#Oh it just grew to the size of a shed

[mysticdarling]

They accidentally hurt you during intimacy

Characters: venti, xiao, scaramouche (genshin Impact!)

Word count: 1.5k~

Warnings: n.sfw, smut, public sex (venti and xiao), established relationship, mention of tears, pain, rough. [NO MINORS]

(A/n) no pronouns used for reader, afab but mainly only ventis, I did proofread so I apologize if there are any mistakes. Btw I will probably be open to requests in a few weeks if you're interested! hope you pervs enjoy!~ ^^

_

Venti

Venti is a very affectionate lover, he showed his love for you in many ways, writing hymns, taking you to the most beautiful places in Monstadt, or to everyone's dismay an overwhelming amount of PDA. So when your lovely bard asked you on a date to Windrise you should have known what the evening foretold. Venti being the Romantic he is, had a beautiful picnic setup under the tree, the crystal flies only adding to the site. Sure the evening did start with songs and maybe a few drinks but soon  you both had shed a few layers, and hands began to wonder. It was only natural for Venti to want to see more, he loved your body, every inch of it. You were flawless, perfect in his eyes and the god of freedom gave you no room to doubt that. Venti left no area untouched; he was mesmerized by his lover. "Windblume i want to see you on top of me" how could you ever refuse such a request his voice was tender but so very desperate for you.

So there you were displayed on top of him. Venti started with his fingers letting his slender digits explore your Folds loving the shutters and jerks when he touched sensitive areas. Soon Venti's  length hardened against you, his grin making it clear he was very much enjoying himself. When he did rip his fingers away from you, he made sure to look you right in the eyes as he licked off the remaining wetness from them. "Mm you taste so good my love! ehe" Venti had no shame he relished in making you embarrassed. After he finished licking off all of your essence, he placed his hands upon your hips lowering you down onto his cock. The most beautiful sounds and noises escaped you both in unison as he sank himself into you. Venti was addicted to the gummy walls that constricted around him, he bucked his hips up letting out the most emotion filled whines and whimpers.

Something that's not new to you is that Venti could change his form but what he seemed to have left out was, that also included parts of himself. 

Venti wanted to feel more he needed it, he pushed himself off of the ground arching to get himself deeper but even that seemed not enough. Your god of a boyfriend wanted to defile you, to reach every orifice your body accepted. First it was just one added inch, then two, just enough to barely notice the difference but, Venti became eager wanting to fill you up completely. "shh just a little more" He cooed, his voice like silk. With each Plunge  he grew more and more holding your hips still before eventually hitting your tight ring of muscle, prodding against it. With his length he only kept bearing himself, engrossed in you. Soon he found his partner wasn't riding him, but instead recoiling, the deep pressure becoming a bit too much for you. Venti is a gentle being and would never knowingly hurt you, his face filled with remorse as he returned to his normal size, sitting up and burying himself in your chest.

His arms embraced you "oh love I just wanted to make you feel good I should've been more careful..are you okay my windblume?" Venti held you, comforting the lingering effects, completely apologetic. Let's say the wind was especially soft for the rest of the evening.

Xiao

 Dating the conquer of demons can be difficult especially since you travel to other nations and Xiao stays in Liyue.

When you did come visit him at Wangshu Inn you found yourself  pushed up in a corner by Xiao, your chest against the balcony wall. Rustling behind you, Xiao was bunching his pants down enough for his length to spring out of the clothing. " Y/n are you sure you're ok with this. I don't think I'll be able to hold back this time…" xiao waited for the reassurance to continue taking a second before removing the clothing covering your lowering half, guiding himself inside you. He couldn't wait anymore; he had to be deep in your warmth. He  let out a groan of pure bliss, his warm hungry breaths against your neck. "Ghm- i missed you… I missed how you feel around me. I hate when you leave Liyue, going places where I can't reach you." His movements started to become much more sharp slapping against the plush cheek of your ass.

Xiao made sure to tell Verr Goldet at the front desk not to disturb him tonight, even so he found himself having to put  his hand upon your mouth to keep all of Liyue from hearing how loud he made you. His cock was merciless, ramming into you so deep ripping the most vile moans from your throat. Your insides were tight around his length, sucking him back in with each movement. It became clear he was starting to lose control himself. His other hand, that wasn't clasped against your mouth, was placed upon your waist ripping the fabric of your clothes leaving scratches across the stretch of skin, his teeth buried into your shoulder. All of your whines and noises muffled by his hand, your body quivering under his grip yet it being the only thing keeping you still standing. Xiao let out groans and grunts from the sheer feeling, fucking into you as if he was a savage animal. The only thing snapping xiao out of his lustful trance was the feeling of your  tears soaking into his glove.  His hips ceased all movement, removing his hand realizing what he had done. He would have let you go completely if you wouldn't fall. "I'm sorry y/n I didn't mean to scare you, I don't know what came over me…" Xiao stammered. It was clear he just wanted to disappear after what he did, the guilt swallowing him whole. It would be your choice whether you want to stop or continue. He will respect it. Though after that night he'll probably wait for you to initiate from now on.

Scaramoche

Scaramouche may be a puppet but with his past he knows what hurts and what doesn't with a human. He wouldn't hurt you with his body unless he wants to on purpose unlike the others, but instead with his words. Scaramouche took pride in making you fall apart under him. It was pretty obvious he was no gentle lover. He was greedy, he knew you were his but, he was also very much determined to let everyone else know that too. He fucked it right into your brain leaving traces of himself with each harsh movement to make sure you would remember. You were the one person he would not let betray him, he loved you, he would do anything to protect you. Even with his attitude he knew your body well. He knew what you could take and what you couldn't, too bad it's not the same with his mouth. It wasn't anything new that Scaramouche had a sharp tongue. Even though some of his actions could be tender and sweet, his words were far from that. " y/n look at me." he demands, staring down analyzing  every embarrassing way your body reacts to him. You couldn't even deny it he made you feel GOOD. " How dare you keep me waiting. What could be more important?" He sneered clearly wanting a reply. You could barely even think nonetheless speak, all you ended up getting out was  a pathetic excuse for words.

"Is that really all you can say? Pathetic….answer me!"His words grew a bit more harsh. Scara didn't understand why you weren't obeying, do you not think he's worth looking at? Did you favor someone else's looks  more?

"You should be thankful I even chose you to be mine. Hypatia was such a good follower" Once the words escaped his lips he knew he said something wrong. In seconds something shattered inside you, you completely fell out of your daze, Staring up at Scara before shoving the indigo eyed boy off of you. He stared with no emotion upon his face; he almost looked like a doll. He finally got your eyes on him but it wasn't the look he craved for. " i don't actually feel like that…i- i don't want her! i want you i don't know why i would even say that….nothing compares to you, you know that. You just weren't looking at me and I thought if I- '' His voice cracked, his eyebrows twitched, unable to put his words together. A flash of guilt grew across his face, tears swelling in his eyes. You were his one and only. You were his heart.  " Don't expect me to apologize'' Scaramouche scoffed, before falling to his knees hugging your waist the act soon fading. "please don't leave me…" he mattered, staring up at you.

