' It '.

' How long will that be, I wonder .'

I was pulled from my thoughts by a scream. It rang, high and sharp, and it echoed off the brick buildings.

"HELP! HELP ME!" A woman's voice cried.

"Max?" Jack whispered, his eyes going wide. I didn't know who that was and apparently, neither did Dean as he flung his strong arm out in front of Jack who began to sprint towards the sound.

"Who?" Dean demanded. Jack struggled to push past him but Dean wouldn't budge.

"That-that's Max! She's my friend! Those things have her! She needs our help!" He explained impatiently. Dean's face scrunched up.

"Wait, wait. Max? Teenage girl? White hair? 'Bout yea high?" The elder Winchester made a height comparison with his hand and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Yes! Now, come on!" Jack huffed.

"Oh ho! So that's why you're not going for abandonment issues over there?" Dean teased. Letting go of Jack, they started towards the sound of screaming. "Does Jack-Jack have a girlfriend?"

Jack stopped and faced Dean, confusion written across his brow. "Max already has a girlfriend."

"Oh."

The two dorks were brought back to reality when that Max girl screamed again.

"SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!"

Her voice was followed by another, a boy this time.

"HEY! HEY! HELP! ANYBODY! HELP US!"

"That's Eliot!" Jack took off down the street at a full-on sprint. Dean, Sam, and Cas hot on his heels.

"No, no! Please, go on ahead without me," I muttered, sarcastically, "Save the damsel! I'll just... wait here then."

Huh. Max and Eliot. I felt like those names should be switched around, but then again, I go by Marty, so who am I to judge?

Out of nowhere, I felt a stinging pain in my shoulder. A syringe. I knew the feeling well. Before I could react, the pain suddenly doubled, rapidly spreading all throughout my body like a viral infection.

Dead man's blood.

I whipped my head to the left to meet an all too familiar pair of brown eyes.

"What's bouzzin' gousin?" An accented voice jeered.

Then everything was black.

***

The vampires were taken care of rather easily. Jack felt like a Jedi Knight as he suspended them in the air, stringing them up like the murderers they were. They didn't even struggle. Like convicts dangling from a hangman's noose, the vampires knew as soon as they saw Jack's glowing eyes, that their deaths were nigh at hand. Jack thrust out a hand and caught them in the pulsing rings of his grace, a sound like drum beats underwater reverberating off the alley walls. With a grin, the boy clenched his hand into a fist and the monsters splintered into not but dust.

With the threat eradicated, the glow in Jack's eyes flickered out and he turned to the high-schoolers who he considered his friends.

"Hello, Max! Hello, Eliot! It's alright, you're safe now," He chimed, nodding to each kid in turn and lifting his hand in greeting, though he refrained from actually waving it. Upon seeing him raise his hand, the kids shared a look of sheer terror and backed away. Jack frowned at their reactions, lowering his hand. "No, no! Wait, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you!"

Max and Eliot paused, trying to determine whether or not they believed him.

Unbeknownst to Jack, Max and Eliot didn't actually like him. ( After finding out about the supernatural, the teens were disappointed when the Winchesters refused to tell them more about spirits and monsters. Enter Jack, and his unfortunate lack of talent in terms of keeping his trap shut. ) Max and Eliot had only hung out with Jack once, and that was exclusive because they knew that he lived with the Winchesters. Against his better judgment, Jack had shown them a glimpse of his powers and though they thought his telekinesis was cool, the teens had agreed not to search the boy out again.

There was just something about Jack that unsettled them, frightened them, terrified them. Just like every other human who had seen what Jack could do; deep down, they were all afraid of him. Because he wasn't normal, he wasn't right, he wasn't human .

"What did you just do to those guys?" Eliot asked, staring with eyes as wide as quarters. Jack thought it would be better not to answer that question.

"It's okay! They were monsters," He reassured.

"He disintegrated them," Cas deadpanned. Dean shot the angel a look. "What?"

"YOU DISINTEGRATED THEM?!" Max screeched loud enough to make Jack flinch.

"Yes?"

"You didn't just, like, proof em' away or something?" Eliot added, a little quieter.

"Um, no. No, I didn't."

"COULD YOU DO THAT TO US?!"

"Most likely, yes," Jack answered, thoughtfully, "I've never tried it on humans, though. But I would never hurt you guys, you're my friends!"

"You're really freaky, dude," Elliot said, shaking his head slowly, "And, like, not in a good way."

"I know." Jack hung his head. They were afraid of him. They hated him. He shouldn't have expected otherwise.

"I'm never gonna be able to un-see that," Max muttered, staring at the cement.

That gave Jack an idea, maybe there was a way to undo this.

"I know you're probably freaking out, but I think I know a way to make it better," He said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Nah, man. I don't want any of your freaky Aquaman powers used on me!" Eliot shook his head.

"No powers." Jack smiled despite how badly their words hurt. "I promise."

His stomach twisted with the lie, but they didn't need to know that. Max and Eliot shared another glance.

"Okay..." They agreed, hesitantly.

"I have a friend. Her name is Marty," Jack explained, leading them back to the bench where his family had left the girl. "She's right here!"

Except she wasn't.

That's when the Nephilim's phone rang.

It was a picture message. Marty sat unconscious tied to a chair in some shack. The text read:

"I really would hate to incur the wrath of the Winchesters, so consider this a ransom note. All you have to do is find her in time. Tick-tock. ~ Felix "

Max peered over Jack's shoulder.

"Hey! I know that place!"

***

"Welcomb back to the land of the livinc' where the livinc' are, in fact, dead!"

Okay, so she knew I was awake. I kept my eyes closed anyway and canvassed my new environment. Having grown up blind, I didn't need my eyes to see.

My hands were bound with zip-ties to the arms of the splintering wooden chair I sat in. The space around me was large but not cavernous as there was no echo. This was a shack of some kind judging by how the metal panels making up the roof clanged against one another in the wind. The shack was also dark to protect vampire skin from the sun, and in winter, no sun meant freezing temperatures. There was a weight covering my lap; someone had given me a blanket. I caught the scent of hay among other less pleasurable farm smells. I could hear the shifting of five pairs of feet surrounding me in a circle. This was going to be fun.

Opening my eyes, at last, I was met with the sight of a young woman around the age of twenty-two, lounging on a few hay bails. She was long, lean, and muscular with a round face displaying a crooked smile. I could see the end of a tie-dyed shirt sticking out beneath the fluffy black coat she wore. Her green and purple hair was chopped short in a punk rocker pixie cut that stuck out in at least five different directions. If I wasn't mistaken, a few of the strands appeared to be scorched on the ends. Her cheekbones were low and prominent and plenty rosy. She had full lips and a button nose that was home to two tiny diamond studs. The woman wore her dark green eyeshadow with plum-colored lipstick unapologetically. Her eyes, which were set deeper than most, turned down at the corners and sparkled with mischief. They were accompanied by thick dark eyebrows, the left of which had apparently gotten a third piercing since I had last seen her.

"Ah hah! So she is alive!" She said, her thick Dutch accent coating her words, "I was begininc' to worry that you had follen asleep... Again."

I shrugged despite my restraints.

"Yeah, well I can only sleep-in so long."

"You never were a morninc' person, were you?" The woman sighed, shaking her head. I watched her arrow-head pendant as it swung back and forth from her neck.

"Nope."

"And dat's why we're frien'ds!" She chirped.

"We're not friends, Elwyn." Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh but it was better than pretending like everything was fine and dandy between us. Elwyn faked a gasp.

"You used my fuoll name! You muss be serious. Why so c'old, mijn lieve ?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Spending five years as a walking corpse will do that to you," I answered, smiling thinly. "Why are you here, Elwyn? What's this act for? We both know that if I wanted to walk out of here right now, I could do so without a scratch on me. What do you want?"

"You might 'ave been able to woltz out of 'ere if you had a full tanc', dat's true." Elwyn nodded, in agreement. Then she tilted her head and frowned at me with pouty lips. "But you're quite weak now. I'm sorry, hones'ly. I t'ought dat you'd be able to 'andle dat much dead man's blood but you still look pale an' shaiky!"

"Well, I've always been pale," I replied, narrowing my eyes. Elwyn sat up, crossing her legs and putting a fist to her chin. Her brows furrowed and she looked at me with what seemed to be genuine concern for my well-being.

"How lon'g has it been since you fed, liefste ?" She asked in a gentler tone.

"A little over two weeks," I answered honestly.

"Two weeks?! Nothinc'? Not even somethinc' piffy, like a ra'bbit?"

I shook my head and shrugged.

"Oh, jij arme ding ! I know you ha'te it, but how could you do dis' du yourself?!" She cried, shaking her head in dismay. I looked away. Deep down I knew that Elwyn really did care about me, albeit in her own strange way. I was being harsh with her and that wasn't exactly fair. She was Felix's prisoner too.

"I more than hate it, Ellie," I said, speaking softer now, "But I just couldn't find a good opportunity. Besides, I can take it."

Elwyn rolled her chocolate-brown eyes.

"No you gan't, Mardina! Look at yourself! You're runninc' on foomes and it shows!" Elwyn huffed, her accident becoming more prominent as her emotion shown through. "Be hones'd wit me, dis is because of dose Win-kesters, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," I said, picking at a splinter on the wooden arm-rest. I knew the real reason and it was a stupid one. I mean, of all the ways to try to be better, starving myself to the breaking point probably wasn't the smartest. But I wanted to be good, pure. I wanted to be human. For him.

"Ah, I see." Elwyn smiled softly. "I was told aboud dat Nephilim boy, the rumors were wrong about him. I was watchinc' you two today; he's not a ragink' monster at all."

"No, he's not." I shook my head.

"He's a zoet wezen , no?" Elwyn chuckled to herself, "Sorry, I don' know de word for it in English."

I nodded. The closest translation of her Dutch was ' sweet creature '. It fit.

"What's his name?" Elwyn asked without the slightest bit of hostility.

I smiled. "His name is Jack."

" Hou je van hem ?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. Elwyn smiled knowingly.

"Yes, you do. And if what I saw was any indication, he feels the same."

"No, he doesn't, Ellie," I sighed and gestured to the child body I was trapped in. "He can't. Just look at me! I'm just a sister to him and if he knew what I really am then he'd hate me!"

"So, dat's what dis is about." Elwyn nodded with understanding.

"What do you mean?"

"You t'ink yourself bad, so you want du be good for him. Dat's why you 'aven't been feeding," She explained, sounding matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, I guess so." I looked away.

"Well, das not good!" Elwyn leaned forward and cut the zip-ties that held me to the chair. Then she reached behind her and fished around a bit until she pulled her arm back and held it out to me, a blood bag resting in her palm. "Have a snack now and your engel jongen will never know!"

I glanced at it for a moment but it didn't take much to break my willpower. I snatched the bag from her hand and ripped it open, downing it like there was no tomorrow.

"You gan slow down, geliefde. I brough't more." Elwyn chuckled.

"You did?" I asked looking up.

"I had a sneakinc' suspission dat dis was goin'c du 'appen." She shrugged, tossing me another bag which I ripped into also. She reached behind her again, this time tugging around a small cooler full of the stuff which she pushed over to me. "I admire your willpower, Mardina. I don t'ink I'd have de kinda strengt for what you're pullinc'. How'd you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, halfway through my second bag.

"Live with dose 'unters day in an' day out!" She exclaimed, "Esspecialy dat e ngel jongen ! Da kid smells like garamel chocolate! I envy your gontrol. How'd you stan' so close to him? I was eighty-feet away and I gould 'ardly gontrol myself!"

Well, at least I wasn't the only one.

"I gotta keep up apperences, Ellie. You know all about that." I knew I sounded guarded, but this subject made me uncomfortable.

"But you gould still get a taste. I know you gan make pepole forget t'ings."

I sighed, finishing my second bag and grabbing another.

"You know, Elwyn? You almost got me." I smiled, shaking my head.

"What do you mean?" She asked, feigning obliviousness.

"For a second there, I almost thought you were still my friend."

"I am your friend," Elwyn insisted, "I defied Felix for you!"

"Then you ran right back to him the second I turned my back."

"I had too," She spoke, her voice regretful.

"No! No you didn't! You chose too. You chose him over me !"

" Hij is mijn vader ! Ik moest !" Elwyn cried. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

"I don't care!" I shouted back, "We were free! We both could have been free! But no, you chose to leave me all alone in the middle of the woods!"

"I knew you'd be fine," She whispered. I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

"No, you didn't," I growled. "Do you have any idea how long I wandered for?!"

"You made it out."

"Not in one peace. I lost things in there, Elwyn." I shook my head. "You left me there." Then, I let out a harsh, rasping, laugh and spat my next words. "And for what? To run right back into the arms of the father that never even loved you!"

Elwyn hung her head. " Het spijt me zeer. I'm so sorry."

"You should be," I said, cooly. "Why do you always run back to him? And don't give me any of that ' he's my father ' bull crap."

"I don know. But what I do know is dat I am still your friend."

"Right." I nodded, smiling through tight lips. "Why are you really here, Elwyn?"

She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had slipped down her face, and looked up. "I game 'ere to save you," She said.

"Excuse me?"

"From dose 'unters!" She explained, "Felix told me dat you were with de Win-kesters and I begged him to let me c'ome rescue you. An' he said yes! He's so much kinder den he used to be; he promised dat he wouldn' make you do anyt'ing you didn' want to!"

Elwyn smiled at me and took my hand.

"Oh, yeah?" I scoffed, "Then what was that phone call, huh? What? Is killing my friend supposed to win me over?"

"Hey, I said dat Felix is kinder den he was." Elwyn sighed. "He's still Felix though. He was tryinc' to intimidate de Win-kesters into letting you go."

"I'm not being held hostage!" I insisted.

"But you are still in danger!" Her eyes softened, "Dey will kill you if dey find out what you are."

"I know."

"C'ome with me," She pleaded, "C'ome with me, an' Jack will never find out about you. C'ome with me an' he'll never break your heart."

I paused. Was there really any chance?

No. There was no chance. No chance that Felix could ever change. It was one in a million. There was no chance and no choice .

"If you're really here to save me, then what's with your little posse?" The five other vampires had been unusually quiet for idiots of their caliber.

Elwyn shrugged. "In case t'ings get messy."

"We'll, then you better plan on things getting messy because I'm not coming with you," I said with a smirk.

"Why not?"

"Because Felix wants me dead, Elwyn, and that's not going to change."

The woman's face fell.

"I know you didn' mean to kill Madra," She whispered, gently. I shook my head and frowned.

"I didn't kill her," I hissed, "Felix killed his soulmate, not me."

"And he sees dat now. He knows dat it wasn' your fault, dat you couldn't gontrol it. He realises dat and he forgives you!" She smiled a little.

"And how many times did he have to beat you before he realized that?"

"C'ome on, Mardina!" She sighed, though I could see the pain her eyes hid. "Dis is an olive branch! Jus' take it!"

I shook my head and I laughed. I laughed long and loud and hard. I laughed like a girl gone mad. I had told Elwyn that I had lost something when she had left me in those woods, I wanted her to know what it was.

"No," I said. Then I stretched my bloody lips into a mad, humorless grin, "I don't want your olive branch."

"Why not? Its your best chance! Don you want peace?"

"Peace? PEACE?! " I spat, "You know what he did to me, what he made me! You think after every thing he took away, that I would want peace ? You think after what I did, Felix would offer me peace?"

"I don't want peace," I said, beginning the rhyme I'd heard when I was still alive, "I want war and I want my enemy's head hung like a boar. I didn't come for money and I don't want his crown, see, I've come to burn his kingdom down. So, come one, come all, to take a dance with the dead and stain the petals of the white roses red."

"Mardina, please!"

The other vampires in the room shifted, readying for a fight. But I was faster.

Launching myself from that splintering wooden chair, I threw my body forward towards the stack of haybales Elwyn had previously sat on. I had to jump to avoid the vamp that tried to grab my legs and that pushed me forward a little too much but it wasn't something I couldn't compensate for. Landing on my hands, I shoved my body up, and over the hay bales in a vamp strength enhanced backflip. I landed on my feet and flipped my hair back. The shed's door was in front of me. Sure, it was locked but the lock was only one of those slidey metal bars which are super easy to break and if I was going to fight five vamps at once, it would be wise to keep my back to the door that way I might be able to be thrown through the door and land outside instead of pushed into a dead-end wall. Also, if I was going to fight five vamps at once, I was going to need the proper tool for the job. Beside the door, my eyes landed on a tool rack. I spied my weapon of choice. This was going to be fun .

It was one of those weird four-prong rakes that I'm not completely sure is called a rake. A label on the shaft said it was a soil cultivator but I didn't care what it was called because I was fighting for my life. The four prongs were about five inches long and although the shed wasn't new, the equipment in there thankfully wasn't that old, so the four steel prongs were still wicked sharp.

I ducked, dodging the arms of another vamp before rushing for the tool rack. Another vamp sprang in front of me, blocking my way and I paused. This one had bleach-blond chin-length hair. I knew him. I remembered him from when I was in Felix's cage. This one's name was Boyd and he liked to touch things that didn't belong to him. I couldn't fight back then, but I could now.

"How's it goin', Boyd?"

"So, you remember me, do ya?" He jeered, beginning to circle me like a predator circling its prey. Little did he know, he was not the predator here.

"Oh, I remember you alright. See, Boyd, I'm not a good little girl-" He used to call me that, "- not anymore. I don't do what I'm supposed to. See, when it comes to bastards like you, I don't forgive and I most certainly don't forget."