Overall it's your choice if you're willing to forgive him. 

[1-800-cr33py]

STILL GREEN

RZ! Michael Myers, AFAB Reader, Feminine Terminology Used, reader is lowkey highkey delusional

Green.

Green like freshness.

Green like new.

Green like envy.

Green like the jealous pit that lingered within his stomach every time he saw you talking to the neighbors. The same pit that ever only grew in size when it concerned you. You, his darling little mouse, so friendly, so kind. It’s what drew him to you, you know. Kindness wasn’t something that stayed within Smith’s Grove, nor was it catered to. Kindness was snuffed out, diminished at the first sign, but not you. Never you. It was an honest mistake really, you being there. Taking the fall for something someone else did, so valiant weren’t you? Oh, and then you met Michael. Just a boy he was, barely breaching 5’8 at the time, and then you came in, practically skipping. You were a mere year younger than him at the most. The nurses, god fucking damn those nurses, were rough with you, he was and would never be rough with you. Michael watched, a lot. He likes to watch you. You’re quite pleasing to look at in his eyes. You were kind to everyone despite everything the staff and patients did to you. You, his own personal sun, his warmth in this filth-ridden world.

You were his.

And he was your’s.

After your departure from Smith’s Grove, a sad day indeed. You didn’t leave Haddenfield. In fact, you moved back into your old house, fell back into a steady routine. It stayed like that for a good few years, you shedded that girlish immaturity of your’s. But you remained kind, warm. Your days at Smith’s Grove weren’t forgotten, your mind lingered on the boy you’d tried to befriend those handful of years ago sometimes you’d try and visit, though once again in vain. Soon, you moved on, or tried to. You lead a simple life, one that suited you. Work and home. That’s mostly what your days consisted of. Though the news blaring of a highly dangerous patient’s escape from the Sanatarium. Though the name was what made you drop the glass you’d been washing.

Michael fucking Myers.

Any normal person would be scared, terrified even. But you? Not a thing, well not a thing any one word could describe. He was alive after all of this? Something, a small string in your heart pulled for him. You knew how the staff treated the patients within those walls, how they treated Michael. It made you sick, and the memory of Dr.Loomis’s ‘interviews’ left you scarred. Michael was young then, still a boy.

The days were long, dull. Blending together with one another. People’s fear left them paranoid, and paranoia leads to other erratic behavior. Just the other hour an older couple practically had a melt down when they say some kid’s preparing for Halloween. It was sad, but not any of your business. Still, you continued your routine. Though your garden needed tending to. It was something you’d picked up from a grandparent, now it was just something to keep you busy, something to care for. The crisp October air was a pleasantry you’d taken comfort in, letting you wear your comfort jumpers to your hearts content. You knelt, the cold dirt hardened as you plucked at the weeds, tugging a few carrots, and clipping sweet peppers for dinner, though a chill ran down your spine. Not of fear, no, but of a feeling of being stalked. Like prey sensing their impending doom at the awaiting jaws of a predator. You straightened your back, head turning to study the surrounding neighbor’s yards and short stretch of wood.

The hair on the back of your neck bristled.

Him.

Michael was big, bigger than you thought a man could get. An orange mask covered his features, but even then you remembered those eyes. Oh his eyes.. Dr.Loomis was wrong, at least to you. Because Michael looked at you you’d hung the stars and moon themselves, like you were the holy being prophesied to save him. But in a blink, he was gone. You’d think yourself crazy had it not been for his eyes. The same eyes you’d felt drawn to in your youth.

That night you found little sleep. Creaking of your house made his presence know. He wanted you to know. Michael knew how to be quiet, how to make himself invisible, but he wanted you to know he was looming just a few feet away.

“ Michael. “ you announced, voice hoarse. The creaking stopped.

~Time Skip~

You’d gotten used to Michael’s presence, sure, the fact he’d eat any and everything sweet within your house and the neighbor’s was a bit..odd, but everyone has their quirks right? Some days, he’d stand behind you whilst you cooked, almost close enough to touch you. It took a long while to build that up, you weren’t complaining. But Michael was greedy. He wanted everything from you and more, it was the least he was owed after you left Smith’s right? It was the least you could do for him after he keeps your house protected! He encroached slowly, it started off with simple touches on your ankle, then you’d awake with his hand on the inside of your knee and so forth. And here you were now, underneath the mountain you called your house husband.

Michael’s cock throbbed in your heat, this was what? Your fifth orgasm? Sixth? Neither one of you cared enough to keep count. You were so faced out, crossed eyed and drooling at this point, and Michael was panting, guttural moans bordering whine erupting from his throat. He’d mumble what sounded like broken sounds of your name and ‘mine’, you couldn’t quite make it out even if you weren’t so cock-drunk. Michael’s hand crept from beside your head and made its way to your throat, he didn’t choke you, simply felt how small you were compared to him. How delicate you were beneath him. All his. The mere thought has his cock aching, and the look you gave him was delectable. Your perfect lips parted, he stilled. Awaiting your words with a bated breath. “ Please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-“ you begged. The sweet whines you gave Michael were his salvation. You were his heaven begging him for entry. You were his God. His Heaven, his Hell. All gift wrapped into one, perfectly flawed being and all his for the taking. Michael groaned, a guttural sound, his head falling beside your’s, his dark blond locks falling over his face. The night was still young, and your pleas only egged him on further.

Michael’s thrusts quickened, his tip kissing your womb. He could feel you getting close, after all your were practically milking his cock as it was, but now? Your weeping cunt was like a vice. You wrapped you legs around his broad waist, whining and keening for him to bring you past the edge again, despite being so sensitive already. Needy baby, weren’t you? Michael smiled, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as you came. Your vision turned white as you tightened your legs around Michael, spent body trembling as you began to go limp. Michael’s head rose from your shoulder, blood staining his teeth as he stared you down, his eyes blown with lust. His kiss swollen lips quivering lips muttering silent words before uttering a statement that had your core aching once more.

“ Not done. “

Author’s Comments: OKAY SOOOO I’m a day behind and it’ll most likely stay that way because my schedule this month is packed as hell already. Mod 800 is currently on break for reasons I will not disclose nor discuss and I will most likely be handling the rest of KinkTober. This is kinda rushed and once again English is neither Mods first languages so please be considerate. Thank you ghoulies!

Signing off,

Mod 888

[backtotheshitshow]

Wood & Words (part 3)

Woodworker! James Potter X Princess!reader

Warning: ANGST!! Like ugh I wrote it and I’m tearing up. Kinda proof read. Also this is like a long one so…enjoy.

Part1 part2

A small knock caught James’ attention as he was cutting down the legs for a stool.

He immediately stoped what he was doing and truned to the door.

“You’re late.” He said with a smile.

“I didn’t realise i had a preset time to be here.” Y/n laughed.

“No but you’re usually here before nine..” James explained.

“I’m sorry I was with my mother.” Y/n said stepping into the wood shed.

“It’s alright I’m only teasing.” James laughed, he took a quick glance at her while he measured the stool leg. She was wearing a different type of dress today, not the same neckline she tended to favour.

He couldn’t help but take notice of how soft her collarbone and neck looked, and wonder how it might look if he were to simply grab her and leave a few small love marks.

“You seem in a good mood this morning. May I ask why?” Y/n sat herself against a barrel set near James’ work bench.

“Am I not allowed to be happy.?” He turned to her, trying to push away his inappropriate thoughts.

“Oh no. I much prefer the grumpy tradesman persona you have going on. Quite mysterious I would say.” She grinned, as she was taking in how he looked in the morning light she noticed a bandage on his hand. A medium sized patch of red had soaked through.

James began to speak. “I know you think your joking but I know that you-“

“You’re hurt.” She said immediately walking over to him and taking his hand gently, to examine it.

“Oh ah just a mishap with a saw. I’ll be fine.” He said looking down at her with a small smile, she looked adorable with her eyebrows scrunched together with concern. That fact that she was concerned about him made it all the more pleasant.

She didn’t trust that he was being completely honest about the severity of his injury.

“May I see.” She said looking up at him. He wanted to protest and tell her that it was simply and occupational hazard but the look in her eyes was begging him to let her take care of it and who was he to deny the princess of what she wanted.

He nodded allowing her to unravel the bandage.

James’s expression softened as his breath caught in his throat. His face flushed, as he stood still, letting her inspect it.

His expression was almost apologetic, as if her concern was misplaced.

“Really it’s nothing.” He muttered, in the past he would have simply just refused her help all together. But now he was in too deep, this woman had a hold on him, and his mind was telling him to let her have whatever she asked for.

She let out a quiet gasp when she laid eyes on the wound.

“Surely this must be painful, why haven’t you taken care of this properly?” She seemed upset at him for having such little concern for his on wellbeing.

James shifted slightly, embarrassed at her visible concern.

"It's fine, really," he lied as his cheeks grew hotter. James had never been one to complain, and he couldn't stand how upset she was... she was so cute.

He was so used to taking care of himself, so he rarely asked for help. Now he felt his resolve crumbling under this woman's concerned gaze, her gentle words and her soft hands.

“Sit down.” She said nudging him towards the barrel she previously sat on.

James hesitated, his face telling her that he knew he should, but his stubborn nature getting in the way. Eventually he acquiesced to her soft demand, plopping down on the barrel and letting out a sigh.

Y/n grabbed a rag that looked somewhat clean, and walked to the sink in the small part of the wood shed that look like a very old kitchen, running the rag under some warm water.

She can back over. “It’s very careless of you to leave such a deep cut without cleaning it. Do you have no regard for your health?”

James didn’t answer he looked away embarrassed about how angry she seemed at him for ignoring his own needs.

As she took care to clean the wound, James just sat there, staring at her, mesmerized by her every movement. She was so soft and delicate, handling him without force.

She was just about finished wrapping the wound when she noticed his staring and stopped. She couldn’t move under his intense gaze.

“Just…be more considerate of yourself please.” She said in a soft tone as she slowly lost herself in his eyes.

Y/n didn’t know what came over her, she as never this bold, but in all fairness she never did think to straight when he was looking at her.

She kissed him.

James's heart skipped a few beats as the Princess's lips pressed against his.

He'd been thinking about how pretty she was, being lost in her eyes for a split second before the sweet caress of her lips caught him by surprise.

He'd never been one to receive affection, at least not for years now, and certainly not this quickly and unexpectedly. His mind was a dizzying combination of shock, confusion and elation.

“I….i shall see you tomorrow.” She whispered and before James knew it she was gone.

……..

The following day James waited patiently for the princess’s arrival trying to keep himself busy.

It began to get late. James had spent the day organising the shed and sweeping sawdust. He was beginning to get tired.

After the kiss they shared the precious day it was hard for him to get a good nights sleep.

By the time she arrived the sun had already settled behind the horizon, leaving the shed only lit by lanterns here and there.

“Why have you come so late?” James asked. He noted that she was not in her usual bubbly mood the expression on her face looked almost ashamed.

She ignored his question

“I’ve come to apologise James. My actions yesterday were inappropriate.” She said stopping at the door.

James couldn't contain his shock. Was her kiss really a mistake?

"W-what did you say??" he replied. To him it had been a beautiful and romantic gesture, perhaps even a sign that she felt something for him.

But maybe his judgment had been clouded and now she was telling him she'd made a mistake. James felt his heart drop.

“Yesterday when..I kissed you. I’ve given it some thought over night and It was entirely inappropriate and improper. I hope you forgive me.” She looked away ashamed of herself.

James was speechless. He had been expecting an entirely different response. He had thought she felt some sort of attraction towards him and the way her eyes had blazed in the sunlight when they’d kissed had been beautiful and he’d been hoping to do it again.

But it seemed the whole thing was a mistake– a spur of the moment thing she’d probably thought about too late.

“W-wait, you’re sorry we kissed?”

“I…yes I. It was wrong of me to do so.”

James sat stunned for several moments as he processed what she’d said. Was she truly ashamed of kissing him? His eyes narrowed as his stomach dropped in disappointment.

Perhaps she had thought about the kiss afterward and then realized he wasn’t someone she was that attracted to. Was he not someone she found desirable? He bit his lip and felt a pang of sadness he hid behind a wall of anger.

“You wish we hadn’t shared that kiss?”

“That’s- not what I’m saying.”

James narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. Why was she backtracking if that wasn’t what she’d meant? What had she meant then?

James’s thoughts raced as he tried to read between the lines, trying to guess what it was that she was trying to get at.

“But did you… Did you enjoy it? Did you not like the kiss?!”

“I did, yes of course I did…but it was clearly inappropriate….im sorry I put you in such an uncomfortable situation. Please do not be kind for my sake.” She noticed James seemed to be getting quite upset.

James was taken aback and couldn't help but grimace at her last statement. She didn't want him to be 'kind' to her?

Did she honestly think he was just being kind? He was beginning to grow irritated at her insistence on claiming the kiss was inappropriate.

"What's the matter? Am I not someone worthy of that kind of affection?" He said.

“Oh course you are! I’m simply saying I shouldn’t have put in a situation like that.” She explained.