"Well, I guess its a real shame that I forgot your name, then. You were one of my favorites!" He laughed, "Only thing I remember 'bout you now is how loud you used to scream."

I gave him a cold smile and lunged straight for his legs. Grasping his ankle, I twisted and pulled, sending him crashing to the floor. Then I lifted his leg, rolled over, and slammed my arm down on his knee. There was an ear-splitting snap and he screeched like an animal.

"Who's screaming now, Boyd?" I taunted. I sprung up and stomped down on Boyd's throat, crushing his windpipe. As a vampire, that wouldn't kill him which was good because I wasn't done with him yet. I was going to make him hurt. Why would I want peace when I could have revenge? Revenge felt good.

I rolled away when a red-haired vamp took a swing at my head. I bolted for the four-prong rake and brandished it the way you would a staff. The rake was long, about three inches taller than me, but I easily found the balance point. I spun it around in my hand as I circled the other four vamps.

"Mardina, we gan talk aboud dis!" Elwyn tried, grabbing my arm. I threw my head back and laughed.

"No, Ellie. We can't!" I flipped the rake over, using the blunt end to whack Elwyn upside the head with supernatural strength and speed. She was knocked out. "Stay down. You're not like them and I don't want to kill you."

The red-haired vamp ran at me again and I spun out of the way, flipping the shaft again and swinging it down as he passed me. Two of the prongs buried themselves in the base of the vamp's spine, judging by the position, between two vertebrae. He howled and tried to claw at my arm but I easily avoided him. A female vamp shrieked for her friend and lunged at me from the left.

I rolled my eyes. Pushing on the shaft of my rake I distanced myself from the redhead vamp and ducked away from the female's fangs. I reached out and grabbed her shirt, using it to pull her down towards me. I slammed my head into hers once, then twice to daze her. She stumbled as I let go and switched to grabbing the hair at the base of her neck.

"Night-night, cupcake!" I chirped. Then I slammed her face into my knee and tossed my weight over her shoulder, sliding my arm around her neck. I pulled backward.

That blissful crack was the sound of her neck snapping. Jumping up and using the wall to gain some momentum, I twisted the vamp's head all the way around. It was easy with nothing but tissue and tendons in my way. Her body dangled limp from where I held her by the hair, so I opened my mouth, letting my fangs extend, and I bit her head off.

The redhead vamp with my rake still stuck in him cried out and tried in vain to reach me again. It was pathetic, really. Grinning, I wrenched the rake upward, severing the vamp's spinal cord and pulling the prongs along with two of his vertebrae straight through his back. He fell to the ground, paralyzed from the waist down because two of his bones were missing.

Just as I was about to remove his dreadful cranium from his miserable shoulders, one of the other vamps jumped at me, managing to rake his grotesquely long fingernails along my back. I released no cry of pain as he tore through my skin before grabbing me by my shoulders and hurtling my body at the wall. My face slammed against a pole built into the metal siding as the rest of my body just hit the wall. I landed on the ground with a jarring impact that I was sure had broken a few things. But I couldn't feel the pain. I was too focused on my rage. I was seeing red, and for the first time, I welcomed it without fear.

"Not so tough now are ya?" He called out.

My body was broken and yet I stood. I felt invincible.

"I know I'm not tough," I laughed. I wiped away the blood that was dripping from my mouth and nose, looking up to smile pleasantly at the vamp. "But you wanna know what I am?"

"What?"

"I'm insane, and that tends to make up for the rest."

The vamp charged me but I twisted around and Spartan kicked him into the wall. Then, using a few hay bails to step on, I vaulted into the air and brought the rake down on the vamp's head, piercing through his skull and embedding the prongs in his brain. The spray was a little gross but I didn't care. He deserved it.

"You're next, pumpkin," I called to the last vampire left standing in the room.

I crossed over to him and he managed to block my first two blows but then I smashed the blunt end of the rake into his face a few times and he was unconscious. I heard a groan and turned on my heel.

"And that brings us back to you, Boydie-Boo!" I cheered, stepping on the paralyzed vamp's hand as I passed him. I leaned over Boyd who was still on the ground, gasping for air. "Hello, sweetie. How are we today?"

All Boyd did was gasp and choke, he couldn't speak as his vocal cords had been stepped on.

"Aw! Did you get a boo-boo?" I pouted at him.

Then I grabbed Boyd by the throat at lifted him into the air. He struggled against my grasp but could do nothing. He couldn't even beg.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't you scream for me?"

He shook his head and spat at me. So, I threw him into a wall. Boyd fought to stand, using the wall to stagger upright.

"Come on, Boyd! Fight! Are you going to let yourself be beaten by a girl?!" I taunted him and pulled on the fear that was already constricting his mind. Revenge felt so good.

"You-you're not a girl," He panted, "You're a monster!"

I hummed, tapping my chin with my finger.

"I guess history will have to be the judge of that, now won't it, buddy-Boyd?" I dragged my rake along the ground, though all the blood of his friends. There was a wonderful metallic grating noise as the prongs scrapped across the concrete.

"Please don't! Please! I'll do anything!" It felt good to hear him beg.

"Unfortunately," I continued, "I don't think you'll be around to plead your case!" I hefted the rake.

"No! PLEASE!"

"Bye-bye, Boydie-boo!"

I swung the rake upward with all my might and with a sickening crunch I rammed its prongs up through his jaw. I said I wanted him to suffer. Pulling him by the prongs in his face I brought his screaming form over to the tractor sitting at the back of the room. I rammed the shaft of the rake through two spokes of one of the tractor's wheels. All it took was the flip of a leaver to send the wheels spinning.

Turn, turn, turn and scream, scream, scream, then a nice snap, crackle, pop, and then suddenly, Boyd's head and body were two separate objects. I was very happy. Then, the random vamp I'd knocked out woke up and yanked on my hair, throwing me over his shoulder.

I tried to land on my feet but failed, tripping and stumbling backward. I landed on my back and scrambled to get up. As I did, I noticed the perfect white rose that Jack had given to me had fallen out of my hair. It lay on the ground in a pool of blood. Jack said it reminded him of me, of the way he saw me. Well, it wasn't innocent or perfect anymore. But neither was I, so I think it matched me better now.

The vamp rushed me and tackled me to the ground, pinning my arms to my sides as he snapped at me with his fangs out.

Bang... Bang!... CRASH!

The door burst open and light from the setting sun poured in, falling directly on the last vamp's face. He cried out and tried to scamper away, like a rat from a cat.

"It's about time! You guys are late to the party!" I shouted.

"Yeah, sorry!" Dean said from the doorway, "Who would've thought there were so many old sheds in this town!"

I didn't get a chance to reply.

I felt the air prickle and spark, charging with a tambour of power that I recognized but had yet to experience to this degree. I turned my head in time to see Jack, eyes glowing gold, passing by Dean with his hand outstretched. Golden waves of energy shot from his being with a sound like drumbeats from the depths of the sea. The waves caught the fleeing vampire and time around him slowed to a crawl. He was lifted into the air and revolved to face his reckoning. The Nephilim's lips tugged into a cruel grin as he saw the fear in the vampire's eyes.

Suddenly, the pulses of energy stopped and the vampire was flung towards Jack, landing face-first in the dirt at the boy angel's feet. Jack knelt down, his expression seeming to consider the trembling, pathetic thing in front of him.

"P-please!" The monster managed to choke out. "Mercy!"

Jack looked up at me, his eyes soaking in my bloodied face. Apparently, that was all it took. Jack's eyes hardened and he turned back to the vamp.

"You. Hurt. My. Friend."

Jack grabbed the vampire's head in his hands and started to squeeze. The vamp screamed as the pressure increased until his skull just couldn't take it anymore. There was a crunch and a wet sucking noise as the vamp's head collapsed in on itself. I liked that sound.

"That dude's still alive," I said, casually jabbing my thumb at the red-haired vamp I had paralyzed. Jack turned to where I had pointed, ready to squeeze another brain out of its shell.

"Jack!" Cas called from behind him. "No!"

The Nephilim scowled at Castiel and I admired the rage I saw in his eyes. This wasn't my Jack but I liked this version just as much. No, Jack wasn't human, was he? He was more like me than I'd thought. Jack snapped his fingers and the red-haired vamp crumbled into dust. The sight was actually sort of pretty.

When Jack turned to look at me his eyes were completely soft and full of concern. There was my Jack.

"Are you afraid of me now?" He asked in a whisper.

"No," I replied flatly, shrugging my shoulders, "Why would I be?"

"I killed them." Jack hung his head. "Right in front of you."

"Am I supposed to care?" I smirked, hoping my voice didn't sound as harsh as I thought it did. I was just barely beginning to come off my rage-induced high. Jack eyed me with confusion and relief.

"You're hurt," He observed, moving over to me.

"Me? Nah! This is nothing." I gestured at the bodies scattered around the shed. "You should see the other guys!"

"Stay still." Jack placed his soft, gentle, hands on my face to examine my injuries and I felt a warm tingling as he healed them. "There. I fixed you." He whispered. It was more to himself than anything but I still heard it. It made me laugh on the inside.

Yeah, no. Nothing could fix me. I was broken beyond repair. It was my insanity that held me together. Does that sound like the sort of thing that can be fixed?

"Thanks, Jack-Jack!" I chirped, smiling brightly at him.

"You're welcome, Marty," He said quietly. Jack's eyes flicked down, focusing on my lips like he wanted something but wasn't sure how to ask.

"Um, M-Marty?" Sam's voice broke whatever spell the two of us had been under and I glanced over to him.

"Yeah?"

"Did you, uh," Sam pointed to the carnage surrounding us, watching me with weary eyes. "Did you do this?"

I shrugged, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder at the tractor. "Yeah, mostly. But the tractor helped."

"I'm guessing the tractor did that?" Dean pointed to Boyd's head with its jaw still run through with the prongs of the rake. I walked calmly over to the severed head, grasping it by the hair and pulling it off the prongs before returning with it back to the boys. Sam, Dean, and Cas all stared at me with eyes as wide as quarters as held up the head.

"Dean, this is Boyd," I said, keeping my tone as sweet as possible.

"Huh."

"Say hi to Boyd."

"Uh...Hey, Boyd..."

"Good." I grinned as if I was holding a puppy instead of a severed head. "Now let me tell you about Boyd. Boyd liked touching things that didn't belong to him. He worked for Felix and Felix liked hearing little girls scream and cry. So did Boyd. Boyd was very good at making little girls scream and cry, little girls like me. Weren't you Boyd?" I asked the mutilated cranium in my hand. I moved the severed head up and down in an enthusiastic nod, holding it by the hair as if it was a marionet.

"You were very good, yes you were!" I cheered. Then, like the flip of coin, I snapped my focus back to the Winchesters, wiping my face and tone clean of all emotion.

"So, I used a tractor to rip his head off because he deserved it and now he won't ever make another little girl cry ever again. Right, Boyd?" I asked the severed head. I grabbed the head's bloody, splintered jaw and clacked it's teeth together like you would a ventriloquist dummy. "You bet your britches!" I made the head answer, mimicking Boyd's voice.

"D-did he-" Sam stuttered. I flicked my gaze back to him, allowing all three to see the harshness in my eyes.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is probably yes."

"Marty?"

I turned to Dean. "What?"

"Put the head down."

I dropped Boyd's severed head.

"Come here." The hunter opened his arms and I faked a sob before accepting the hug. "You weren't gonna tell us about that, were you?" I shook my head. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now."

"Thank you for not throwing me away, Dean," I said softly. The elder Winchester chuckled.

"Don't thank me, Marty. After all, how could we throw away someone so Bad-Ass?"

"Am I awesome now?" I asked.

"You were always awesome."

I laughed and the Winchesters trusted me more than ever. Their mistake.

"Dean, that one's moving," Castiel called our attention over to Elwyn, who was just waking up.

Jack was quick to react, sending a golden blast of power to throw her against the wall where he kept her pinned.

"Wait! Wait!" She cried, "I didn' 'urt Mardina! I swear!"

"Do you work for Felix?" Dean interrogated, pushing me behind him.

"He's my fah'der but I'm not like him! I want du 'elp her! I jus a messenger!"

"Whaddia say, Sammy? Should we shoot the messenger?" Dean asked, keeping his cold eyes on Elwyn.

"No! Please!" Elwyn begged, tears slipping down her face. "I didn' 'urt her!"

"You know, if we shoot the messenger, Dean, it sends one Hell of a message." Like his brother, Sam could turn on the killer inside him like a switch.

"Felix is in Floree'ida, okay? Dat's all I know, I swear!" And it was all she knew because Elwyn had never had a backbone. There was no strength in her.

"Guess its up to you, Marty," Dean said, turning to me. Elwyn looked at me with wide pleading eyes. I regarded her with ice in my own. No second chances. Monsters don't get second chances, I know I never did. I knew I never would.

"I'm your friend, Mardina! Tell dem I'm your friend!" She pleaded. I shook my head.

"You only cared about me when Felix wasn't looking." I was almost shocked by how apathetic and passionless my voice sounded. I watched her without compassion. "You were never my friend."

"No!" Elwyn screeched, "No! I 'elped you! I 'elped you when dey beat you!"

"But you never tried to stop them."

"What?! No!" She sobbed. I smiled at her slightly.

"Go tell Madra I'm sorry."

I sent Jack a nod and with a snap of his fingers, Elwyn was nothing more than flecks of grey drifting to the ground.

Turning around with a sigh, I could feel the eyes of the four others as I bent down and scooped up the rose Jack had given me. I cradled the precious flower in my hands, watching as the blood dripped from its petals in big heavy gobs. It had been perfect once. It wasn't perfect anymore. It would never be perfect again. Or perhaps it could be, just not the right way. Because the blood was oddly beautiful with the way it stained the petals and pooled in the center of the rose.

"I can get you another one," Jack spoke up, "And I'll pay for it this time!"

I turned back to him, smiling down at my little rose.

"No, its okay, Jack. It's a crooked kind of perfect. I think I like it better now."

~All the pretty girls, they find

A way to keep you on my mind

I swear I heard you singing along

Cities pass like candy stores

And you're the one

I'm looking for

And so

I'm just a boy

Who's telling a girl

That when I grow up I'll buy you a rose

When I grow up, I'll buy you a rose~

Lyrics from: Buy You A Rose by AJR

(Author's Note: You may or may not have figured it out by now, but Martina Imogene Linville is insane. MARTY IS NOT THE HERO OF THIS STORY. SHE IS NOT A GOOD PERSON. Marty also had Borderline Personality Disorder before she went insane. So, even at her most stable points in this story, she is not to be trusted. Remember, she manipulates peoples emotions. She makes them feel what she wants them to feel. Any other character's actions may or may not actually be their own. Please keep this in mind going forward.)

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imjustaf444keriguess · 20 days ago

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okay, after reading this a bit more, yeah a pretty decent take.

i think the idea of "non-autonomous" parts should be considered and questioned, as what counts as autonomy? but that's more "something i want studied in the future from actual professionals" and less "tumblr user i am reblogging from needs to answer now"

and even then, the identity of the self is very messy. we have people with many "self" identities who don't identify as plural but instead use terms like "kinshift" or "delusional attachment" or "that part of me", and many people describe different styles of awareness and consciousness even in plural/system spaces.

do i think that non-CDD plurality is inherently that different? no! but there are often differences and those differences should be studied! especially when those differences relate to other experiences and even cultural and personal beliefs (like religion/spiritual beliefs, trauma experiences (and which kinds of trauma experiences), other disorders and disabilities, where you're from, how old you are, how large or small your system is, etc)

to me, this "non-autonomous bakugo" sounds the same as "fictionkin" do, but it depends on the person specifically and their experiences, and how separated that "self" / "other guy" is from them, and what exactly happened, and why they choose to separate/name that "part" of them, and if they've had similar experiences before, and if they're naturally prone to dissociation and/or plurality, and so on.

personal experiences that don't really bother anyone in the end. what should i care if some guy who's "actually a singlet" says he has a bakugo person/headmate/alter/part/whatever who comes out when he's upset? who cares if that bakugo is "not really an alter" or if that guy is "not ACTUALLY a system / plural" like who cares! why does it bother you !!

So, our system spent a looooong fucking time trying to reblog a post by someone that goes by @system-junk-spam but after typing it out it became unrebloggable, and then upon restarting the app we found that either they spontaneously deleted their blog or they somehow blocked us while we were typing something up, despite us having never interacted with them before. That, or tumblr mobile just straight up sucks. Highly probable.

Anyway, we worked really hard on the post and still want to share our thoughts, so we’re gonna put them here. We may get eaten alive for this take, but we’ve learned to not care what others think of us. We are allowed to believe things differently than our followers do and that’s okay. Hate will not be tolerated on this post. If I see it, you are blocked.

This is our theories on how endogenic plurality can possibly exist. We’ve talked about this before but not in great detail. We are literally just gonna copy-paste our response because oh my god it took so long to type out and then transfer to our notes app because the tumblr app was messing up. To TLDR the OP’s post, they were asking for genuine examples of endogenic plurality that wasn’t just someone actually having a CDD and thinking they are endo.