James's eyebrows furrowed and he felt himself grow angry and frustrated. He couldn't understand why she was so insistent on claiming she was the one at fault. James raised his voice in exasperation.

"I'm not a child! I can make my own decisions about what situations I feel I am or am not comfortable in and you shouldn't be the one deciding such things for me!"

Y/n was shocked at his outburst.

“I’m sorry. I just…..,excuse me” she turned around quickly as she blinked back a tear or two..

The way she was abruptly leaving now was angering James even more. What was she thinking? He felt his emotions boiling over and could not let her leave like this.

"No, you're not getting away that easily." *James grabbed her by the wrist firmly.

"You're not going to just leave and ignore this. You're going to hear me out."

James took a deep breath and tried to rein himself in. He was still seething with anger but knew that yelling more was only going to make the situation worse. He loosened his grip on her wrist.

"Look, I just don't understand why you're claiming it was inappropriate. We're two adults. We're capable of deciding what is appropriate and inappropriate ourselves.

You say you enjoyed it, so I don't see why you're so adamant on telling me it was somehow a mistake or inappropriate." He looked at her with pained eyes.

“Do you not think I am aware that you only tolerate my company due myself being the princess! I may seem bit ditsy but I’m not stupid!”

James's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. The Princess didn't believe that he actually liked her?

He thought that the Princess was adorable, witty and intelligent and he'd never felt quite this way about anyone before.

To hear she thought he didn't enjoy spending time with her was painful.

"That's not true! I love spending time with you! I enjoy you like I've never enjoyed anyone else before! How in gods name could you think that?!"

Tear began to well in the princess eyes. She was angry and confused and James was yelling at her. She didn’t like him yelling at her.

“I-I-Idon’t know I just thought ….I’m sorry.” A small crack in her voice came at the end of her sentence.

James's eyes widened as he saw the hint of moisture in her eyes. He felt so bad for having snapped at her like that and suddenly his anger melted away to concern. He felt a sudden overwhelming urge to comfort and protect this beautiful girl. The thought of seeing tears in her eyes was unbearable. He moved closer to her and lifted his hand to brush away the wetness in her eyes.

At his touch, James felt his anger and frustration melt away. How could he stay mad at such a delicate and vulnerable girl? Her beauty was truly astonishing but now James realised she was much more than that.

She was also emotional and he could see exactly what she was feeling on her face. She was sensitive and kind despite her title and her beauty and that was more than enough reason for him to want to protect her. He wished she'd realize her worth.

“I-I should be going.” She said

James felt a sudden rush of emotion he didn't know how to handle. But he did not want to let her leave like this. He didn't want her to think he was just being kind to her. The Princess was so wrong about her own self worth and he just could not let her leave thinking that.

“No. You're not going anywhere.” James said firmly and with conviction, wrapping his are around her waist.

to be continued

———-

If you thought this had drama. Just you wait…,*evil laugh*

Taglist:

@valenftcrush

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 2

Part 2: One Bullet

Series Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count:
 4.5k Warnings: description of injury, blood, violence. A/N: part twooooo! we learn a bit more about the reader here, maybe a couple more hints about the knife??? oh, and daryl finally asks some pressing questions. enjoy :) 

Ropes of ivy invaded cracks in the road, expanding past what must have once been pristinely manicured lawns. The street was quiet. Sober of the previous night’s constant activity. Even the hungry bellies of the wandering dead had been settled by apathy, and, of course, a complete lack of consciousness.  

It was odd to watch them this way.

Without a warm body to rip apart, they really just seemed lost. Unsure where to turn until a noise or smell drew their attention. If it wasn’t for their mangled limbs or grey skin, you might’ve forgotten how vicious they could be. Yet, the thought of becoming hollow like them, driven by hunger alone, was almost more terrifying. 

You looked away. 

Behind you, the man who’d saved you from those same vicious jaws was packing the few supplies he’d found in the house. A fridge full of expired cheeses and cabinets stacked with bottles of wine that must’ve cost a pretty penny, but not even a can of beans; beyond material wealth, even a house as appealing as this one was relatively empty. The new backpack he found, label still attached, was barely half full. Some batteries, newspaper, a couple of reusable water bottles, and one travel-sized bottle of ibuprofen. He’d already given you two to dry-swallow twenty minutes ago. 

They were starting to kick in. You stood by the couch with only a dull throbbing to remind you of the fragility of your situation. Wounded by the one-eyed man you’d naively followed into battle and with no hope of reuniting with your friends— hell, even if their bodies hadn’t been riddled with bullets and teeth marks, you weren’t sure you’d want to see them again. Not after their willingness to shed blood, driven by fear, greed, and selfishness.

At least you could say it had only been fear on your part. 

With a sigh, you leaned your weight on the arm of the couch, finger tracing down the curtain you held back, hoping to find an exit beyond the road. The white fabric was soft. Thick. An idea popped into your head. 

“Do you have a lighter?” 

The first words spoken since your defiance made him pause. Eyes narrowed in something other than contempt, for once, as he seemed to weigh his options. 

He stood up and walked to the couch, digging in his front pocket. A small, silver zippo sat in his open palm, like an offering. You reached forward to grab it, but he was quick to snatch it back, dirty fingers wrapped tight, as if you were about to fight him for it. 

You couldn’t hold back the flash of a scowl. This dynamic was more than clear. He didn’t like you, not one fucking bit. You couldn’t blame him, but it didn’t mean you had to like him, either. Every time those harsh blue eyes dragged across your skin, the grime that painted you felt ten times heavier, as if guilt was seeping through your pores to settle with all that blood and filth. 

But of course, there was that pesky part of you, not as deep down as you’d prefer, that wanted to prove to him that you weren’t all bad. People-pleasing, even at the end of the world. 

You took a breath and rationalized, “We can’t stay here, but none of those cars work and I can’t run. So we need a distraction.” 

“Ya wanna set a fire.” 

You shrugged. “Unless you have a better plan.” 

His eyes flicked behind you. 

“Curtains won’t work. Need somethin’ ya can throw, something that ain’t gonna get weighed down.” 

The scowl slipped from your face, briefly replaced with a confused furrow of your brow. You hadn’t even mentioned the curtains. He was certainly observant. 

“What about that newspaper you grabbed?” You limped toward the bag.

With a quick stride, he snatched the bag from your hands. Irritated, you were about to protest, maybe even snap at the man who’d been treating you like some child he was forced to babysit rather than the capable and worthy partner you internally swore to be. But he cut you off before you had a chance to do anything other than open your mouth and glare. 

“Ya can’t run.” 

Intent to set the distraction himself, he turned on his heel and walked down the hall. 

—

The cars were staggered throughout the road, one parked by the sidewalk, another one in the middle of the lane, diagonal. A few stragglers had wandered on their right side, but the majority roamed the left. If there was a way to distract those outliers, to send them to the right side with the others, there was an opportunity to use the vehicles as cover while crossing the street. 