—

So, for starters, I used to be anti-endo. Kind of a dick about it to be honest, but not overly hateful towards endos. I have a post explaining that situation, where I also came forward with explaining that when I was a teen I thought I was an endo because I didn't have trauma—except I did, I just didn't know it yet. I also used to do roleplay—though not as a system, for the record. I just had characters I made that I later realized were heavily based on real alters in my brain and it was that alter's way of expressing themselves before they could be known by the host part at the time. So to say I understand where you are coming from, I understand where you are coming from. I have been that person. I went hard anti-endo at first, but slowly as I've begun healing and deciding "I don't really care what people do in their lives and it's not up to me to police that" I have become what I consider "syscourse neutral" but "fine with endos, I just don't interact with the community much because I'm not endo." Mainly with the feeling of "live and let live" and "they're people deserving of respect too" driving that stance.

I start with all of that preamble because at the end of the day, whether endos "really exist" or not just…doesn't matter. They're not actually taking our resources, they're not seeking out DID specialists because most of them know they don't have DID, and the whole narrative of them "making a mockery of the disorder" is pandering to fake claimers, who are the ones who point and laugh at the disorder whether you are endo or not. Endos are not the enemies of DID systems here, fake claimers are. And whether endos exist or not, fake claimers will still fake claim people with DID no matter what.

If you make this post with the concern that people who say they are endo may actually have a CDD and that can be damaging to their healing long term (it was for me personally) or they may take longer to realize they have a CDD (happened to me), the thing is, they will eventually discover that they have a CDD if that's what they really have. You have all of these examples of people realizing they actually had a CDD because those people eventually realized that's what they had. No matter what, at some point in someone's life, if they have a CDD and the right support, they will eventually realize they have a CDD—even if they initially think they are endogenic.

To go on a personal tangent, it was actually a very good thing that I thought I was endo for so long and got completely alienated from the entire CDD community because if I had discovered I had a CDD at the time, that could have had catastrophic consequences to my safety. When I finally started questioning the system thing again my first year of college, I not only nearly ended my life multiple times (other parts attempting), but I also ended up returning to my abusers and getting hurt again (callback programming, l'm a RAMCOA system). If I had discovered that as a teen? It could have been much worse than it was when I was an adult. I could have been retrafficked if I went back, rather than just reprogrammed and sent on my way, because I was still young enough to be “good product” as a teen, but as an adult they weren’t interested in my “service” anymore, they were more interested in making sure I remained programmed so I wouldn’t report them and they wouldn’t get in trouble. (Joke’s on them, I’m reporting them to the FBI. Suckers.)

My system finally allowed itself to be discovered in my final year of college because I was a mere month away from moving out with my then-fiancée at the time, who we believed could keep us safe should we display harmful behaviors. And we were right, even if she did end up being an abusive POS later. However, I still found out I was a CDD system and did get the help I needed. And even if the situation is not quite as dire for others, if someone who has a CDD believes they are endo, chances are, the system wants that for the time being. And who are we to try to disprove that endos exist just so people will be more accepting of themselves having a CDD? You said it yourself, that people knowing before they are ready can be damaging, so it's really not such a big deal whether or not endos are "real" if that's a way for a system to exist without having to hide while also still kind of "hiding" in a way.

HOWEVER! Now that I have become more open to the concept of endogenic plurality, I have put a lot of thought into "what if it really does exist? How would that happen??" Because gosh, how brains work is exceptionally cool, and if there is a way for endos to be real, that's pretty fucking neat.

So, for the record, I am not endo and I am not fully in their circles nor do I know much about origins whatsoever, so if anyone wants to chime in their thoughts or correct me on something, please do! For this next part, I'm calling endo alters/headmates "parts" just to keep the vocab streamlined and succinct.

Some common themes I notice in endos (for the most part):

They have basically no amnesia between parts

Some can create parts at-will, while others feel like they can't just create parts at will, but their parts just kind of exist

They usually can switch at-will or control switching to some degree or even completely

Some folks usually have some kind of trauma, but that's not saying much because all humans have trauma to some degree or another. Something I've noticed, though, is that this trauma is usually not in early childhood, but in later childhood, teen years, or adult years. (Please know this is not indicative of everyone, just what l've noticed in endos l've spoken to, don't come at me if your situation looks different please!)

All of these aspects come into play for my “theories” on how endogenic plurality can exist. For the record, my “theories” are more like…my own ponderings on the subject rather than something that should be taken as fact. Only endos can decide how they exist, not me.

So initially, my main theory with endos (which l've spoken about once, a while ago) is that it is "IFS on steroids."

IFS functions with the belief that all people have parts, and that to create cohesion in everyday life means finding ways to communicate between these parts and reach healing conclusions between them. Kinda like DID treatment except these parts don't have the "becoming autonomous and elaborating" part of DID. This is often seen in therapy related to addressing your "inner child" or "inner teen" but this can also apply to "the part of me that hates my dad" and "the part of me that wants him to love me." Remember, this is a singlet we are talking about, here! Singlets can also have conflicting and contradictory feelings about their family members. Having a "conversation" between these two parts might look like one of them stating all the reasons why it's better to cut him off because he always causes harm, while the other side may explain all the reasons why they want to keep him around. Weighing these "pros and cons" in this sort of scripted conversation between these two "parts" can help singlets come to an agreement between these two contradictory feelings and find a solution that is best for that singlet "as a whole."

However, what if someone who has parts of self like any singlet does finds a different way to converse with their parts? Or maybe not just converse, but imagine them? Consider that their "responsible self who is good at keeping on track" is the self that they kind of "dial into" at school or work, so that they stay on task—so then later, the part of themselves that prefers to goof off and have fun can have more time to do that. (These may be labeled as a “school/work self” and “home self” by singlets)

Maybe that responsible side of themselves feels like a guy whose name is probably like, Richard. And he's a boring, middle aged, office worker looking dude. And that fun and goofy version of themselves that would rather ignore homework feels like a teen named something funky like Rainbow. Well, the side of themselves that's responsible (Richard) is probably gonna get into a lot of arguments with the fun-loving side of themselves (Rainbow), which can look and feel like an internal debate or struggle of "well I can totally skip this assignment because I have a good grade and my show's season just dropped and I don't wanna fall behind while my friends are caught up" being answered with "um, no, if I don't stay on top of things, I'm gonna fall behind on my schoolwork, which is WAY more important than my show"

See how that can feel a bit like CDD but not actually be a CDD?

These endogenic IFS parts of self might even become slightly more autonomous (or seem slightly more autonomous) than a normal singlet's IFS parts over time, especially if having these internal conversations are a major coping skill during stressful times. These "stressful times" can literally just be "being a teenager" because holy shit being a teenager is stressful!! Does this mean every teen who is an endo in this sort of “IFS way” will grow out of it? No! If this is a positive coping mechanism that doesn't cause harm, they may still have these parts of self well into adulthood or even their whole life. Because guess what? Being an adult is also stressful as hell. It would make sense that these parts would follow them into adulthood.

They may even have traumas they have to address in therapy that these parts of self can help them address. This doesn't mean that trauma is held within a singular part to keep the others safe from the knowledge of said trauma like a CDD system, (even if that trauma is repressed—because even people who are traumatized as adults and non-systems can have repressed trauma) because most likely, all parts of self in this IFS situation are probably either totally aware (if it is not repressed) or totally unaware (if the trauma is repressed) and when it comes time to address said traumas, the parts (while maybe not quite as fully autonomous with completely separate experiences and memories like a CDD system) can still likely be quite elaborate and be very helpful when processing these traumas or negative experiences. Brains are cool! Brains are weird! They do weird stuff to cope with shit! I totally think it's plausible for someone's IFS parts to elaborate to some degree if it helps that person cope with life, even if they don't realize it's IFS or a singlet's version of plurality at all.

Does this mean they would technically be a singlet since they don't have a “genuinely” fragmented consciousness? Maybe?? Who are we to say, you know? If they feel like they are plural even if their consciousness is not fragmented in the same way a CDD system's would be, why not let them say they are plural? They are experiencing some kind of plurality, just completely differently than someone with a CDD-related fragmented consciousness would. Which is kinda neat, if you ask me.

I recently saw a tiktoker who explained they were misdiagnosed with DID, that they'd been re-evaluated by MULTIPLE CDD specialists and been told they do not have DID, but they have some kind of parts influenced by them being schizoaffective. They genuinely have parts of self that feel like they kind of "step in" to handle certain things, with names and appearances to boot, AND this person is very dissociative based on their scores on dissociative scales— which is why they were misdiagnosed by a trauma specialist (not a CDD specialist) in the first place. Their parts are coping skills based on their delusions. Does that make their parts any less real to that person? No, they still exist and they have for a long time, but they are not dissociative parts like in DID. They have some kind of parts that get them through daily life even though they do not have a dissociative disorder. How cool is that!!! They don't cause harm, so they're not something that has to be done away with or anything. This person can just BE schizoaffective with parts. And the therapists are cool with it. Go figure.

I haven’t even gotten to the part where someone with BPD can have schema modes that are kinda like parts. Not to mention that just because people with CPTSD and PTSD may not have fully autonomous ANPs and EPs like people with CDDs do doesn't mean that the person with BPD/CPTSD/PTSD may not try to “purposely” (or accidentally) semi-elaborate those parts by assigning names or identities to help them cope.

For example, if someone has an explosion of anger due to a trigger and that non-autonomous EP is responsible for it, they may associate that non-autonomous EP's anger with someone like, I dunno, Bakugo from MHA. (I know nothing about this anime I just know this is an angry guy don't come for me please lol) So every time this person gets triggered into an anger spiral, they may assign that behavior to a version of themselves that gets really angry like Bakugo, even though it's really just the ANP being influenced by the emotions of the non-autonomous EP. “Bakugo" may never “truly” be autonomous like an EP in a CDD system would be, but that person who has CPTSD or PTSD may feel like they "become Bakugo" every time they get triggered and angry because of that non-autonomous EP's influence. Eventually, the ANP may learn how to communicate with that non-autonomous EP Bakugo and learn coping strategies for “his” anger and process the traumas that caused that emotional response, which can actually help that person heal in the long run. I think non-CDD parts can totally be a helpful coping mechanism for trauma healing. Consider how much easier it is to be kind to someone else rather than yourself. A lot of trauma survivors are incredibly hard on themselves, but may do a 180 for their friends and uplift them when they are struggling with the same thing. If someone with C/PTSD finds it easier to communicate and encourage healing to “Bakugo” rather than themselves and it ends in them healing in the long run, I’d call that a net win.

Like sure, you can say "but they're not actually endo, they just have CPTSD" but like…if they don't have a fragmented consciousness but they feel like they "become Bakugo" every time that angry non-autonomous EP is triggered, wouldn't that kinda mean that they don't have CDD alters but still experience SOME form of plurality? They may have an extremely anxious non-autonomous EP that is like a different blorbo from their shows, or they might name a non-autonomous super depressed EP after Sadness from Inside Out. While they aren't experiencing CDD plurality, one cannot really argue that they aren't experiencing some kind of plurality, right?

And gosh, what about the folks who genuinely don't have serious enough trauma to have PTSD or CPTSD and aren't really needing the IFS parts to cope, but created their parts just because? Why not? Especially if they aren't trying to demedicalize DID a la Astrea's Web or purposely trying to throw vitriol into the community, what is the harm in it? I already mentioned that they really aren't making a mockery of the disorder, fake claimers are. So what’s the big deal, really?

Why can't we as traumagenic systems just let endos exist without concrete proof? From what l've gathered, there have been studies on non-traumagenic plurality (I believe @sysmedsaresexist has shared these studies before but I may be mistaken...sorry for the tag, SAS) so clearly scientists have noticed this is a thing that happens.

Aren't you, as a traumagenic system, fucking sick of fake claimers CONSTANTLY questioning your existence, your reality? Don't you think endos probably feel the same way towards us? Like yeah, we have a lot of scientific proof we exist, but fake claimers will straight up ignore that shit and say the scientists are wrong. Why are we doing literally the same shit? Like come on, put yourself in their shoes! Let them exist whether there's a bazillion studies on them or not! As long as they aren't trying to cause active harm to others or the community (most endos just wanna exist in peace without being constantly fake claimed and harassed, for the record—just like us traumagenic systems!), just let them be! Live and let live. We cannot dictate how they experience their life, whether it's real or not. (I personally think it is, it's just not the same as a CDD—our experiences with plurality are inherently different as a traumatized system of parts.)

I hope my very long ramble was of help to you and others?

Since opening up to the possibility of endos being real and not being so stressed about whether it is or not, l've just been a much happier person overall—not to mention have a much greater appreciation for how cool the brain is and what we as people do to cope with shit. Plurality as a whole is really fucking cool from a scientific perspective. I think being more open-minded and accepting in general will also just make you feel better as a person. We don't need to be asking all these questions, we can just let it be! It's way less stressful, tbh.

#i hope this response makes sense #i want more studies coming out on otherkin and fictionkin and plurals and systems and singlets #and how they differ and compare

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ankewehner · 4 years ago

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Livetweet of accidentally getting into fairyland...

Best twitter thread ever?

https://twitter.com/NeolithicSheep/status/1330548523721515013 Shepherd: Oh hey Ursula, do you have the number for those people who take out invasive plants still?

Ursula: Probably somewhere, yeah. They said they didn’t usually work on such small properties, though, and I don’t know if I’ve got an infestation worth their time.

Shepherd: Ok but what if I say "kudzu" to you, can we throw enough money at them to make it worth their time.

Ursula: If you say “kudzu” to me, I will panic, scream, and come running to Dogskull with a flamethrower.

Shepherd: Ok well I suggest driving but maybe pack up the flamethrower. Ursula: OH MY GOD YOU FOUND KUDZU OH GOD WHERE IS IT ARE YOU SURE IT ISN’T JUST WILD GRAPE

Shepherd: YES I KNOW WHAT WILD GRAPE LOOKS LIKE THANK YOU anyway I was walking Beamer this morning after the deer ate breakfast and the white deer was walking down toward the back of the property, you know that low tucked away part? And I thought, well, we'll just trail after her at a polite distance and if I'm lucky I'll find some of her fur caught on a bush! Wouldn't that be great! So we kept going past the big ass fucking oak trees that make, like, that weird arch? And there's kudzu.

Ursula: What big oak trees?! There’s no big oak trees back there! It’s all pine!

Shepherd: Yeah you know, the two really big motherfuckers that look like English oak. They're like, way the fuck back there.

Ursula: There are no English oak on Dogskull. Are you sure you weren’t trespassing on the Freemason’s property?

Shepherd: No they're closer to the front I think? Who's next door to them? Also I thought Dog Skull was 7 acres? Because I should be off it and hitting the road by now.

Ursula: Next door to them is the people with the trailer on its side. Do you see any trailers lying on their sides?

Shepherd: A lot of oak trees, a little bit of kudzu, zero trailers in any orientation. Some birds and squirrels. Oh hey Beamer found a nice pond.

Ursula: Okay, this is important. Do the oak trees still have leaves on them?

Shepherd: Yeah but so does the one up front. Oh wait. These are, uh, still green. Like summer green.

Ursula: Right. Okay. This could be a problem. Give me a couple minutes, we have to take trash to the dump and then I’ll look some stuff up. Meanwhile, DON’T EAT ANYTHING.

Shepherd: You mean in case it's poisonous, right? Like THEORETICALLY if I didn't see this tweet until just now and HYPOTHETICALLY I found an apple tree and ate an apple, that would be fine?

Ursula: ...that would not be fine.

Shepherd: Beamer didn't want any, which was weird I thought.

Ursula: INDUCE VOMITING! INDUCE VOMITING!

Shepherd: He didn't eat anything! I'm not going to gag my dog for not eating an apple!

Ursula: Not the dog! Induce vomiting in yourself! Every chunk of that apple needs to come out before you digest it!

Shepherd: FINE. I have puked it up. It was a really good apple, too.

Ursula: Oh thank god. Whew. Okay. The alternative was that you were gonna need a cold iron enema and I wasn’t sure how to do that on short notice.

Shepherd: Oh hey fun fact, "cold iron" is just, like, iron. It's not a special kind or anything!

Ursula: Do you have any on you right now? Beamer’s collar or tags or anything?

Shepherd: Collar hardware is all aluminum these days, otherwise it rusts. Let me pat down my pockets. Syringe of dewormer? Is that helpful?

Shepherd: Anyway I don't want to alarm you but uh. I can't find the trail I followed? So you and Kevin will need to go over tonight and give the boys [i.e. oxen] a hay bale and the goats and sheep two.

Ursula: No! I am scared of cows! We have to get you out of there! Look, I have a bunch of Llewelyn books from my teenage pagan days. I’m sure Scott Cunningham or Silver Ravenwolf covered this somewhere.

Shepherd: Scott Cunningham seems like a really drastic measure just because you're afraid of some cows. But sooner or later I'm going to run out of cigarettes so sure, why not. Oh!! The boys' bow pins are in my pocket, I was going to sand them today and oil them! They're very definitely iron!

Ursula: That’s good! That’s very good! If anyone tries to talk to you, keep hold of those! Now let’s see...do you consider yourself a “solitary practitioner?”

Shepherd: Ursula I'm an ornamental hermit, you don't get much more solitary. Also so far the only person who tried to talk to me was a frog.

Ursula: ...what did the frog say?

Shepherd: "SMOKING KILLS." I tossed it back in the pond.

Ursula: *rubs forehead*

Shepherd: Fucking frogs are all alike, I'm telling you.

Ursula: I really wish these authors had spent less time on “why Wicca isn’t Satanism” and more time on “what to do when you’ve strayed into the fae realms.” I mean, I understand it was the political climate of the time...

Shepherd: I feel like nobody really covers that last one anymore. You have 4 hours until the cows want dinner.

Ursula: Silver Ravenwolf suggests making your magical working space more inviting with stencils? These books spend a surprising amount of time on interior decorating as a vital part of ritual magick. I never noticed that when I was fifteen.

Shepherd: Yeah me neither honestly. It's remarkably unhelpful when you're stuck in faerie and your collie is getting bored. Shepherd: So you want me to... Build a magical working space and stencil it?

Ursula: I can’t actually see how that would help matters. Maybe I should check the Foxfire books instead.

Shepherd: I... Don't remember them having anything relevant, but I might be wrong?

Ursula: They have everything. Ooh, this one is about how to scald the bristles off a hog!

Shepherd: A) I already know how to do that and B) I do not have a hog, sufficient firewood, or a hog scrubbing brush here. FOCUS, URSULA. FOCUS.

Ursula: Sorry, the ADHD meds haven’t kicked in yet today...uh...let’s see...avoid whippoorwills, if you see any?

Shepherd: I do that already, otherwise they steal your toenails.

Ursula: If you harvest apples, leave one on the tree or it attracts the Devil.

Shepherd: You told me not to eat the apples! Am I allowed to eat the apples now??

Ursula: No! These are hypothetical apples! NO EATING! I tried to look up deer in the Foxfire books and there’s a story about somebody’s grandpa wrestling a buck in a mill dam and drowning it, but I don’t see the relevance here. I mean, Grandpa does sound like a badass, though.

Shepherd: I feel like I shouldn't wrestle deer here. What if I try telling Beamer to find his sheep?

Ursula: Well, research has hit a small snag. I tried googling for the foxfire books and kudzu, in case there was something about fae kudzu portals, right? But it turns out your Twitter is the third hit. Shep, we may BE the experts.

Shepherd: Uh oh. OK. In that case, you and Kevin go over to Dog Skull. Hitch up Cole and Cannon and take them back to the oak trees. Put a logging chain around one and yell real loud "LET SHEPHERD OUT OR WE START PULLING"

Ursula: Oh hell no! I read tree law Reddit! I know how this ends! Do you want us to get sued by Freemasons?!

Shepherd: I DON'T THINK THE FREEMASONS ARE THE PROBLEM HERE, URSULA

Ursula: I DON’T TRUST THEM WITH THEIR LITTLE LEVELS AND SHEEPSKINS AND WEIRDLY OCULAR PYRAMIDS Also if you see a pyramid with an eye on it, don’t eat it’s either.

Ursula: Okay. Never mind the Freemasons. I wrote a book about this once, I think. White animals, scary fae, random magic deer. It was set in Finland, so you may need to fashion some umlauts, though.

Shepherd: I've got my chore knife, I can carve so many umlauts. Do I just put them in trees until I get back?

Ursula: First of all, are you wearing pants?

Shepherd: YES I'M WEARING PANTS YOU WEIRDO

Ursula: t’s a legitimate question! I mean, I’m not wearing pants.

Now Shep, this is very important. You have to take off your pants.

Also your shoes, your hoodie, and probably Beamer’s collar.

Shepherd: Ursula. Why are we getting naked.

Ursula: To break the misdirection spell! Put your clothes on backwards!

And possibly inside out? Shit, there’s a bunch of different sources. I don’t know if they have to be inside out, but definitely backwards.

Uh...let’s see...hmm, backwards definitely. Inside out might be for leshy. Leshies? Leshys? What’s the plural form, do you think?

If you happen to see any giggling green hairy dudes, ask them what the plural form of their name is. That’s gonna bug me.

Shepherd: Beamer's collar doesn't have a backwards! I'll turn it inside out. And my clothes backwards and inside out, got it.

Shepherd: There's just, like, frogs. And squirrels. I can hear music though! There might be a dance party, I could go ask about green hairy dudes?

Ursula: STAY AWAY FROM THE MUSIC unless it’s the Freemasons I guess

Shepherd: No it's more folk music. The Freemasons play, like, Michael Jackson.

ANYWAY clothes are backwards and inside out. Beamer's collar is backwards and just to be thorough I tied the rope end of his leash to his collar instead of using the clip, so his leash is backwards too. He's pulling me away from the pond!

Ursula: Tell him to go find his sheep!

Shepherd: I have so instructed him! Hopefully there's not, like, the faerie equivalent of really good sheep here. Hey do you want me to grab you an apple

Ursula: No, they don’t come true from seed, but if you can cut me a decent slightly whippy twig with a few leaves, I might be able to root that sucker.

Shepherd: ...you want me to pause a collie on a mission while I test the whippiness of twigs??

I HEAR MOOING. I SEE PINE TREES.

Ursula: GO TOWARD THE MOOING

Shepherd: THERE'S THE OLD RUSTED OUT METAL THING! I'm back! On uh the opposite side of the property from the one I left from.

Also there's a goddamned chorus frog calling.

Ursula: Yeah, they do that.

Ursula: THANK GOD THE KUDZU IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PORTAL

...oh, and you’re back, that’s good too. Very pleased.

Shepherd: Anyway you don't have to feed the boys. Unless you want to?

Ursula: There is no situation where I will WANT to feed your giant-ass death bovines.

Also, what have we learned about following the white doe into the woods?

Shepherd: She knows where the really good apples are?

Also my boys are tiny!!

Ursula: ...I’m gonna go take a nap.

#Ursula Vernon #NeolithicSheep #Faerie

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Male alien x nb human (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the winner of the 'which monster to write next' poll (at least it was at the time I started writing it). It’s been on early release for Patreon folks for about a week now, and I was supposed to post it here yesterday, but I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

Lex is non binary, and if they lived on Earth at the moment, would most likely be assigned male at birth. Tarann (alien) is male, an assassin, and didn’t have what we might view as a normal childhood by any standards. As such, there is an awful lot he does know, and a lot that he's completely unfamiliar with...

Content: fluff, the tiniest pinch of angst, plus mention of genetic modification and sterilisation, 'creation' of genetic 'super-soldiers', nsfw, tentacle cocks (plural) Wordcount: 8000

The dull, steady voice of his ship’s computer informed him that faster-than-light travel would not be viable with all systems in their current state of blaster-riddled repair.

He cursed.

It then informed him that actually, since barely sticking the landing in a crumbling red-stone canyon, Tarann would be lucky to take off again at all.

He let out a long string of curses, even switching languages a couple of times.

“That was creative. I even detected some Tch’larian in there,” Menot, the androgynous computer, commented. “Been a while since I’ve heard you use your native tongue, Tarann…”

“Go fuck yourself with a Savaranian spiked tuber,” he grumbled, to which the computer had no qualms responding that if they were not a mere collection of unfathomably complicated code - which he had had no hand whatsoever in creating, they sarcastically pointed out - they might consider the directive.

Tarann simply shook his head in frustration and used the lower of his two sets of arms to smash the bulkhead open by the button on the wall, and stalked through the smashed-up ship towards his cramped sleeping quarters. The Spark was hardly a ship built for comfort. She was utilitarian; designed for quick escapes and aerial combat, and short-range sorties. She’d been his home for over a year now, and he’d be lucky if he ever got her to limp into the upper atmosphere of this backwater planet, let alone space. An unhealthy layer of fine red dust was already clinging to her wings and the intakes would likely need some extensive work before he could get her air-worthy again.

Mounting stress made the old implant scar in the side of his neck throb and he trailed his three-fingered hand along it, his skin currently a neutral, dull grey. Barefooted, as nearly all Tch’larians preferred due to particular shape of their three-toed feet, with one additional thumb-like digit that didn’t quite meet the ground when they stood, he padded silently along the metal floors of the ship and began to check and clean his weapons back in his quarters. The familiar monotony of clicking, sliding metal, and the smell of gun lubricant always soothed him.

“Think,” he hissed at himself.

Menot’s voice sounded over the system twenty minutes later and said, “Incoming transmission from the Agency. Would you like me to play it for you?”

He closed his four yellow eyes and inhaled steadily. Reluctantly, he growled, “Yes.”

“Agent Triskelion,” the familiar voice of his handler rumbled. “We understand that your ship took heavy damage in a dogfight after completing your last contract.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” he snarled but he didn’t interrupt the message further.

“While it was unrelated to the contract on the Red Flame, your unplanned skirmish with Invaranian Rebels did attract attention and we have intelligence to suggest that they might have attempted to trace you following your escape. You are ordered to keep a low profile and your open contracts have been reassigned to other agents until we can be certain that the Red Flame is no longer looking for you.”

The metal of his blaster creaked under his grip and he relaxed before he damaged it, taking another deep breath. He hadn’t had a contract reassigned since he’d first joined the Agency all those years ago. The humiliation of it forced his skin to change from the dusty grey to a vibrant blue, dotted with teal. Feeling like a teenager again, he forced his skin back to its neutral grey and set the blaster aside, reflexively checking the safety before it put it down.

Back at the bridge, though it was barely large enough for him to squeeze around the seat, he snarled, “Menot, record this and prepare to send it to HQ.”

“Very good.”

“Agent Triskelion, acknowledging receipt of transmission and instructions to lie low. Currently grounded in a canyon twenty clicks north west of a small mining town on a planet that’s so fucking tiny it doesn’t even have an official name.” Tarann steady himself and added, “But I’ll get Menot to send coordinates with this transmission. Ship’s pretty beaten up and I’ll probably need extraction at some point. I doubt this place has the parts I need, but I can look. I’m going to head into the town at sunrise and I’ll take Menot with me. And I’ll keep a low profile.”

“As low a profile as one of the galaxy’s finest killers possibly can,” Menot added, and Tarann cursed whoever had coded sarcasm into their system.

“Exactly,” he said. “A stranger rocking up out of nowhere in a town that tiny is hardly going to pass unremarked, but I’ll adapt.” He snorted a little at the irony of that, knowing that his rather unique genetic melange was designed for camouflage. Not for him was the messy application of paints and disguises, though he couldn’t actually change his bone structure beyond accelerated healing. “So yeah, for the love of all you hold dear, please don’t just forget about me here. End recording. Menot, send it to HQ.”

With that, he slumped into the pilot’s seat for a moment and sighed. Menot helpfully informed him that dawn was three hours away, and he told them to shut everything down save for the essentials and maintain a vigilant watch while he attempted to get some sleep.

“I’ll wake you if anything needs your attention,” Menot promised.

With the sun high in the sky, Tarann stalked across the dusty plain that formed a ring around the town. In fact, it was much larger than they’d initially thought, and Menot quietly informed him in his hidden earpiece that the town appeared to go down into the earth, perhaps following the original mine shafts.

“Puts a new meaning on going to ground for a while,” he snorted.

He was relieved as he passed through dirty, dusty, narrow streets, to note all sorts of lifeforms here - some familiar and many not. With limited biodiversity, he might have stood out like a sore thumb, but the place seemed stuffed to the brim with hopeless outcasts from all over the system. There were even some humans here, which surprised him. The temperature was hot and arid, not ideal for the creatures he’d only had brief dealings with. Earth was seen as a backwater, with the emphasis on the water. It was the kind of place people went to retire to, and that was… about it. Enterprising humans had left centuries ago and gone to the newly terraformed planets like Mars - if they still wanted to remain in their solar system - and many more had joined up with the Federation and scattered all over the known galaxies.

When he passed a bipedal, slender human male, he asked Menot to give him a run-down on the species. “Both surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult to kill, can be self-destructively curious and reckless, capable of making leaps of logic insurmountable to many species while being unfathomably illogical at other times…”

“Baffling,” he murmured. “Sounds like Agent Luna,” he said with a fond smile.

The legendary assassin had assessed him upon arrival at the Agency for unarmed combat, and somehow despite looking so… breakable, had had him on his back in two seconds flat. She’d also been the one to give him his field name, Triskelion, given that a decent number of things in his body, except his two hearts and four eyes, seemed to come in threes - three fingers, three toes, three lungs… The only trio of anatomical parts she hadn’t seen first hand was, well… elsewhere.

The fact that Luna was a fraction of his size and weight hadn’t seemed to matter at all in combat training, and he’d been very wary (and more than a bit in awe) of her since she’d returned from a mission with an injury that even the best surgeons at the Agency had said would kill her. Six months later, she was back in the field. He shuddered. Humans were like Anthariacs, once you thought you had a lock on their size and shape, they could simply morph into something else. Or perhaps they weren’t anything like that at all.

Unsettled, he shuddered again and nearly crashed straight into a small vendor’s stall in the narrow alley.

He heard the scraping voice say something, at which the ear piece translated, “Watch it!”

Shrugging off the encounter, he moved through the streets until he came to what looked like a bar with a noticeboard outside. Most of the listings were mundane requests and adverts for various services, and the rewards were in a currency he’d never heard of.

It took him a month on the planet to earn enough cash to stop having to make the twenty click trek out to the Spark every night to sleep. He would have slept in a doorway in the town had he not witnessed on his very first evening what happened to people who were caught unprepared and exposed. The sight of the slender wings being yanked off a tiny creature with a scream powerful enough to rupture eardrums had stuck with him and he’d risked the local wildlife - largely dirty great lizards - and gritty wind-storms on a daily basis to avoid that.

His handler at The Agency kept contact to an absolute minimum, except to update him periodically on the investigation that the Red Flame was still conducting and to tell him to stay holed up there. Boxed in with nothing to do, Tarann became irritable and jumpy. It wasn’t that he was itching for the next kill - he didn’t do his job for that - but the constant vigilance and insecurity of taking short, messy, shitty jobs here and there was waring him down, so when some jackass in the bar made a comment about that ‘four-eyed hill varanus over there’, he snapped. He’d encountered a hill varanus on one of his long treks back to where the Spark was still stashed out of sight in the canyon, and the enormous lizard had been curled up beside a large boulder, minding its own business until it decided to make Tarann’s sensitive inner calf its business with a maw full of teeth coated in thick poisonous saliva.

He’d been hallucinating by the time he’d managed to get back to the Spark - miraculously without dropping off the ledge and plummeting to the bottom of the canyon - and his body had been rippling through every colour in the known universe, and maybe even a few more, before he’d finally stuck a huge needle full of universal antidote into his left heart. It had taken him a whole day to recover enough to leave the ship.

Being compared to a hill varanus then - yes, his skin had the same gnarled texture as a number of reptiles found all over the galaxy, and yes, his saliva was also poisonous to a huge number of species - had suddenly broken all his carefully constructed control and he’d lunged at the large, slug-like creature, all four hands going around the thinnest point of its neck and squeezing until its eyes bulged.

“Oi!” a relatively high-pitched shout went up from behind the bar and a moment later a short blast of sound shot through the room and everyone cringed. The high-frequency noise made his insides crawl and he let go of the offending creature and staggered back a pace, toes splaying to try and steady himself. His skin flushed a sickly green before he could stop it.

Tarann turned his head and saw that the sound had emanated from a small, hand-held speaker which had been plonked down onto the surface of the bar. Behind it, wielding control of the button on the top of the speaker was - and he could have sworn that he felt his right heart lurch a little in his chest at the sight of them - a human. They had a blaster in their left hand and looked prepared to use it, if not necessarily formally trained. Their stance was pretty shoddy, but the distance of only a few spans between them more than made up for that. If the human fired, Tarann would die for sure.

“No fighting in my bar,” they said, voice stern and steady. “You got an issue with someone, you take it waaaay outside, am I clear?”

Both Tarann and the slug-thing nodded and he decided he needed another drink.

Approaching the human while they still held the weapon was probably not a wise move, but when he leaned his lower arms on the counter, his upper pair hanging loose and relaxed at his sides, Tarann saw a smile on their lips. “You must be new,” they grinned amicably, reaching below the counter to stash the blaster and pulling out a glass in its place. They then turned behind them to fill it up. “Haven’t seen any Tch’larians in here for a long time.”

He liked the way the human almost got the click at the start of the word but not quite. Some humans were known for their incredible mimicry skills, but this one clearly wasn’t as proficient. He also had no idea how to address a human after they’d just threatened his life, so he settled for a curt nod.

“And you’re about as chatty as the last one. Whatever that bit of pond slime over there -” they gestured with a bottle of distilled alcohol at the creature who’d insulted him “- said to you, just ignore them. They’re… a regular in here, but they don’t have many friends, if you catch my drift.”

“I wonder why,” he said flatly.

“It speaks!” the human chuckled. “And you’re fluent in sarcasm as well as Federation Common. Here, on the house.” And a small glass was shunted his way, sloshing with a clear, ruby red liquid. “You’ll like it. It’s a kind of brandy made with a fruit that grows in the mines. At least, the last Tch’larian I knew liked it. I could be grossly stereotyping an entire race based on one data point. Still, free booze…?”

“You talk a lot,” he said before sipping it. It burned his neon blue tongue pleasantly and then left a sweet aroma in his mouth that went up into his nasal cavity, leaving him with the impression he might breathe fire if he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, well, you don’t, so… one of us has to balance the equation.” After a beat they added, “I’m Lex.” They held out their hand over the bar counter and Tarann vaguely remembered something about touch not being a taboo for humans. Not that it was taboo for Tch’larians either, but with so many people mingling under the Federation’s relatively peaceful protection in the past few centuries, it was still easy to offend someone inadvertently.

He noted the strength in the human’s hand as he slid his own three fingers into the grasp, and smiled at how smooth their skin was. Their hair was cut short at one side and had been left to flop a little longer at the top of their head, and he’d always wondered what a human’s hair would feel like beneath the pads of his sensitive fingers. Agent Luna hadn’t exactly been the type to let him try. He’d known that Agent Luna was female, but he had no idea what this human went by, and he was unfamiliar with human naming conventions, so that gave him no clue either.