Another house sat across the street, but from the look of it, the backyard opened into the woods. 

That was the plan. Sneak out the side door, set the distraction, then use the cars for cover to get into the forest. There’d be more places for you to hide in the thicket of trees compared to the vast openness of suburban streets. And if you could hide, you could spend more time off that wounded leg. 

It also meant more food. Squirrels, rabbits, and anything else the crossbow-wielding man could find. 

That was if he’d bring it back for you. 

The side door creaked open. He had one hand on the handle, the other holding that crossbow to eye level. Twisting from left to right to scan the alley, steady and cautious seemed to be his typical approach. 

That bag, where he’d finally stashed your knife, was strapped across his back now. You glanced down at your empty hands and bit back a sigh— this was not how you wanted to escape a small herd. With your bare hands and a stab wound in your thigh that would just not stop throbbing, ibuprofen and all. 

There was a stray biter from the back, hanging around the corner of the alley. It turned toward you, revealing the other side of its rotting face. Skin hung off decaying muscle and black blood dried down its chin and neck. Left eye missing. Its mouth opened, ready to release a strangled moan and alert the others, but a bolt stabbed through that empty eye socket, instead. Limp, it dropped to the ground. He held up a shaky hand, continuing to eye the biter. Waiting to see if the noise had alerted the rest of them and you’d have to retreat into that house for another night, after all. 

A tense second later, his hand lowered. Gritting his teeth, he dragged the crossbow cord back until it clicked in place. Reloaded another arrow and turned back in the direction of the front of the house. 

Following his lead, you started to move through the side alley. Growls and moans on either side, just out of sight, as cruel reminders of what was waiting for you if you tripped, made a noise, or any mistake. He moved slow, placing his weight on the gravel as even as possible. Thanks to a firm motivation to not die, you managed not to drag your foot with every limp forward, and to fight through the pangs of pain that shot up your leg every time you inevitably stepped on it. 

At the corner, he crouched down and turned back to give you another signal to be silent. 

As if you needed it— you were doing well keeping quiet, all things considered. 

With a single, careful scan of the road, he pulled a wad of newspaper from the bag. He held the lighter, flickering with flame, underneath the edge of the paper. It caught quickly and he waited a second for the fire to catch higher before whipping it around the corner of the building. From the ruffled sounds of leaves and popping flames, the burning pages landed in a bush, which meant that a bigger fire was about to burst. 

At least it’d be a good distraction. 

When the dead started to shuffle toward the smoke and flame, the two of you moved from behind the house. Faster than you’d travelled the alley now that you had grass to soften the sound of your steps. The first car was a short sprint away. Once you reached it, aching leg and all, you were hidden from the biters walking into that burning bush. 

Red paint hot from the sun, you hovered beside the vehicle, waiting for his signal to move to the next. He curved the corner, keeping his crossbow high and attention focused on the dead ahead as you used the truck of the car as cover— just in case. 

After determining the coast was clear, he waved his hand forward. Just like the first, you followed him behind the second car. It wasn’t much farther until you could use the cover of the house ahead to get away from the dead, who were much too busy swarming themselves around that smoking bush to notice, anyway. 

All things considered, it had been a good plan. A smooth distraction. 

Of course, it was in that home stretch when it finally slipped up. The archer’s eyes caught on something; attention narrowed in and his crossbow lowered, slow and hesitant. As if he’d fallen into a trance of sorts, eyes glossed over as he stared past the vehicle’s rear window. You briefly wondered if exhaustion was finally catching up, and if you were about to be the cushion for his collapse.  

“Hey,” you whispered, “what’s wrong?” 

Ignoring you, he trailed around the car without much care for the biters ahead and yanked the passenger door open. Every movement was harsh. Demanding. One hand held the crossbow, while the other pulled something out and clutched it. Inspected it. Fingers dancing along the orange and red fabric like it’d spell out something for him. 

“This is—“ he growled, abrupt, while clenching his fist around the fabric. Neck corded with tension, it seemed the words caught in his throat. 

“What?” 

Towering over your crouched frame, he stood to his full height, head spinning in circles as he scanned the street. 

“Get down!” you hissed, grabbing his forearm.

“Get your hands off’a me!” 

Your eyes went wide, snapping between his snarling lip and the swarm of biters well within earshot. 

One turned, sniffing the air. 

You held your hands up and tried to reason in a hushed whisper, “They can still hear you.” 

There seemed to be a split second of realization, the weight of his heavy stare lifting an inch at your meaning. His head bowed before he crouched again. The anger lacing the blue of his eyes seemed to slip away once they landed on the item in his hand, fingers still gripping tight. It seemed like just some sweater, or maybe a poncho, but the way his tone had shifted so suddenly, jaw still tense from the ordeal, you knew it meant something to him. 

“Shit. Do you recognize that?” 

That was the most you’d let yourself ask. Satisfy your immediate curiosity, don’t push your luck. He always seemed incredibly restrained and you didn’t want to steer a man you barely knew over the edge. Especially not now, with biters just around the corner, already alert and curious from his outburst. 

His mouth drew in a thin line, but the vein in his forehead answered you, enough. Something squeezed inside your chest, ringing drops of sympathy from your heart. You knew what it was like, more than he might’ve realized, to find something that belonged to someone you lost. Left abandoned with no trace of them. You blinked as your expression softened, looking out to the street. 

Gentle, you asked, “Do you recognize any of them?” 

He shook his head. 

Your mouth parted, hoping to ease some of that tension that traced his features; the subtle hints of self-discipline in his expression made your heart ache worse than it should have. 

Instead, a growl ripped through the air, as rough as the lingering friction between you two. More importantly, it was close. Both your heads snapped over the car to see the dead from the backyard swarming the alley you’d just passed through. They were rushing forward, tripping over their own frail, broken ankles in their dash. Hungry monsters coming straight for you. 

The smoke must’ve risen high enough to draw their attention, and when they’d turned into the street, it was the perfect view of you and the man still stuck at the side of that car. Sentiment holding you back. 

“Damn it,” he cursed. 

The poncho was stuffed in between his broad rib cage and the strap of his bag, and without another thought, you both started running— or, for you, it was the closest thing that could pass for running. Frantic limping, practically tripping over yourself. Hell, you probably didn’t look too different from the dead on your trail. But, if you let up, you were sure they’d rip into you, nonetheless. Blame that on your distinctive lack of rotting flesh. 

Dashing across the front yard of the second house and then down the alley was the easy part. The road and lawn were even, so your limp didn’t get caught in roots or loose ground. The forest, on the other hand, wasn’t an ideal landscape. Though it was certainly better concealed than the open road, you had to pay special attention to divots and any other potential tripping hazard below. You weren’t clear of danger yet; biters didn’t tire, and they certainly weren’t held back by any type of wound, like you. You’d seen dead with their damn guts spilling out trap survivors before. Not much other than a bullet in the head stopped them. 