Eventually he realised that he hadn’t told them his name, and murmured, “Tarann.” It seemed fairly safe out here, and most of the people who might want revenge on him for his line of work knew him as Triskelion anyway.

“Where are you staying?” Lex asked as they got back to work, keeping their head turned towards him a little so that he could still talk to them while they polished glasses and took orders from the odd patron.

“Out of town,” he said.

Lex paused halfway through pouring a bottle of something frothy and blue into a glass the size of a small bucket. “There’s nothing out of town…”

“My ship’s out there. Dead in the water, as it were,” he offered, taking another sip of his brandy. “This is excellent, by the way…”

His compliment was met with a grin, but the gesture quickly faded. “You’re not seriously sleeping in your dead ship out in the hills, are you?” they asked.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“You’re lucky the scavengers haven’t found you and stripped your ship - and you - bare…”

He tilted his head and blinked his four golden eyes at them. “I haven’t seen any sign of anyone out there except me. And the odd varanus…”

Lex winced dramatically. “Nasty fuckers those…”

Tarann nodded, rolling his right ankle. “Indeed.”

After a pause, Lex looked like they were about to say something, but the crash of glass on the other side of the room stopped them. “Shit, not those two again,” they hissed, and Tarann looked around just as a fight broke out for real this time.

They grabbed the blaster he’d seen before and the little speaker that emitted the unpleasant noise, and strode off around the bar, ignoring him completely where he sat. He had eased his lean, muscular frame onto a bar stool to take the weight off his frankly rather bruised and sore feet. The unpleasant sound seemed to do nothing for these two as they scrapped - all arms and teeth and roars, and even when Lex shot a quick, low-energy blast into the stone floor beside one of their feet, they didn’t break it up.

He should stay out of it. The human had guts, for sure, but the two creatures that were fighting were large and aggressive, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A stray flail of the tip of one of their tails caught Lex in the face and they staggered back, yelling and spitting curses.

Making his mind up, he slid off the stool and approached the brawling patrons. Grabbing the nearest one by the scruff of their reptilian neck, he yanked hard and backed towards the doors of the bar, clearly catching them completely by surprise. Top thugs never expected to be bested by anyone, and it gave him a good few minutes of stunned compliance. Tossing them out onto the street with a snarl of his own seemed to sober that one up a mite, and a second later the other creature was booted out of the door with another curse, leaving Lex framed in the open doorway, blaster raised, face slightly bruised and utterly thunderous.

Something happened then in Tarann’s body that he was not expecting. A sharp, unfamiliar pang of arousal shot down his spine and fanned out through his entire nervous system. He shivered, a low-frequency rumble escaping him without permission. There was something about seeing a creature that should have been vulnerable in this situation - could have been crushed - standing there with a bruised face and blazing eyes, staring down two enormous beings three times their size, that made him hot all over. It was like mating season, or at least, his vague recollection of it from a brief talk at the Facility to explain that none of them would ever experience any of that because they had essentially had it edited out of their DNA. He’d escaped the Facility and joined the Agency and had never experienced the slightest tinge of lust since a brief flare in his teens. He bit those memories down and looked back at Lex.

“Thanks,” they grinned as the two brawlers separated and headed off in opposite directions down the street, yelling curses over their shoulders in their various languages. “How’d you feel about another brandy?”

He nodded and followed them back inside, watching the way their legs moved - their legs hinged forwards at the knee, which was intoxicatingly the opposite way to his own, their hips swaying rather alluringly.

“Listen,” Lex said as Tarann closed his fingers around his second glass of fiery brandy that evening. “If you’d like somewhere to stay, I’ve got a job opening here for a bouncer. The last girl I had got into trouble with some bounty hunter and had to scarper, but it comes with the offer of a room, use of the kitchen out the back, and a steady pay. It’s not great, but if I get tips, I’ll share them with you.”

Tarann blinked. “You can’t be serious…”

“Why not?” Lex shrugged, refilling a container with a viscous, silvery sauce that crackled softly as it sank into the jar.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the offending liquid, he made a mental note to avoid that at all costs, whatever the fuck it was supposed to be or go with.

Lex caught him staring sidelong at the fluid and laughed. “One of a small number of things on the menu that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except a hazmat droid, or an Efulgari bombardier -” they added nodding across the room to where a frankly enormous creature sat waiting patiently, presumably for the bucket of viscous gloop in Lex’s hands. “Now, do you have to get back to your ship tonight, or do you want to stay here and think it over? You can let me know what you decide in the morning.”

He scowled softly; wary and distrustful. “You’d just let me stay?”

Lex shrugged again. “You’ve already earned your keep for tonight,” they grinned, revealing hopelessly small teeth. How could they hope to defend themselves with those? His own, by comparison, were two rows of viciously pointed fangs that could rip open the jugular of most of the known species that didn’t have exoskeletons, and even some that did.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

Lex left him in peace after that for an hour or so, but when the patrons began to trickle out into the night, they returned to him and asked, “Want to head up to your room?”

He nodded silently, and followed Lex through a door behind the bar and upstairs.

“That’s my room,” Lex said, nodding at a door with peeling teal paint which stood ajar on his right. “And this is yours. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and I kept it pretty clean. There might be just a little bit of dust…”

Again, Tarann just nodded his understanding and set his small pack down gently beside the bed. The room was indeed humble, but that wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have many belongings anyway; just Menot in their portable device and some clothes and local coin. “It’s fine,” he said, turning round to find Lex leaning against the door frame in a way that spoke of casual trust and again made his skin flush hot. Embarrassed, he looked away, but Lex didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps they didn’t notice.

“Kitchen is downstairs - it’s the only other door than the one that leads to the bar. You can’t miss it. Help yourself. See you tomorrow, I guess?” they smiled, running a hand through their hair and messing it all up in a way that did nothing to help the rising temperature of his skin or the syncopated lurching of his twin hearts in his chest.

With a final nod from Tarann, Lex left him for the night.

He heard them closing up about an hour later, and then caught the steady tread of their footsteps on the metal stairs, the squeak and click of their door, the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and, another few moments later, the gush of hot water. In the corner of his own room was a sink, so he splashed the dust and grime off his face and decided to ask about a shower in the morning.

The rhythm of his life for the next few weeks was considerably easier than the first had been. Menot kept him abreast of activity both regarding his ship - nothing, mercifully - and the Agency. After three weeks working for Lex, the two had become the very thing he had always shied away from. Assassins don’t form attachments; they don’t form friends. Do the job, get out cleanly, and move on. That was how he lived, and yet, the regular ebb and flow of patrons - most of them familiar by now, a few of them new - and the easy manner of the ballsy human who ran the place lulled him quietly into a new life.

He constantly tried to remind himself that it was a borrowed life; a cover, almost. This cosy existence with its easy repartee between them and the comfort of a soft bed and regular meals was not his to keep, and he would have to shrug it off the moment that he was given the all-clear.

One evening, seemingly at random, Lex closed up early.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked as Lex politely shooed the last drunken creature out of the door and locked it behind her six scuttling legs. “What’s going on?” His natural instincts set him suddenly on edge all over again, perhaps because he’d grown so complacent of late. He didn’t like changes to patterns. It had taken him a little while to relax into this one, and even then, he didn’t exactly ease up on the vigilance.

Lex grinned at him like they’d won some kind of cash-prize, hands balled into fists at their hips, and announced, “It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “What… What does that mean? You’re… You’re giving birth?” He looked at Lex’ body and couldn’t see any indication that they were carrying some form of offspring.

Lex gave a huge snort and bent nearly double laughing.

“Apparently not,” Tarann mumbled. “Apologies.”

“No,” Lex waved, straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s… that just… caught me off guard. No, I’m not giving birth to anything today or ever. It’s…” and then they fell quiet, almost sad, and said, “You really don’t know what a birthday is?”

He shook his head, feeling unsettled.

“Huh,” they mused. “Well, simply put, it’s a celebration of the day I was born. Back on Earth, we celebrate them roughly every 365 days because that’s one complete orbital cycle of our planet around our Sun. Roughly. Give or take a decimal point or two…”

They stared at him and he grew even more uncomfortable. Birthdays were not something celebrated at the Facility where he’d been… raised. The old scar in his neck where their implant had been throbbed and his skin changed colour quietly from grey to a dark blue.

Lex took a step closer and placed their fingertips on his upper forearm. It wasn’t the first time Lex had touched him, but it was the first touch like that; gentle, careful, concerned. “What does that mean?” Lex asked softly.

Tarann wanted to run, but instead he forced himself to ask, “What does what mean?”

“That colour change? I’ve worked out a few already. You go a kind of bright blue when you’re super embarrassed, but I’ve not seen you turn that colour before…”

“You noticed,” he said with a half-smirk, revealing all his dangerous teeth behind his thin lips.

Lex twitched a shoulder but didn’t let go of his arm. “It’s hard not to notice you,” they said voice shifting lower in pitch. “I love watching your skin change. You know, it reminds me of these old antique lamps back on Earth… they’re called ‘lava lamps’ but they’re not actually made of lava. It’s wax or something. Anyway, when you turn them on, they get hot, and the wax inside floats to the top of the liquid in a blob, and when it cools down a bit, it sinks down again. They’re super old and rare now, but some of them change colour slowly, and it’s kind of hypnotic. I remember going to a museum and staring at one for ages. It’s like that with your skin.”

They circled their thumb over a small area of his arm and he shuddered.

“I think it’s beautiful…” And then Lex’ skin flushed and he caught the way their pulse throbbed in their neck, the veins and arteries so close to the surface as to be impractically vulnerable, but they didn’t seem to want to protect it with armour. “Anyway,” they blurted, releasing him so quickly that he actually swayed a bit at the loss of contact, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What was I saying?”

“It’s your birthday,” he croaked after a pause.

“Yeah, so, uh… I figured maybe we could do something? There’s an Earth recipe involving pasta that I’ve finally managed to get all the ingredients for and I wanna make it. You game?”

“Game?”

“You want to help me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Lex deflated a little. “You can take the night off if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said firmly. It never hurt to add to his knowledge.

“Ok then,” they smiled, and he caught the way their shoulders dropped a little, the muscles relaxing again. He’d answered correctly.

In fact, the meal ended up tasting alright. Human food seemed strange to him, and perhaps a little bland, but after the protein blocks he’d been raised on, anything tasted alright compared to those. What really made his evening was Lex’ obvious enjoyment. Their eyes were sparkling and alive, like jewels, and they laughed a lot.

They also made some significant inroads into the fiery brandy afterwards, and ended up slumped against Tarann’s left shoulders, smiling softly and running their fingertips over the slight, flattened bumps in his skin along his forearms.

“I can’t believe you have four arms,” they said, their voice slurred and their eyes vague.

Tarann, who wasn’t drunk, shifted slightly and jostled them. They snuggled up again immediately in a new position which forced him to put both his arms around their shoulders as they lay against this chest this time, and giggled. “Why not?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to ask. They were beautiful and strong and tough at work in the bar and during the day, but he got to see a different side before and after work. The fatigue, the loneliness, the gentle-heartedness was never on show for the patrons of their scruffy, homely bar, but for him, they showed all that and more. Now, unwinding even further as the alcohol took effect, Lex became even more talkative than usual, which was saying something.

“Because you’ve got four!” they exclaimed, as if it was blindingly obvious. “And four eyes. I like your eyes. They’re like crocodile eyes.”

Tarann had no idea what a crocodile was and wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

“And you said you’ve got two hearts?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, feeling brave and bringing his lower hand to rest quietly on Lex’s stomach as it rose and fell. Their body was warmer than his and he liked the tingling that ran across his skin at the touch.

Lex fell surprisingly silent for a while, their fingertips still trailing idle lines along his skin, until they looked up into his face from their slouched position - now with their head in his lap - and asked, “What did you do before you came here?”

Faced with the utterly open honesty in those deep eyes, he found himself suddenly unwilling to lie or even bend the truth. “I was a contract killer. I am still a contract killer. I’m just… lying low for a while.”

Lex blinked. “That explains it,” they muttered, eyes turning back to his arms.

They hadn’t even flinched at the revelation, which set a different prickling running across his nerves. “Explains what?”

“The way you watch people. You don’t see people though, do you. You see soft bits and armoured bits, dangerous bits and weak bits. You see exits from a room and weapons where there shouldn’t be any…”

Inhaling softly, he nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

They shook their head. “No. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?”

“Because you… you haven’t really lived… have you?”

“I don’t understand.”

Lex lurched to sit upright then, dislodging Tarann’s hands from their stomach and swivelling to face him, their eyes now blazing with intensity. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you react when I touch you?”

The leap from ‘not living’ to ‘reaction to being touched’ was too great a one for him to follow and he narrowed his golden eyes in confusion.

Lex’s face softened and they climbed awkwardly into his lap, swaying slightly. The sudden, warm weight of their body so close to his own stole his breath for a moment and he felt his skin change from grey to acid blue to a dull pink and finally back to grey in the space of a few heartbeats. “See?” they murmured, rolling their hips invitingly and smiling as a low-frequency mating rumble left him before he had realised what he was doing. “You come alive beneath that touch…”

“I…” he began but stopped when he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. It was perfectly true. He did feel utterly different when Lex was touching him. “I’ve never… There’s never been any need.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, placing their hands on his chest, one over each thudding heart.

Tarann became almost painfully aware of his rasping breathing, the way his body was heating up, the stuttering rhythm of his hearts, the tingling in his groin that he’d never bothered to explore, even alone… “I was created to become a weapon. I was incubated and hatched in a facility which created weapons. They sterilised us before we were even born.”

Lex did look shocked at that. “Fuck… that’s… that’s so heartless… But even so, I can’t have kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to get my dick wet from time to time…”

Tarann, again, didn’t understand. Lex was speaking Federation Common, but the nuances that the human put into their words were frequently lost on him.

Seeing his confusion, Lex laughed, rolled their hips again, and this time Tarann noticed something a little different at the front of their pants, a hardness that hadn’t been there - or hadn’t been as prominent - a few minutes earlier. “I still like to have sex,” they grinned.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to have sex though,” they went on. “I’m just saying, it’s ok to let someone close. And to enjoy that. However you want to.”

“Oh.”

Lex laughed and tipped their head back a little, looking free and relaxed again now that Tarann’s confusion had been cleared up. Being unsteady with alcohol, however, they kept tipping back until Tarann was forced to grab them with both sets of hands to stop them toppling off; one pair around the waist and another around the arms.

“Steady,” he smiled. “I think maybe you should have some water. And head up to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I had a good birthday though,” they added, gently peeling the three fingers of Tarann’s lower right hand off their waist and bringing it up to their lips. The gesture they left there Tarann knew was called a kiss. Humans weren’t unique among lifeforms in nuzzling intimate parts of their anatomy against the other’s, but the strangeness of it for his species held an instant fascination. How could their lips be so soft? How could he never have done that? How could he never have wanted to share this kind of experience with anyone before?

And before he could stop it, his skin flushed a deep maroon all over like a drop of ink on wet paper, splotched here and there with dark purple. He knew what that meant for his species, and the sight of his own skin changing to the colours of an individual receptive to mating made him freeze.

“Well,” Lex chortled amusedly. Apparently they knew what it meant as well.

“No,” he said immediately, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was rejecting.

With a knowing but slightly melancholic smile, Lex clambered out of his lap and stood up. “Night, Tarann,” they said as they walked away. Their hands brushed against the door frame as they left the bar, and he stared at the spot where their fingers graced the woodwork even as their footsteps vanished up the stairs.

His skin did not change back that night, no matter how much he willed it to change. Half an hour later, as he lay in his bed, the sounds of Lex pleasuring themselves reached his acutely sensitive ears. The tiny, muffled moans and grunts that left their body set his skin aflame all over again. He moved one hand cautiously, experimentally down his torso to the slit where, to his astonishment, he was slick and sensitive. He gasped at the touch, and the three delicate, tentacle-like cocks which normally never left the sheath began to unfurl almost curiously into his hand.

Ordinarily, this might have repulsed him, but the sound of Lex gasping and the slick sounds that accompanied the moans, made the tentacles of his genitalia coil demandingly around his fingers. He knew almost nothing about his own species’ reproductive habits because he knew he would never need them. ‘You will never be a breeder,’ they had said when he’d hit sexual maturity - the first time he’d even bothered to explore his body, and, until that night, the last - and that had been that.

Sparks of pleasure shot through his whole body and he began to croon, the sound deep in his throat, rumbling and vibrating like an idling engine, filling the room. He couldn’t stop it. Balling his fingers into a fist, he felt his three pale cocks coil around it instinctively, and he began to kneed exploratively at the inside of the flower-shape they made around his hand, a thin, extremely sensitive membrane stretching between them from the root to about a third of the way down. The pleasure that that elicited made his back arch of the bed and his toes scrunched up the sheets as he lifted his hips too, pressing harder at the centre of the three smooth, increasingly slick tentacles.

Forcing himself to focus back on the sounds of Lex as they apparently approached their climax, he felt a wall of heat building in him. Something was approaching, and he let it sweep over him until the three tentacles surrounding his balled-up fist pulsed, gripping his hand tight as a vice, and warm fluid spurted from their centre over his clenched fingers in a series of messy gushes. His vision went white, his body went rigid, and his mind went completely blank.