Adrenaline could only do so much for you. Pain was heavy in your leg, and a part of you— a scared, pessimistic part of you— anticipated another collision with the damp earth. 

It felt like the man ahead was moving ten times your speed, the dead at least five, and you tried not to think about the possibility of this being your end. Face flat in the earth, ripped apart by dull teeth and overgrown fingernails. Instead, you tried to focus on the simple facts that you hadn’t fallen yet, and maybe more surprisingly, that the man ahead of you had looked back to check on you not once, but twice. 

Another flash of that orange and red fabric passed you by, only this time, it was stark against green grass. Time seemed to slow, glancing between the man, still moving with vigour ten or so feet ahead of you, and the object of his sentiment, falling to the ground. 

If there was one thing you were realizing since meeting him, it was how fucking reckless you could be. 

Problem was, it didn’t even feel like a choice. There was still fear in the back of your mind— there always was, it seemed— picking away at your last inch of perseverance, but the second you saw that poncho drop, you swooped down to pick it up, anyway. Even if that meant slowing pace and almost tripping over yourself. But if it’d been his knife, if it’d been you losing the last bit of him you had left, you’d want whoever you were siding with to fight for it, too. 

Intentions could be good, but reality always caught up. Pessimism won and the damp earth finally collided with your cheek after a stick in the mud caught your toe. It was less painful than the fall yesterday, but the bruises from that ordeal were still fresh and began to welt again, almost immediately. 

“Come on, girl!” 

With a low groan, you bit the inside of your cheek, hard, and then pushed back up. Not quick enough, it seemed, because a hand— a warm one— wrapped around your bicep and yanked you up to his side. An arrow cut through the muggy, humid air above your head just as you caught your balance with your good leg, tumbling free of the man’s grip before continuing forward. 

That damn poncho, still tight in your grip. 

—

The next time you collapsed, it was intentional. 

Dirt smeared across your jeans and hands, you palmed the ground you laid on. 

Panting. 

There wasn’t enough air, there wasn’t enough water, there wasn’t enough of anything— save the beat of your pounding heart. No matter how many deep inhales you tried to take, you ended up sucking in another, too quick, in a desperate attempt to catch the breath you lost miles back. 

It’d been mutually decided that a fallen tree trunk was your best cover in case the dead did catch up from the approximate three-mile stretch between the herd and yourselves. A stretch that was hard to believe, but it’d been a while since you could properly hear their hungry growls. And considering that every part of your body was spent of energy, with nothing left to feed your muscles as the adrenaline wore off, you were content to extend your belief if it meant resting for a moment. 

Even the pain in your leg had dulled, too weak to do anything but throb. 

It was with your head resting on that large log that you finally let go of that poncho. With the little energy you had left, you tilted your head to him, eyes dragging over the drops of sweat rolling down his neck, pooling across the expanse of his similarly heaving chest. The loosened button of his shirt revealed a peak of damp, untanned skin, and his eyes were shut, lips parted to pull in deeper breaths. 

You swallowed, then said, amidst heavy pants, “This belongs to you.” 

His eyes fluttered open, lids still low, but he managed to turn his head to you too. Exhaustion tore his surly demeanour down; if he’d been trying to hold the usually mean stare he reserved for you, he couldn’t manage it. 

A heavy hand landed on the poncho dropped between you. He gripped it as tight as he had your arm when you’d fallen, fingers dipped into colourful fabric. 

In all honesty, he’d done most of the work to get here; navigating the forest, killing the biters that came too close, and grabbing you every time you fell behind. If it hadn’t been for his persistence, you weren’t sure if you’d be here anymore. 

The poncho was the least you could offer. 

You couldn’t tell how much time had passed lying in a mix of dirt and moss. 

Eventually, both your breaths had evened out, and a while ago the man had even gotten up and began to make a fire from the smell of it. You’d been staring at the sky, instead. Between the trees, there were flashes of dark wings across the expanse of blue. Shadows of leaves fluttering in the wind, dabbling bits of sunlight across your damp chest. Eyes half closed, you listened to the soft rustle of the wind and the chirp of the birds. You were in your own world of exhaustion, it seemed. 

Sometime between the smell of smoke and the glow of embers, your attention dropped from the open unknown above you, to the strong back of the man, similarly stained with uncertainty, ahead. 

There was something captivating about him, and in particular, about his stubbornly loyal streak that seemed to get you on the receiving end of his help twice now. He could’ve left you for dead back there. A lot of people would have, or at the least, they would tell him he should have. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble. Distracted the dead long enough that he could’ve stopped running miles ago, given him one less mouth to feed, one less wound to take care of. It might’ve even given him some type of relief to execute retribution on someone who’d wronged him and his people. Leaving you for dead could’ve solved, at minimum, half of his problems. 

But he didn’t. 

You stuck your neck out for him once, and he saved you after. That made you even. This made you something else. Allies or indebted, you weren’t sure. What you were sure of was his resilience, that much had been obvious since the moment you first met him. Hell-bent on surviving. You figured the stubborn will had something to do with that. 

It was odd to know all that, and not his name.

“Hey,” you said, voice hoarse, but still stronger than any muscle in your body. “What’s your name?” 

He stiffened, but glanced over his shoulder to meet your eye. 

“Daryl.” 

You nodded, briefly, before you offered your name with a shaky breath. You rolled your shoulders, adjusting your position across the fallen log. “I figured I should know who I’m thanking.” 

His— Daryl’s— glare had always been intense. Abrasive, like it was dissecting you with a dull blade. You tried to soften it with a genuine thank you, slipping off your tongue with a sweet ring of gratitude. 

Instead, it was like those two words snapped something within him, patience stretched to its thinnest.

“Ya used a bullet.” 

His tone wasn’t a question, but it still caught you off guard.

“I— What?” 

He dropped the bundle of sticks in his hand. Full attention on you, instead of the small fire. “Your clip was almost full.” 

You caught on then— when he’d taken the gun from you, back at the cabin, he’d been using it to kill the swarming biters. You’d heard a couple of shots before you finally passed out, but considering how far he’d made it while carrying you, it made sense that he’d fired the rest. 

Save that one bullet. The only one you’d used before you found that cabin. Before he found you. 

“Just one,” you muttered.

“For what?” 

Your voice slipped away then, resolve lost at the mention. Cracks of guilt began to run through your heart, deepening with every weak beat. “I didn’t—“ you shook your head, “I never wanted to—“ 

“I didn’t ask ya tha’,” he growled, standing up. “Who’d ya use it on?” 

You swallowed. With every step closer, his want was as clear as his intimidation. No pleading, no regrets. 

Just the truth. 

“I killed someone.” 

Concern twisted his features, just enough for you to realize that he was probably considering all of his people being on the receiving end of that bullet. Imagining the hateful, cruel look in your eye when they finally dropped dead. But if he could see past the anger swarming his vision, he might’ve noticed the curl of your lip, the rapid frequency of your blinks; disgust painted along your features, reserved for your own actions. 

“Mitch.” 

Daryl knew everyone at that prison. Everyone. Mitch wasn’t one of his people. 

“The guy in the tank,” you clarified. 

“Ya shot one’a your own?”  

“He— he tried to kill a kid. We made it up to the planters, I was— I was trying to find my friend so we could—“

His eyes narrowed, and you backtracked. Only the facts. 

“Some kid was fighting them off. He was reloading and couldn’t see Mitch coming, so I—“ you stopped to catch your breath. Slow and deep, just like he taught you years ago— fuck, you wished you had that knife, those initials to trace under your thumb. 

“I stopped him.” 

Daryl’s eyes were still tight on you. Unforgiving in the way they dug through your weak appearance, the way you tried to balance your fragile thoughts with a heavy inhale. The sight twisted his gut. 

Instead, he narrowed his attention on trying to find any hint of dishonesty, insincerity, hell— anything he didn’t even like the idea of— lingering behind your words. 

“Why?” he spat, as if he already knew he wouldn’t like the answer. 

You shook your head and exhaled, “He was a kid.” 

He looked down on you like something stuck on his shoe. Some small, inadequate thing; it made you feel weaker than any wound or sprint could.

Daryl snarled, “There were a lot of kids there. Sick ones. A baby.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“Nah. Ya didn’t know shit ‘bout us, nothin’ more than those lies tha’ asshole told ya.” 

From shame, your mouth was sewn shut. An apology hanging off your tongue, unable to break free, even if you knew it needed to. 

Would it do anything, anyway? Nothing you could say would bring those fences back up, bring his family back together. Nothing would fix the mess of Brian’s wrath. 

A brief moment of wonder passed you by— Brian had told you lies, so many lies, but the story of his daughter, of his town, was laced with such genuine pain and loss. You weren’t sure what had driven him to such violence and anger, or what made him rip away the only good thing left in this world— people. Maybe you’d never know. 

Maybe it didn’t matter, anyway. It was over. They were dead, or gone. Nowadays, that felt like the same thing. 

Without another word, he crouched by the fire again. 

The way he handled the fire was gentle and calculated, even if he’d been so relentless and hostile with you, just seconds before. Eventually, the throb of your leg called your attention again. The sight of the red-stained flannel wrapped tight around your wound, and what it meant— Daryl’s aid, even with something as heavy as the prison’s attack weighing down your integrity— made something grip your heart just as tight. 

“Then why’d you help me?” 

His shoulders stiffened. For once, he refused you that look. The one that beckoned every harsh, guilt-ridden thought to consciousness. Made you hyper-fixate on your wrongs because there had to be a reason why he looked at you like that. 

You weren’t sure how you felt about its lack, now. It might’ve been piercing, but it had a way of opening him up, too. People had always told you anger made you stupid. Even for a man as guarded as him, it broke him down and made those narrow eyes a bit easier to understand. Aggression made him vulnerable, or at least, a bit softer around the edges. 

If there was any time you wanted to read him, it was now. Could you trust him to keep helping you, as he had with the biters? Or would you wake up the next morning, alone and defenceless? 

The peak of sun shining between bright green leaves was lower than before. Golden light cascading on soft grass and the drops of sweat trailing down your chest. Sunset was close. 

He never did answer you. 

————————————————————

-> part three

A/N: ok daryl is a little mean but... can u blame him? u kinda fucked up, reader </3 but at least u saved him his poncho hehe. 

thank u for the support on this series so far :D it means so much.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 5

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting

Typically, Jimmy had learned over the past years, carrots could be harvested a few weeks before the sweet potatoes. This year, however, would not give him a break. Late planting, no sun, and then too much sun, gophers, and finally just plain bad luck with growth. He glared down at the pathetic yellow vegetable, hardly two inches in length compared to its towering leaves.

It would be his luck, after he’d bragged about his carrot cake to his house guest, for this to happen. Of course, he could always buy carrots from Martyn, but that wasn’t the point. Jimmy sighed, rolling back onto his behind to stare up at the sky. Did he leave them be and hope they grew a bit more into a usable size? Harvest them anyways? They couldn’t all be so small. There was no harm in leaving roots in the ground, though, if not for the gophers.

The back door swung open, letting out a puff of smoke. Said puff of smoke coughed and shook, until a face blinked out at Jimmy. “Oh, there you are!” Tango chirped.

“What did you do? I hope you didn’t get any of that in my workshop.” Jimmy clambered back up onto his feet, picking up the watering can on his way. Tango shook most of his soot off like a dog before Jimmy was able to slap the dipped kerchief onto his cheek. The blazeborn yelped, hair flickering from the shock and turning the liquid into steam. Jimmy didn’t stop until at least his face was cleared. “Look at you, it’s like you never left the mines.” He huffed.

“A minor incident may have occurred while doing some repairs.” His muffled voice explained while he tried to bat Jimmy away. “But it’s fine, I swear!” He managed to wrestle the cloth away to finish his own cleaning.

Jimmy laughed, “If you plan on working with heavy machinery you should go to a forge.”

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to reshape a part in something hot. See, Scott at the parlour gave me this ice-cream maker that wouldn’t crank, and while I was repairing it I noticed this one piece-”

“Where on earth- Tango did you use my stove for your metal work?”

Tango hunched over with a guilty grin. Jimmy groaned, rushing inside to make sure there was no major damage. His stove was open, a pair of iron tongs left half inside, with a rapidly cooling hunk of metal sitting on a brick on his stovetop. Most of the soot seemed to have wound up on Tango, both to Jimmy’s relief and annoyance. He spun around, hands on hips, and glared. “Are you daft?”

“Look, see, it’s not that bad-”

“You could have burnt the house down!”

“I took the necessary precautions! I just needed to reshape a small piece.”

“Then why didn’t you simply- you know?” He flicked his wrist and Tango’s sparking hair.

Tango’s face twisted, grabbing the hem of his shirt and fanning it. “Because the whole- you know?”

It was certainly rude, but Jimmy supposed the man knew more about his own flames than an avian. With a conceding wave, Jimmy groaned and began walking towards the cleaning closet. “See here, just…” He grumbled to himself as he tried to pull the mop out, only to find it caught on something out of sight. Just his luck. “If you’re going to be doing metalwork and the like then at least build a shed or something for it in the yard.” What all did such a task need? He didn’t know and he didn’t especially care at the moment. Maybe when he calmed down he’d happily listen to an explanation, but right now he was trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.