Tarann floated in a blissful haze for a long time before he could even bring himself to move, his cocks too sensitive, his hand covered in sticky, slick release, but eventually his cocks retreated back into the sheath in his lower abdomen and he felt able to sit up. His hand was a mess, his lower body too, and when he tried to stand, his muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he’d run the training simulation at the facility for an entire day without breaks.

With his skin so sensitive that it was hard to fall asleep that night. Lex must have finished during his own orgasm because he never heard another noise from their room that night. Shame curled in to replace the pleasure as he realised that he’d eavesdropped on something that was private and not meant for his hearing, and in the morning, he could barely look Lex in the eye as he entered the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Lex, however, smiled warmly. The effects of the alcohol the previous night seemed only to have made their voice drop a little and their reactions were groggy and slower. “I think I'm going to keep the bar closed today,” they announced as they poured themselves a hot drink. “You’re not hungover at all, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “It takes more than that to get me drunk, let alone hungover.” ‘Hungover’ was a term he’d only learned since working for Lex.

“So…” Lex asked a little while later as they cooked breakfast for the two of them the hob. “If you’re only here to lie low for a while, do you know how long you’ll actually be here?”

“No.” Apparently Lex hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t remember their conversation last night. He paused and added, “But the last transmission the Agency sent me indicated that the people who were looking into the disturbance after my last contract were no longer investigating.”

“So… not long then.”

“Probably.”

Lex poked at the pan with a wooden spatula and sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

He could see the way Lex’s jaw worked from side to side for a moment and recognised it as one of their tells. They were upset. “You think you’ll miss me when you leave?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “You’ve been extremely generous to me when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Right.”

Tarann knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately, but none of his intense training had prepared him for this kind of situation. He backtracked through the conversation, searching for something he could have said differently, something he could have handled better. Lost, he asked falteringly, “Will… you miss me? Is that what this is about?”

Lex nodded without turning around. “Yeah,” they said, voice cracking slightly. They cleared their throat and poked at breakfast again. It smelled ready but they didn’t seem ready to turn around.

Tarann stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone floor, and placed his hands boldly on Lex’ hips. The human immediately eased and leaned back, resting their weight against his body, though their head barely came midway up his chest. Taking the opportunity at last and sensing it would be welcome, Tarann brought his hand up and stroked his fingers gingerly through Lex’ hair. It was every bit as soft as he’d thought it would be, and he watched his skin change colour beneath the strands as they brushed over his fingers. Lex moaned quietly.

When he lowered his hand and Lex saw the maroon fading back to grey, they smiled and turned around, switching the hob off as they did. They put their own hands on his chest and he ached suddenly to have nothing separating them; to remove his close-fitting space-suit top and Lex’ loose-fitting shirt. As Lex slid one palm tentatively up to his neck, he felt the touch in a wave of heat and closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on Lex’ hips and Lex moaned softly.

“I want you,” Lex murmured. “I thought about you last night.”

Tarann opened his eyes a crack and blinked softly. “I heard you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Lex laughed, looking part bashful and part turned on. “What did you do when you heard me?”

“I…” he flushed neon blue and stepped back, ashamed.

“Hey,” they breathed, chasing after him. “It’s alright. It’s… really hot that you did that while thinking about me.”

“You don’t mind?”

They shook their head. “If you wanted to try together…”

That mating call thundered through him and he lowered his forehead, bringing it to touch Lex’.

“That a yes?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I overcooked it all already,” they laughed. “It’s ruined.”

Grabbing his hand, they tugged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs to their room.

They shed their clothes in a tangle, and once again Tarann was left staggered and enchanted by the human’s body. This time it was the sheer vulnerability of it. He could also see their arousal plainly - there was no sheath to tease - and something about that made his own sheath throb so hard he let out another mating croon.

“Fuck, that sound is so hot,” Lex gasped, lying back on the bed and tugging him down atop them. “Look at you,” they added, running their fingers down his heaving chest and playing with his sheath as he collapsed atop them. “I’ve always found Tch’larians attractive, but you… the way you move, the way you shudder when I touch you, the way you fucking croon like that…” He did it again - entirely involuntarily - as Lex crooked two fingers and delved carefully into his sheath, catching the inner walls of his three cocks inside and making them unfurl even quicker than they had last night.

They wrapped around Lex’ fingers and Lex moaned. “I want those on my cock… please…” they gasped, and Tarann felt like he might die if he didn’t do as Lex asked. His body was so tight all over, his skin flushing from dusky pink to dark magenta with every deep, sonorous groan that escaped him.

With one leg on each side of Lex’ thighs, he lowered his hips down until they were touching, and his cocks immediately curled around Lex’ own hard cock, covering it in weeping, slick fluid. Lex let out a string of curses and flung their head back into the bed beneath them, rutting their hips up into Tarann’s grip. The pressure of the tip of their cock against the point where the three cocks joined inside him made him growl with pleasure, his maw full of teeth opening, his saliva starting to fill his mouth, bright blue tongue lashing behind them.

“You know…?” Lex panted, thrusting up into the wet heat of the grip that his tentacle cocks had around theirs.

“Know what?” he snarled back, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright over Lex.

Lex reached up to his face with a fingertip and trailed it around his drooling mouth before putting it in his own and sucking. The sight of it sent Tarann into a fury of lust for some reason, and only then did he recall that his saliva was poisonous to many species. Before he could warn Lex, the human grinned and their eyes went wide, pupils blown until their irises were a mere whisper of colour. Apparently he wasn't poisonous to humans. Quite the contrary if the way Lex fucked upwards into his body and filled him with sparking pleasure with each thrust was anything to go by.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Lex hissed, and Tarann felt his cocks contract around the hard length inside him.

He didn’t have the breath or the words to agree.

“I’m… I -” Lex cried out, and suddenly heat flooded the inside of Tarann’s sheath and he felt his own cocks clench and pulse rhythmically around Lex’ cock as he came too. He drew every drop from Lex that they had inside them as his own orgasm rolled through him and left him mute, panting, and thrumming all over.

“Fuck that was intense,” Lex chuckled some while later, when Tarann’s cocks had finally let go of their own softening cock. “Are you ok?”

“Mmm,” he rumbled from his new position, slumped on the bed beside Lex, his trio of cocks lying limply across his torso, splayed out and spent and utterly sensitive.

Lex sat up, heedless that their own body was covered in their combined release, and trailed their fingers down Tarann’s torso towards his still pulsing sheath. “Can I?” they asked.

Tarann didn’t reply but he responded with a shrug. He had no idea what Lex intended, but he trusted them. What Lex did was to lean forwards and take one of his cocks into his mouth and suck on it gently. Tarann’s whole body lurched and he bellowed at the sheer volume of the sensation as it thundered in his head and under his skin all over again.

“Too much?” Lex laughed.

“No?” he gasped, trying to steady his spinning head and suddenly racing hearts. “No. Definitely not too much. Just…”

“Intense?” Lex supplied.

“Do it again?”

Lex did.

—

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#alien #male alien #alien x human #exophilia #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #non binary character #non binary human

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birdwonder · 5 years ago

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Genos and Saitama | Your Heroes

|| whoo, another amazing request from @tishimaaa! honestly people, feel free to request stuff from me, it makes me so happy! i really hope you all enjoy this lil’ fic - the main plot was a struggle to come up with, but the request for a reader who liked taking photos was so cute and perfect. <3

[F/N] [L/N]. Full time journalist and sadly, only part time blogger.

As generic as your occupation sounded, your life could be the furthest thing from that. You were a young adult, living in Japan in an apartment with decent rent but little to no neighbours, which made perfect sense seeing as your surrounding area was a honeypot for swarms of monsters that were ready to kill and slaughter.

Now, as horrible as that sounded, it wasn’t all that bad! As a journalist, it gave you an easy and early access to juicy scoops that you could impress your boss and editor with; and it gave you a heap ton to talk about for your hero fan blog online. Not to forget - you weren’t living alone. To be specific, you had two other roommates living in the cramped apartment that had a generous amount of space for one person, but no room at all for three.

Well, you say roommates but more officially they were your boyfriends. Emphasis on the plural. It may be unconventional to have not one but two lovers, but after staying with the both of them for such a long time and all three of you developing mutual feelings, why just settle for one when everyone could be happy? Genos, or more popularly known as Demon Cyborg by the masses, and Saitama who was doomed with the title Caped Baldly, were the two that had captured your heart. Your perfect heroes. Which worked well considering the fact that you were a hero fanatic, and they were always out doing something incredible that you could add to your page. Well, Saitama did a lot less than Genos but when he did fight oooh boy. Was it amazing.

It was seriously painful to know that Saitama got absolutely zero recognition for his heroic efforts, especially when he hasn’t lost a single battle to your knowledge! It’s the same routine really; a villain approaches, one hit and it’s over. ‘Caped Baldy’ really didn’t do him justice. He deserved a better name like ... The Punching Man! Or Single Punch.

You should really just stick to writing about heroes instead of creating them.

Sometimes when you felt like your blog had gotten dry or you were in desperate need of material for your work, you would wait close by Genos so that you could be there when he was alerted of any ‘approaching life forms’ as he occasionally put it or monsters that were attacking the cities.

Right now, your head was rested on his shoulder while you were sitting on the floor in front of a small TV, neither of you really paying attention to what was being said on the screen but it made for great white noise as the two of you simply enjoyed each other’s company. It would be even greater if Saitama was there too, arms wrapped around your waist or his head on your lap as he usually liked to laze about with you, unfortunately he was out buying groceries.

You sighed contently as Genos reached over to take a strand or two of your hair between his fingers, trying to get his sensors in his finger tips to pick up on the texture as he’s done so many times before. “It’s so soft...” He noted, focused so intently on your hair that it might as well been what was on TV instead of the weather report.

“Thanks Genos,” you laughed, winking as you joked, “I make sure to keep it brushed and conditioned just for you.” As appreciated as his praise was, you were certain that no matter if your hair was straight, curly, long or short, he would probably have something nice to say about it.

“Don’t do it for me! You should be taking care of yourself on your own accord. I read somewhere that treating your body well and taking care of yourself can help keep your mood up by a large scale.” The cyborg began to ramble, listing off a number of ways that you could pamper yourself as though he was a walking self-care beauty kit ad. At least you knew that next time you went shopping, you had the OK to buy a face mask.

As informative as it was, you lifted a finger to his lips to hush him, something you usually did when you wanted to keep him quiet. Or kiss him. That usually worked but then he wouldn’t speak for a good ten minutes.

From there the two of you continue to sit in comfortable silence until you heard the sound of a door unlocking and opening, causing you to lift your head from Genos’ shoulder to see Saitama had returned, hands filled with bags which had increased since the time you and Genos officially moved it. Thankfully being a journalist and S-ranked hero helped cover the expenses.

“Sai, welcome back!” You greeted with a sweet voice that instantly put a small smile on the C-ranked hero’s face.

“Hey. See you two are comfortable.” Saitama then proceeded to start putting the products he had bought away, careful to not put something cold in the cabinet or rice in the fridge since he was trying to do it all quickly to join your cuddling session. How dare you two be lazy and snuggle up when he had to sort out 50 coupons at the check out to find at least one that wasn’t expired? Unforgivable. “Totally not like I was outside freezing my ass off or anything”

You snickered at his sarcastic comment and made a ‘come here’ gesture. “Well if you hurry up, you can join us, dummy.”

“Or you could help out? Better yet. I sit down and chill and you do all of this, and cook lunch. And make some dessert while you’re at it maybe.” Saitama retorted, huffing at his lack of assistance while you cheekily grinned and tapped your chin, as if deep in thought.

“Hoooow about ... no.~”

Throwing his head back a little, Saitama groaned with annoyance even though he knew he wasn’t going to stay mad at you. “Maybe you want to help out, Genos?” He queried, raising a brow at the cyborg who had suddenly stood up, startling you from his unexpected move. Was he that excited to help sort out groceries?

“There’s something outside. No. Two beings are nearby.”

Finally, some action! Your eyes sparkled with excitement, looking back and forth from Genos and Saitama with an expecting look, knowing that they'd have no choice but to go check it out. After all, no one came round here except for monsters, and they wouldn’t dare let you sleep in a dangerous environment. What sweethearts.

They gave each other a nod, both knowing what they had to do, before looking over at you. “Stay here, [F/N]. We’ll be back in a short bit, just put the food away for me, yeah?” Saitama asked, only needing to take a few steps to be standing in front of you and place a hand on your head. In return, you leant up to peck his cheek as a good luck charm, a thing you usually did when they were about to head out.

“Do your best out there, guys!”

“We will do even better than that,” Genos corrected, mimicking Saitama by also patting your head. Guess he was trying to learn more from his sensei than just how to become a strong hero.

With that they were both gone and you were left in the apartment, standing in the middle of the square living room by your lonesome, but not for long! Turning on your heel, you rushed over to a corner of the room where you usually dumped your bag after work and rummaged inside looking for your camera.

You cheered a small ‘yes’ once you grabbed it, rushing to the door to slip your shoes on and dash out the house and down the building’s stairs. It took a lot of frantic looking around to find out where they went but luckily they had moved to one street over, already battling it out.

Well, Saitama was just standing there talking or maybe debating with one of the monsters who looked like a mix of porcupine and a mole rat while Genos was going head to head with an identical looking being but slightly taller and stockier. Already a few seconds in and you had snapped a few shots of Genos landing hits on the monster.

From the safety of just blatantly standing behind a brick wall’s corner, you continued to take more photos while the excitement of going home to upload them to your laptop was bubbling inside you. Obviously a few of the more up close and handsome would be saved for yourself . You may love sharing the amazing abilities of your lovers to the world but even you got a little jealous over fans looking at Genos too much.

‘It’s not fair, why is he so perfect?’ You mentally complained, cursing the fact the cyborg looked so good while also being a badass fighter. Sadly for you, you got way too wrapped up in your thoughts and failed to noticed the looming figure behind you.

With no warning or even an idea with what’s to come, a large hand wrapped around your throat from behind, forcing a gasp and sickly choking sound to escape your throat.

“Lookie, lookie. A little lamb fresh for the slaughter house,” a gruff yet arrogant voice cooed, sending all the worst kinds of shivers down your spines. With a grip tight on your throat, it was hard to move your head, especially when the stranger’s hand seemed to cover the whole surface area of your neck. Yet you managed to tilt it just enough to see the face of your attacker.

A deep blue mole like muzzle sniffled disgustingly near your face, as if to take in your scent. Small, black squinting eyes seemed to be heavily focused on you and it was clear by his much larger porcupine quills and stature, that this guy was the superior of the two other beasts fighting Saitama and Genos. Damn, he must have been too far away at first for Genos to have detected him.

“Let...go!” It was hard to choke out the command and all of your energy was going into swinging your legs back and forth, and scratching at the hand holding you in hopes it hurt enough to make him release his grip on you. To no avail, his hand didn’t so much as loosen.

In the most mocking manner ever, the mole creature barked out in laughter and seemed to even tear up a little at your feeble attempt of escaping. “Don’t be stupid, little thing! As the Rodent King, I’m making it my mission to expand my empire by killing off every single one of you miserable humans,” he boasted, chest puffed out as though he was announcing the world’s greatest news. If you had the energy to, you’d roll your eyes. “From a burrow in the woods to the whole of the miserable planet, and then the world, I will claim all of this land and my people and I will live long and fruitfully!”

Despite it being loud and obnoxious, the monologging rodent’s speech didn’t take your mind off the serious lack of oxygen you weren’t getting and your limbs began to go limp. The camera that was once in your hand clattered to the ground and shattered, the majority of it still being connected together with all the inner components sprung out and the lens had to have shattered; not that it mattered to a dead person.

The loud clatter of the camera caught the Rodent King’s attention, and his looked down to spot what had fallen and yet he asked, “huh? What was that?” His nose sniffed a couple of times, trying to find the scent of what had fallen and then it struck you. He’s as blind as mole. This guy relied on scent to see!

“No matter, it doesn’t matter now.” He shrugged, letting go of your neck, causing you to fall onto your knees and gasp for a desperate amount of air. ‘Oh sweet oxygen, don’t ever let me lose you again. I promise to walk more to work, I really do.’

Meekly, you looked up to see that your nightmare wasn’t over. The monster was now knelt down on one leg in front of you, one arm resting on his propped up knee and another was raised above your head, a large, clenched fist ready to crash down on your skull. “Like I said, you humans are destined to die by my hand! Now, any last words?”

Shit, shit. What to do? You weren’t ready to die, not like this. You hadn’t regained enough air to cry out for help, so all you had right now was yourself to save you. You and a ... busted camera! Patting around, you knew that the Rodent King wouldn’t notice your fidgeting so you quickly tried to search for it while still keeping eye contact with him, just so he didn’t grow suspicious.

“Yeah actually... Just three.”

Got it!

You grabbed ahold of the largest chunk of the camera you could find, and pulled back your arm, smashing the once treasured device onto the villain’s face while simultaneously quickly standing up. “Eat shit, bitch!”

A pained cry came from the Rodent King, who slapped his previously raised hand over his face to cover where the camera had hit him. Just like you, he had quickly gotten up though you were already taking two steps away from him. Now, if you could just run away, you could head for the other two! Oh God, how you wanted to hold them. To feel safe and warm in their arms.

That desire crashed down like a burning plane however when you felt your arm be grabbed. The mole clearly was strong enough to recover quickly from the minor attack, and he looked furious, quills sticking up much higher than before. “You bitch! How dare you! Do you know who you are dealing with?!”

Before you could even make a clever comeback, or a pathetic cry for mercy, the hold on you suddenly became non existent when a blast had hit the head of the Rodent King, sending him flying back a couple of feet away.

‘Huh? Wait, that could only mean,’ you cut off your own thoughts by swiftly turning around to see two figures standing in front of you, your boys. Oh, and did they look pissed.

“I believe it is you who doesn’t know who they’re dealing with.” Genos harshly stated, a now closing canon whirring from within his hand as he glared at the now writhing in pain monster. Saitama looked just as deadly, his expression darkened and already he was stepping closer to the villain.

“I’ll take this one Genos, just make sure that [F/N] isn’t hurt.”

With an accepting nod, Genos gently put an arm around you and pulled you close to his side, guiding you further away from the street for the sake of your wellbeing and your eyes not seeing what bloodshed would probably ensue.

“[F/N], what were you doing there? Do you know how dangerous it is to follow us into battle?!”

The scolding stung a little emotionally though his concerned expression and gentle hands lifting your chin to brush over any potential bruising on your neck made up for it, letting you know that it was just the stress of losing you that had gotten him so riled up.

“I’m sorry, Genos. Really. I just,” you choked a little, tears threatening to spill but you wouldn’t let them, “I just love seeing you and Saitama fight, and I’m just so proud to have such incredible boyfriends- I guess I just wasn’t careful enough.”

The robotic hero sighed. He couldn’t understand why you would risk yourself for a couple of candid photos of him and his sensei, especially when you weren’t even close to being evenly matched against any hero or villain. Though it didn’t mean he wasn’t flattered, plus he also knew that heroes were a passion of your’s, something he wouldn’t dream of trying to change.

Brushing some of your hair from your face that had gotten loose and messy from the scuffle you had, he rested his forehead against your’s and let a beat of silence pass before speaking. “It’s fine, please do not let yourself cry over this. Just next time, give us a warning? We will maybe try and work something out if you are so insistent on getting photos of our fights.”

That made you smile a little. As stoic and harsh as Genos may seem, his heart was usually in the best of places, especially when it came to those he cared about. It’s one of the reasons why you love him so much.

“Sure hon, though I doubt I’ll be taking any photos any time soon. I may have smashed my camera back here while I was being, y’know.” A weak chuckle left your lips, and Genos was about to say a few more words of comfort for your loss of a prized possession when a much calmer than before voice spoke up.

“No biggie, we can just buy you a new one, right?”

Turning around and smiling softly, the usual nonchalant expression of Saitama was as welcoming as a warm hug on a winter’s day. In his hand was a brown wallet, a few yen notes poking out of the pocket which gave the idea that a lot was inside. “Turns out even rat things carry about cash on them, and if I’m right this should cover for a new camera.”

Saitama placed a hand on your head like earlier, his eyes soft while glancing at you, something you responded to by pulling him into a tight hug and burying your face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. A much better thing to soak a few tears in than his flashy hero outfit, in your opinion.

“Oh thank you so, so much. You guys really are my heroes.” You sniffled, pulling your face away from Saitama’s chest. “I love you boys so much!”

Of course, the two had to smile at that, both leaning down to plant a small kiss on a temple either side of your head. “We love you more,” Saitama chimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder while Genos opted for holding your hand loosely, which was usually out of his comfort zone in public areas. Luckily, it was only you three.

“Now, I believe Sensei brought some food home, yes? Shall we go prepare some lunch?”

“Oh yeah! If you two could make some soba that’d be great.”

“Oh Sai...”

#one punch man #opm #one punch man x reader #saitama x reader #genos x reader #x reader #request #i've always wanted to write a OPM fic #saitama #genos #caped baldy #demon cyborg

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1188

Have you ever shared a shower or bath with someone as an adult? I did it a couple of times with a past girlfriend, but I’m honestly not a fan of it unless I’m somewhere with a serious lack of bathrooms and it’s the only choice available. I like my space when I get myself all cleaned up lol.

What kind of pizza toppings do you like? Different kinds of cheeses do it for me, really. If I absolutely have to pick toppings, I do like bacon, bell peppers, barbecue chicken, or onions on my pizza.

When did you first take a shot of alcohol? I have no idea, actually. Maybe 20? 21? I never noted the year down. I don’t even know the first shot I ever took...if I had to guess, it was probably tequila.

Did you babysit for money when you were in middle school? No. I babysat because I was the eldest daughter and granddaughter in an Asian household, haha.

Who is your favorite band? How long have they been? Paramore; 17 years, have loved them for 14.

Has the last person you kissed ever been to your house? Many times. She used to be a welcome guest.

Have you ever been to a spa? I don’t think I’ve ever entered one, no. There’s been no reason to in the past.

When talking on the phone, do you place it against your left or right ear? Right. I don’t remember ever placing it on my left, come to think of it.

What’s your favourite Lunchables meal? Idk, I’ve never had them. American thing, I’m guessing.

Do you like Bob Marley? I don’t hold an opinion on him; I’ve never tried listening to his music.

Have you ever eaten at Golden Corral? Nope, I don’t know what that is, either.

Do you sit and eat dinner at the same table with your family? Yes, we have dinner together every night. We’ve been doing it since the start of the pandemic; and, with that, since my dad has had to stay at home since he can’t report to work anyway considering the situation. I imagine we’d be back to eating separately once he can report back to his job.

Are you listening to any music right now? If so, what are you listening to? Yeah, I’m listening to Map of the Soul: 7 and UGH! just started playing. This is such a good FUCKING album it’s absolutely insane how good it is. Whatever spirit possessed BTS throughout 2019 to produce an album this unbelievable wasn’t playing.

Who was the last person to make you genuinely smile? Hobi, since I rewatched the Run BTS segment where he called Conan O’Brien ‘Curtain.’

Is there something you want to say to someone but can’t/won’t? No.

Do you like men who have a sensitive side? I think it’s nice when anyone has a sensitive side and isn’t ashamed to be in touch and expressive with their emotions. Doesn’t have to apply to just guys.

Have you ever tried to get someone into a certain band/artist? I don’t do that with any of my interests because I don’t want to potentially irritate or bore someone, or to potentially face the disappointment I’d feel when they don’t end up being enthusiastic about what I’m into. I’m totally okay with my interests just being My Thing, no need to drag other people into them.

Have you ever carved you and someone else’s initials into a tree? Nopes.

Do you like Dairy Queen? Just some items, like their Oreo Frappe or whatever it’s called. I’m not a big fan of ice cream cakes and I’ve never really explored their Blizzards.

Is there anyone you know with an amazing personal success story? Andi.

Is there a song in a different language that you can sing? Well Filipino is my first language rather than English, so yes.

How do you feel about bands that use pyrotechnics in live concerts? I’ve never experienced this other than One Direction using fireworks at the end of their concert here (and they weren’t launched from the stage either, but somewhere backstage), so I don’t really know what to feel about this other than they should just make sure they’re following safety protocols and standards to avoid mishaps.

Ever fallen down a hole? I don’t think so.

Do you like bananas? Not so much, but I don’t passionately hate it as much as I do other fruits. I do like some dishes that incorporate banana, like banana bread and banoffee pie. Recently I discovered Korean banana milk and it ended up tasting pretty good!

How long do you normally spend in the shower? Not even 10 minutes, usually. I've never understood how people can take such long showers. < Yeah, pretty much on the same page. The only times I take a while is if I feel like shaving, but otherwise I shower quickly. Maybe around 4–7 minutes at most.

Have you ever been a featured member on any website? I don’t think that ever happened, at least when having featured members was still a thing.

Have you ever had any weird pets? Nope.

Are you currently talking to/texting/instant messaging anyone? I am not. Though I know I have unread messages from Andi...I just don’t feel like checking them right now.

Have you ever experienced insomnia? Only when I was a teenager. It’s been a while since I’ve faced any trouble in trying to fall asleep.

Do you like egg nog? I’ve never had a chance to try it but it sounds delicious, and I would definitely take a sip the first opportunity I get.

Would you ever wear Converse with a prom/formal dress? I don’t see why I would have to but if it’s just for funsies, it sounds pretty harmless so yeah, I would.

Do you prefer hot chocolate with or without marshmallows? Withoooooooooout. I’ve never understood marshmallows.

How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? In a romantic sense, none. But I’ve cried for other reasons, like when I mourned over my grandpa and Nacho.

Would you rather be a surgeon or mortician? Surgeon, since there’s a tiny part in me that had always wanted to take up med school.

Would rather be a musician or a painter? Painter, if anything. I’m not creative by any means, but I feel like I’d enjoy a lot more freedom with painting.

Would you rather write your own book or make your own movie? [continued from last night] Write my own book I suppose, but I could only work with non-fiction. I’d embarass myself if I had to write something not based off of real life.

At home, do you have a trampoline? No. But this reminds me of when we’d go to Rita’s place to have meetings whenever we couldn’t hold them in school. She’s the richest one out of all of us, lives in a very old money village, big-ass house, big-ass kitchen, big-ass receiving areas (plural)...and they also have a nice trampoline in their big-ass yard. We always used to horse around in there as soon as we were done with our meetings.

When you are about to go to bed, do you put on some sort of noise? I used to put on a YouTube video that would entertain me enough to feel relaxed and eventually sleepy, but I haven’t done that in the last few weeks. These days I usually look for a fanfic to get absorbed in, then I read until my eyes start feeling heavy.

What is your favorite Christmas movie? Love Actually or It’s A Wonderful Life.

And what about your favorite Christmas song? It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas makes me feel festive and fuzzy.

What is your ultimate favorite stocking stuffer? My family doesn’t really keep up with this tradition. I remember how our grandparents would fix up stockings for us when we were much younger, but they were usually filled with candy.

After Halloween, do you sort out all of your candy into little piles? I never collected candy for Halloween.

When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? Depends. The rare times I’m working and do feel like putting headphones on, the volume has to be just decent enough so I can still focus. If I’m not doing anything else or at least doing something that doesn’t involve too much ~brain activity~, I like my music very loud.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? It doesn’t really count as breakfast but I’m currently finishing off the remaining two pieces of McNuggets I got last night. 10 pieces is apparently too many for my appetite, haha.

What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? Cooper has probably been the biggest and heaviest so far.

Do you own any kind of helmet? We have a bike helmet here at home, but it’s not exclusively mine.

Out of everything currently in your refrigerator, what food or drink is your favorite? I don’t memorize the fridge so I can’t tell you my favorite food that’s currently in it; as for drink, I just stick to cold water.

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? Sprained ankle after I tripped at one of the parking lots in school.

Do you like the taste of cough syrup? I’ve never had it.

What is something you like to have conversations about? People with experiences vastly different from mine, because it lets me explore different perspectives. It’s why I always look forward to family reunions with one of my uncles - who’s a foreigner, from a very different country - since he’s able to share a lot of fun and reflective stories about his life and stuff he did in his youth, stuff I never got to experience and live through.

What all is in the trunk of your car? The trunk used to be my trash can lmao, back when I was still driving everyday. My mom has since cleared it out since the beginning of the pandemic; I believe only a laptop bag is sitting there now.

Do you ever put fruit on your cereal? No. I don’t even eat either.

Is your heat or air conditioning currently on? My electric fan is. I don’t turn on the aircon until the evening.

Have you ever fallen off of a horse? Nopes.

Which do you value more, your appearance or your intelligence? Both are important to me.

When was the last time you drove something other than a car or truck? I don’t remember. I’ve only ever driven cars.

Were your grandparents present when you were born? Neither set wasn’t in any of the photos from my birth, so I don’t think so...? My maternal grandparents definitely wouldn’t have been present, since my parents had been living in Manila then.

If you drink/smoke, how often do you do these things? I vape...pretty much all day. I’m doing it while taking this survey. As for drink, I would say 1-2 times a month. Usually after a particularly grueling shift.

What do you think of fast food? I love it. Unabashedly. I just don’t have them a lot because I don’t find it filling and the quality is obviously lower; but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way fast food tastes.

What website do you spend the most time on and why? Google Suite, if it counts. I work 5 days a week; it’s pretty much an extension of me at this point.

What’s the most amount of time you’ve spent online? Is this usual for you? All day. I’m always using the internet to do things. I used to be embarrassed of it, but these days I feel like having a connection is virtually an essential.

When it comes to travel, what kinds of places intrigue you most? Museums, historical sites, cultural sites, and spots where they show you how they do practices native to the place. I’ve always been about immersing myself in the cultures of the places I visit.

What is the farthest you’ve walked in one day and what made you do it? I remember having to walk for a very very very VERY long time when we were in Bali - my family wanted to explore more of the city - and the weather wasn’t cooperative at all, so I ended up feeling super cranky. I remember also walking around a lot in Shanghai, but that was a slightly better experience since the city was incredibly lively and there were a lot of things to see and stop at; not to mention the weather was also kinda pleasant. The cold was biting but I would always rather be too cold than walk around with sweat-soaked clothes.

What is something important that’s often on your mind lately? Our financial situation what with Covid affecting both my parents’ jobs. We get by enough for me not to worry too much, but I also hope my dad can get called back to his ship soon just so I can finally exhale with relief.

What about something unimportant, but you can’t stop thinking about it? My workplace recently introduced this workout challenge thingy for the month of May that we’re invited to join to encourage us to get fit and healthy. I get notifications whenever someone’s able to exercise for the day and it makes me feel super pressured hahahaha. Since I don’t wanna be known as a killjoy co-worker I know I’ll have to take part in it, which I will start on later.

Do you like oatmeal? If so, what kinds of things do you like in it? No. Back in elementary my grandma made me eat oatmeal every day for breakfast before heading to school, so I don’t ever want to have another bowl of it.

What was going on the last time you felt nostalgic? My family and I were having a conversation during dinner last night and for some reason it eventually veered towards mine and my sister’s experiences from our first school and how we managed to get up at 5 AM everyday, have classes from 7 AM–4 PM, then get home from anywhere between 5–6 PM for 14 years straight. How tf did we do that and never complain???

How much attention do you pay to the movements of the stars and planets, and do you believe they influence anything? None.

What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? While I love watching playthroughs, I am not skilled at video games at all and in most video games I’ve played I never made it past the first mission, unless I was playing a Nintendo game that’s already marketed for kids in the first place lol.

Which accent do you find most sexy, alluring or appealing? There’s a certain British accent I find very pleasant to listen to, but since I know there are a lot of variations I’m just not sure which one it is. I guess an accurate point of reference would be Hugh Grant’s or Florence Pugh’s accent.

Which accent do you find most annoying, disturbing, or bothersome? None of them.

Can you cry on cue? Is it any kind of useful? Nope.

Does it take you a while to actually get jokes? Sometimes.

Can you wear socks to bed or does it annoy you? I don’t really like the feeling of socks, so no. I find them a bit itchy, and too tight.

Have you ever bleached your hair? Never done it before.

Do you like jelly beans? Erm, it would depend on the flavor, I guess. But they aren’t so much my snack of choice. The texture is a bit weird.

Do you have trouble sleeping when it’s storming? Not at all, I feel a lot cozier when it’s raining hard.

Who was the last person you know that graduated? (high school or college) Sofie posted her graduation photo not too long ago, so probably her.

Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming? I never had a babysitter because I was the babysitter.

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No. I went to an all-girls school, so I didn’t even get to interact with a lot of boys until the middle of high school.

Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? Nope.

Who was your best friend in elementary school? Angela. I was also friends for a long time with a girl named Jaynie, with whom I actually started to reconnect ever since she found out I was now into BTS. I find it so cool; I don’t think I’ve talked to her since the 2nd grade, 15 years ago.

Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? I didn’t.

Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. I'd put them on my dresser everywhere to the point it was absolutely covered. < Literally this entire answer; I don’t have any clue how my overly neat mom managed to never spank me for destroying her closet. I also liked collecting Pokemon cards and pogs even though I never knew how to use them. It just felt nice having large stacks of them lol.

Did you get an allowance? Not until high school. My grandma (and eventually househelp, when we moved) fixed up packed lunches for me and my siblings. When my mom decided to stop having house helpers at home, that’s when she started giving us an allowance to buy recess and lunch ourselves.

Were you into American Girl dolls? I was never into dolls in general. Since my sister and I were the only girls at home, we were surrounded by toys marketed for boys and that’s what I enjoyed playing with more.

Were you friends with your childhood neighbors? We played with the neighborhood kids every afternoon but I wouldn’t call them friends. I was a very shy kid and I found them too rowdy for my liking, especially the boys.

What was your biggest fear when you were a kid? Flying cockroaches. It’s still one of them.

Did you ever play the "Reader Rabbit" computer games? I don’t think so.

Did your parents let you drink soda growing up? I’m pretty sure they would’ve allowed me to, but I just never liked the feeling of fizzy drinks so I never drank soda anyway.

What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? I think I liked mocha sponge cakes growing up, but that has changed now.

#survey #surveys

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as-clear-as-crystal · 5 years ago

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If I Couldn’t Find You (Prompt Fill)

Good morning! @theoceanismyinkwell This is to fulfill the prompt you gave me a couple months ago from the whump prompts list: "“I’m not hurt.” “You are actively bleeding.” “Oh, so I am.”

I was so happy to get a prompt; and I'm sorry it took so long to write. But! I had so much fun writing this story. It was longer than I first planned it, but I'm kind of a more is more type of person when it comes to fic. 😅

Anyway, thanks for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy! To read on AO3, click this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898108

Or, click to read more...

If I Couldn’t Find You

Tony was in a great mood. He’d spent the previous evening with Pepper, and his morning with Rhodey over brunch. The two friends were just stepping out of Rhodey’s favorite cafe in Manhattan when Tony got a call. He frowned when he saw the picture that flashed on his phone, swiping his screen immediately and putting it to his ear.

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, “Who’s that?”

Tony glanced at Rhodey, “It’s Peter’s friend... Leeds, you and Pete are supposed to be at a museum; please tell me you haven’t gotten yourselves in trouble.”

“Oh. Uh. Sorry, Mr. Stark, sir, but I think Peter might be… We were outside waiting to be let into the museum this morning, and he heard something bad going down a couple blocks away. Said it sounded like a robbery? He hated just standing there listening, so he snuck off to check it out, but he’s still not back, and that was two hours ago, sir, and I’m really worried. I’ve got a bad feeling; he’s got his phone turned off. I don’t know what to do, I’m so sorry, sir...”

Tony felt like he’d been doused with ice water. Rhodey edged closer to him, eyes narrowing in concern. Tony’s mind was racing with possibilities, but he had a procedure for situations like this.

First, track the kid.

“Friday, track Peter’s suit and phone. Pull up the location when you have it.” Tony said without preamble, praying that the phone and suit and his kid were all in the same actual location. “Leeds, you did the right thing by calling me.”

“Can you… tell him to call me when you find him? Please.” Ned sounded distressed.

“Yep, that’ll be on my list of things to tell him. Catch you later, kid.” Tony hung up as Friday pinged the locations for the suit and phone.

Locations, plural. The suit being in an alley a couple blocks from the museum where Peter’s class was meant to be that day, and the phone being forty miles north of that, in some abandoned packing-house, and Tony felt like he might vomit. Instead, he tapped his chest.

“Honey Bear, I need your help,” Tony’s pleading eyes turned to Rhodey’s, just before his suit formed around him, closing him off.

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

Tony was preparing his descent on the packing house when Rhodey called him.

“I’ve got his backpack, and his suit’s here, Tones,” Rhodey reported. “But, it sounds like Pete got himself in trouble. I spoke to a couple shop owners, they said the cops were here earlier responding to an anonymous call.”

“That was Peter,” Tony informed him, “Friday told me he’d made a call, before his phone was turned off.”

“Well, the shop owner said he was being held at gunpoint - and a teenager came in to say the cops were on their way; tried to talk the gunmen into leaving. They did, but they made the kid go with them.”

“Why the hell wasn’t he in his suit?” Tony would be pulling his hair out if he could. Why did his kid insist on doing stupid shit like this? Tony was going to ground him until he was forty. Fifty. He was going to implant a tracker in his -

“The suit notifies you when he wears it. Maybe he didn’t want you to know he’d ditched his class field trip,” Rhodey suggested.

“Well, surprise. I now know. Million dollar suit and he leaves it in his backpack. I swear to God, Rhodes, I’m gonna...” Tony took a deep breath, “Can you just… I’m gonna have Happy pick you up, and meet me at this location? What else did you find out?”

“No problem; I got your back on this,” Rhodey told him. “All I know is the cops are on the lookout for an unmarked white sedan. Surveillance cameras were unable to make out the license plate, and as you can imagine thousands of cars match that description…”

“I think I found it,” Tony told him as he approached a building. A dirty white car was sloppily parked near the side entrance.

“Don’t kill anyone,” Rhodey ordered.

“No promises.”

Tony eschewed all subtlety in favor of blasting his way inside. Friday’s sensors indicated four adult males, and zero teenage idiots, inside. But the kid’s phone was there, and those men were his only lead. They started shooting first, but of course the bullets ricocheted off his suit. He registered a lot of yelling, but that didn’t matter. He blasted two of them before grabbing the nearest asshole by the collar.

“Listen, Dipshit, you have ten seconds to tell me what you did with the kid you kidnapped this morning.”

“Whoa - what kid? - Shit! Hey!” Tony lifted the man up so his feet could barely tap the floor.

“Wanna try that again, Jackass? Because if he’s disappeared, then so do you -”

“No, wait, we didn’t do anything, that kid was crazy!” The man tried fruitlessly to loosen Tony’s grip.

“The hell are you talking about? Where is he?” Tony demanded. He didn’t appreciate man’s use of the word was. “Two seconds, and I’m gonna rip off an arm.”

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

“One,” Tony snarled.

“He jumped out of the car!” The man was practically crying at that point; probably recognizing how close Tony actually was to making very good on his threats. “We were going over a bridge and he- he just jumped out! We- we- you gotta believe me, we didn’t even touch him!”

Tony took a second to breathe. Peter was Spiderman. Peter could feasibly jump out of a moving vehicle and onto a bridge and still be ok. His kid could do that. In fact, maybe it was his best option to escape these assholes. Peter would be fine. Except, if he was fine, then where was he? Why hadn’t he called anyone? He had to know by now that at least Ned would be freaking out. Peter wasn’t the kind of kid to just make his loved ones worry like that. Uncertainty was gripping Tony’s lungs like a vice.

One thing Tony did know for sure was he didn’t feel any sympathy for the man crying in his vice grip. Peter wouldn’t have been jumping out of cars at all if he hadn’t been forced into one at gunpoint.

He pulled the man’s face close to his mask. “Where?”

“Wh-where?”

“Where were you. When the kid. Jumped out. Of the goddamn car?!”

Sobbing, the man finally gave Tony an actual location, and he wasted no time incapacitating the crook, asking Friday to contact local law enforcement as he grabbed Peter’s phone from one of their pockets. Then, he was shooting like a rocket towards the kid’s last known location.

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

Tony called Rhodey in-flight.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Tones, the kid’s strong.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know he is. Just, get here soon as you can. Please.”

Tony slowed down when he approached the offending bridge. It was short, spanning over a lazy, shallow portion of a river. There was a decent amount of traffic, but it wasn’t too bad. He had Friday scanning the area as he dipped under the bridge.

Nothing. There was nothing.

Considering it had been probably approaching two hours since Peter had escaped the moving car, Tony shouldn’t have expected the kid to still be there. But, then where the hell was he? Tony flew along the bank. There was a golf course on one side and a strip mall on the other. Had Peter fallen in the river? Hit his head and drowned?

No, no, no, no. Come on Parker, I need a clue, here.

He had another minute of freaking-out searching, before a new call was being pushed through. Given Tony’s calls were all filtered by Friday, he accepted it with a guarded hopefulness.

“This is Stark.”

“H-hey, Mr. Stark! Uh, so a crazy thing happened, today. Um, please don’t freak out - ”

Tony sucked in a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. He’d been sick over the possibility of never hearing that voice again.

Thank God. Thank God.

“Pete?! Where the hell are you? Are you hurt? Friday, track this call - take me there now. And, please get Rhodes and Happy the new coordinates... Kid? Hey, I need you to answer me, Pete. Are you hurt?”

“Oh. Ok, this is not, uh, not freaking out.”

“Parker, are you hurt?”

“NO! I’m fine, Mr. Stark, I swear, it’s - OH, God, did Ned already tell you what happened?” Peter groaned miserably. “He did, didn't he?”

Tony loved this kid so much, and he was going to kill him.

“Tell me what? That you ditched school to interrupt a robbery, without the suit that I so lovingly crafted for you - to keep you safe - and that you were abducted at gunpoint and taken out of the damn city?”

“Oh, yeah, well that’s a lot more detail than I expected Ned to know about…”

“Rhodey, Happy and I have been searching for you since Ned called me an hour ago, which was apparently two hours after he’d last seen you. I just threatened to rip the arms off of someone, because I couldn’t find you, Peter! What the hell would I do if I couldn’t find you?”

“God, Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry…” Peter sounded like he might be very close to tears, and Tony shut his mouth, clenched his fists, counted to ten… He saw Friday guiding his suit to the call’s location. It looked like some old payphone at a service station on the other side of the golf course.

“I really would’ve called sooner, Mr. Stark,” Peter was saying, “but they had my phone, and everyone I approached acted like I was gonna attack them or something, they yelled at me and some of them threatened to call the police, and I didn’t know if they’d believe me if I told them I’d just been abducted, so I hid and looked for some spare change in the golf course, and then I found this really old fashioned pay phone...”

“Ok, listen Pete, it’s ok, just breathe.” Tony was going to wrap this kid in bubble wrap. He was going to put a tracker in his watch, and in his shoes, and...

“So, can you please maybe send Happy to come get me, sir, because I don’t even have my wallet so I can’t get on the bus, and May will actually murder me if she finds out that I ditched my field trip…”

“I’m gonna get you, kid. Come on, you know I’m gonna help you. I thought we were past this… I’m almost there. So, just stay where you are…”

He heard Peter sniff on the other end. “Wait, are you in the suit?”

“Am I in the suit?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Are you serious, right now, Parker? You were kidnapped. You better damn well believe I’m in the suit.”

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

Tony descended on the service station, to see his kid - finally, thank God - in the flesh, and felt his throat tighten. He was dismayed, but not particularly surprised, to see just how much Peter had undersold his injuries. He was soaking wet, missing a shoe, and he had a bruise on his chin and across the bridge of his nose. Dried blood crusted under his nose, and a trail of blood still dripped from a cut on his forearm.

But, he was there. He was alive.

Thank God.

Tony disengaged the suit as Peter ran into him. The kid wrapped his arms around him, and Tony just stood there senseless for a few breaths before he returned the embrace.

This kid was gonna be the death of him.

“Pete, what the hell?” He reproached softly. “You look like a damned drowned puppy.”

Peter started to pull back, but Tony held him by the shoulders at arms’ length.

“Mr. Stark, I really am sorry - “

“Hey, no - we can talk about that bit later, Pete, but you said you weren’t hurt…”

“I’m not,” he said, “I’m not hurt, I’m fine…”

“You are actively bleeding right now,” Tony remarked dryly, touching Peter’s sleeve right above the injury.

Peter looked down as if seeing the wound for the first time.

“Oh, so I am,” Peter said quietly. He looked back at Tony. “I must’ve scratched it when I jumped out of the car. I don’t even really feel it.”

Tony gently touched Peter’s nose, the bridge of which was a hazy blue, and swollen. “Do you feel that?”

Peter frowned. “It does not feel great.”

“May be broken... we’ll get it checked,” Tony said. “Did those assholes hit you, or did this happen when you leapt to freedom?”

“No, they didn’t hit me, they just tied my hands when I was in the car, and then… I didn’t know what to do, because I couldn’t break the rope while they were watching, right? Or they’d know I was too strong to be a normal... guy. So, I pulled the car door open and jumped out, but it was kinda hard to land with my hands still tied…”

“That was really dangerous, Pete, even for Spiderman…”

“They would’ve killed me, I think,” Peter looked at him, eyes haunted, and Tony felt a chill run down his spine. “I was really scared; I didn’t know what they wanted with me - to be a hostage or what - but they took their masks off in the car, so I didn’t think they were gonna let me go…”

Tony sometimes hated his mind, and the thousand possibilities that he could see all at once - the ways in which this whole scenario could’ve gone so wrong. The ways he could’ve lost this kid...

But, right then, Tony’s hands were still holding onto Peter. He was safe, and Tony promised himself he would do whatever he needed to do to make sure this scenario never happened again.

Tony cleared his throat. “You’re shivering. Come on, there’s a diner across the road. We can wait for Hap & Rhodey there.”

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

Tony gave a huge tip to the wide-eyed waitress who greeted them at the diner.

“He’s had a rough day,” Tony whispered to her after he’d sent Peter into the bathroom to at least wash his hands before eating. “We’re just gonna wait here until his dads come pick him up. You don’t happen to have any towels, do you? I’ll pay for them.”

The waitress, bless her, nodded and disappeared into the back. She returned with three fluffy hand towels and a stack of dish towels, just as Peter was exiting the men’s room. She then led them to a booth towards the back; a seat which afforded a good view out the window, so Tony would be able to see his friends when they arrived.

Thankfully, the place was nearly empty, and the patrons that were there didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. Tony ordered four large meals; not knowing when Peter’s last meal was, or if Rhodey or Happy would want anything when they arrived.

As soon as the waitress was gone, Tony picked up the fluffiest towel in the pile and tossed it to Peter.

“Dry your hair, Parker, you’re gonna catch cold.”

Peter caught the towel and eyed Tony warily before obediently rubbing his hair with it.

“Listen, Mr. Stark, I really am sorry…”

“Kid,” Tony sighed, feeling extremely tired, “every time you apologize, a fairy loses its wings.”

“I - I know, I get it, I keep apologizing,” Peter peeked at him from under the towel, and Tony’s heart clenched again with the thought of what could have happened. “But, I want you to know, I wasn’t just… trying to be reckless, or - or trying to ignore your rules. I just… Can’t let bad things happen to people if I’m there to stop it.”

“And what about you?” Tony raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “Who stops the bad things from happening to Peter?”

Peter frowned, “I was fine.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna work on your definition of ‘fine.’”

“The man was begging for his life.” Peter whispered harshly, flinging the towel down against the seat, not wanting anyone nearby to hear, but clearly needing Tony to understand. Clearly thinking Tony didn’t understand. “I couldn’t just stand there with my class and go on into the museum and listen to him getting murdered. I couldn’t… I - I had to do something!”

“Then wear the suit, Pete,” Tony ground out slowly through clenched teeth, pitching his voice to match the kid’s, even quieter, knowing Peter could hear, leaning forward to add emphasis. “The suit I made for you, so you could go save people when bad things happen to them, and so I would know to go save you when bad things happen to you!”

“I couldn’t wear the suit when I was supposed to be in class!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because then you’d know I was… out.”

“Yes. Yes! Then I would know! Yes, that’s the whole entire goddamn point!” Tony hit the table - not loud enough to get them kicked out of the diner, but loud enough to drive home the point.

Peter stared at Tony like he’d just grown two heads. He blinked several times, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

“Peter?” Tony reached over and poked at the kid’s arm. “Did I break you?”

“Ok, wait, so would you have been ok with all this if I’d just worn the suit this morning?”

Would he have been ok with all this?

Something Rhodey had said before they’d left on this whole wild goose chase came back to him…

”Maybe he didn’t want you to know he’d ditched his field trip.”

Tony leaned back in his seat; trying to put himself into the mind of a 16-year-old. When Tony was 16, he was a little shit. He was already enrolled at MIT, going to parties and getting into trouble he had no business being part of, and the whole time… He had wondered if his Dad was ever going to give a damn what his son was up to.

He’d wondered if he’d ever get into enough trouble for his father to finally notice him. He’d wondered if he’d ever get into so much trouble that his dad just disowned him.

But, Peter wasn’t getting into trouble to get attention. Peter was cursed with the ability to know when something terrible was about to happen, and unlike most grown-ass adults, the kid actually gave a damn about someone other than himself. So, this morning, he’d been stuck in a catch-22.

Option One: Ignore the genuine terror of a man a block away, when he could’ve potentially helped.

Option Two: Go help the man, but get in trouble for ditching school.

“God, Pete, I’m sorry,” Tony sighed. He grabbed one of the clean towels and dipped it in his glass of water, sliding out of his booth and crossing the table.

“Scootch over, Web-head,” he said softly.

Peter obliged, and Tony sat next to him. He examined the cut that was still sluggishly bleeding, and carefully dabbed at the blood.

“I don’t want you patrolling when you should be at school,” Tony said, finally.

Peter opened his mouth, but Tony held up a hand before the kid could start to argue.

“This wasn’t patrolling, though, Pete. This was… you over-hearing an emergency situation.” Tony applied pressure to the cleansed wound. Happy had a first aid kit in the car, so they could bandage it up once he arrived. “In the event of an emergency like the one that happened today, I’d much prefer you to wear the suit. I can’t promise you won’t ever get detention if you ditch school, although the fact that they didn’t notice you were missing makes me doubt their abilities to keep you safe�� I’m just thankful you have a friend like Ned.”

“Oh, shit, Ned!” Peter looked up at Tony, then clapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Another fairy, kid,” Tony laughed. “You can call Ned in a minute. Let me finish my heartfelt speech, please.”

Peter nodded, lips turning up in a slight smile. Tony ruffled Peter’s hair before continuing.

“I can’t honestly promise that I won’t ever get mad, or not lecture you… But, I promise to listen to your side of the story, and no matter what, I’m not gonna ditch you. Even if you have a month of detention. You’ll just have to visit me after you’ve served your time. And, I’m not gonna take the suit. I’m gonna help you. I think we’ve established today that I physically cannot handle losing you. Similar to how you cannot seem to physically handle not helping people out.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, seeming to process what Tony had just said. Then, his eyes grew misty, and he lunged at Tony, wrapping his arms clear around his mentor, so the man couldn’t move. The kid rested the side of his face against Tony’s chest.

“I really love you, Mr. Stark,” the kid whispered, and Tony’s brain short-circuited - fireworks exploding in his mind. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, just looking down at the kid’s head, before Peter sat up again, blushing.

The waitress came with their food, and Peter stabbed his stack of pancakes with a fork, shoveling them in his mouth with an appetite that only teenagers seem to have. In the meantime, Tony texted the kid’s aunt to tell her Peter was with him, and Ned to tell him Peter was ok. By the time Rhodey and Happy pulled into the parking lot, the kid had eaten all of his meal, and half of Tony’s.

“Look, who’s here,” Tony said quietly, as Rhodey and Happy entered the diner.

Peter put his fork down, frowning at Happy’s scowl. “Am I gonna get another lecture, now?”

“Probably,” Tony said lightly, “But that just means they love you.”

#irondad #whump prompt #fanfic #kidnapping #peter parker #tony stark

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