So busy attempting to untangle the mop, Jimmy failed to notice the silence behind him. Not until he’d turned to his companion in search of absent assistance and was instead met with wide, red eyes. Something like wonder swam in them, along with far too many other emotions that made Jimmy tense up in his confusion. “You would let me build that?”

An ‘ of course? ’ nearly fell from his lips without thought, before he absorbed Tango’s words. Before it occurred to him the implications of his own. 

Many things in Jimmy’s home had changed in the past two months. A sewing machine and new lights were gifts. Redstone tools and work boots filled spaces that had been empty before and could be emptied at any point. The extra seating in his shop and the new bed in a guest room which was formerly storage were accommodations for a second presence, but they were without character.

But a work shed…

Feathers raised on end. He turned away, focusing back on the mop, though he suddenly felt the energy to clean abandon him. “Or at least go to Impulse’s if you intend to blow up an oven.” He said instead of any of the thoughts darting around his mind. He was not his brother, he was most certainly not his brother. “I’d rather keep my house.”

Tango gaped like a fish, ready to say something, but ultimately snapped shut. He walked up, giving a small nod for Jimmy to step out of the way, and bent down into the closet. Within a few seconds the mop was in his hands and the door was closed. “I’ll clean up.”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Okay.” A tightness encased his chest. There wasn’t time to think about it. He needed to finish gardening, then he needed to put the last touches on Lizzie’s dress before she picked it up tomorrow. Then-

“Hey, Jim?” Tango called just as the avian reached the back door. “I need to go pick some redstone up from Joe for a job.” His tail twitched, “Do you need anything?”

“Just… Pick up my order from him. And ask him when the next train shipment will be in.” Jimmy said, nearly too quiet, pulling his wings in close to his back. “It should have your nether fabrics.”

-

Woven straw thudded hard against the wood bar counter from the weight of the raw redstone and metal plates within. Tango’s forehead followed, groan escaping as he wrapped his arm around his face. Cold seeped into his skin from the wood for a brief moment before his own high body temperature heated it faster than it could cool him.

Heavy steps approached, and a glass was placed down next to his elbow. “Rough day already? It’s only noon.”

Tango lifted his head just enough to pout at Impulse, who smiled back. He grabbed the glass given, to discover it was only seltzer. Of course his friend would be responsible when he least wanted it. His face twisted. “I think I upset Jimmy.”

“Oh no, what did you do to the poor fellow this time?” There was more amusement than anything in his voice.

“I might have used his oven as an impromptu forge.”

“Tango!”

“It wasn’t that bad!” He knew he couldn’t defend his poor choices. “I just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible.”

Impulse’s expression softened before he turned back to cleaning a plate, tail sweeping up in sympathy. The saloon was practically empty at this hour, all the miners back to work and most everyone else busy for another few hours. Skizz was off collecting from the brewery and Zed had run off after some bird he’d seen, leaving the two men alone. Thank the heavens, because Tango wasn’t sure he could deal with their energy at the moment. Once Impulse set the plate aside, he asked, “How much do you have saved up now?”

“Not enough.” Was the only real answer. “Less than I made at the mine in a month, and it’s not exactly reliable. I need to find a real job.”

Impulse hummed, glancing down at his bar. “You know if I could only afford it, I’d hire you.”

“I know you would, buddy.” He sighed, leaning back. “And no one wants another redstoner with Mumbo in town, not when they barely need one. The options out here are somehow both limitless and incredibly limited.”

“You could become a rancher.”

“And compete with Beef?” Tango threw his hand in the air, raised his eyebrow. “The man feeds this and every town within several days travel twice over. Best I could do is beg him to be one of his cowboys, and that ain’t exactly better than the mines pay-wise.”

“Then what about a bandit?” Impulse joked.

“Right, yeah. Because I’d be great with a gun, and I don’t personally know bounty hunters who could hog tie me before I ever sniffed a single copper.”

The two men had a good chuckle simply imagining it before the bar fell silent again. Tango fiddled with the seltzer, taking a small sip now again, mulling over his situation in his head over and over. “Maybe I should just go and beg Fwhip for my job back.”

The last clean plate was placed away, and Impulse turned his full attention onto his friend. “Even if he agreed, then you’d just be back in their barracks, wouldn’t you?” He tilted his head with a knowing smile. “You might as well move back east and get yourself an engineering job at a factory.”

Tango turned away, hiding his warming face behind his palm. “Shut it. It’s not like I can live with Jimmy forever, anyways.”

“You might, if you stopped fooling around and properly courted the fellow.”

“But that’s part of the problem!” He hissed, pushing out of the chair to throw his hands out further. “I can’t just court someone I’m leeching from. Jimmy’s real kind, but he ain’t stupid enough to accept a beggar relying on his money and home, who almost blew up his kitchen. Even a blind man can see how bad that looks.”

Impulse shook his head and dipped into a cupboard. “Well, it’s better than being a gambler or an alcoholic.”

“Setting the bar real high for me, there.” Tango slumped against the bar, glaring at his friend’s back. “One step above rock bottom. Real catch I am.”

“Downright irresistible.” A small bag was placed on the counter in front of the blazeborn. Though full, it gave way easily, and Tango suspected he knew its contents before Impulse explained. “Before you go, would you mind asking Jimmy to alter these before the dinner party? Skizz and I ordered them by catalogue but there wasn’t an option for tail or wing accommodations.”

A common story, Tango had come to learn. Catalogues often had several options for measurements and colours, but couldn’t be bothered to offer even the slightest alterations to the actual patterns. Not when they were paying some poor homebody copper on the diamond to make several a day. Normally most folks would do such small alterations themselves on work clothes. Impulse was never one too good with a needle and thread, however, and for such nice clothing it was best to leave it to Jimmy. Tango collected both the bag and grocery basket, downed the last of his seltzer, and dropped a copper before heading out. “I’ll see what he can do.”

“Don’t worry so much about Jimmy.” Said Impulse as he left. “You know he doesn’t see it that way. Take his advice and focus on getting things together. I’m sure there’s a place for you in town, whatever you want to do.”

If only life were that kind.

-

Jimmy had made an irreparable mess of everything.

That was the conclusion he’d come to after all these hours alone. He’d made a fool of himself making a fool of Tango and chased him off for good. Shown his true colours. Chosen his house over his housemate. All but told him to pack his bags and get out over nothing, he’d be surprised if he bothered to return. Which, in all fairness, it seemed he wouldn’t be, given how long it’d been since he left. It didn’t take three hours to shop, did it? 

Well, perhaps on occasion it did, but it wasn’t as though Tango had a long list when he left. A list that, at Jimmy’s request, included the task of checking to see how much longer Tango would be in his hair. No, he had certainly made an utter mess of it all.

It was evening when Tango returned, around when Jimmy was thinking of closing up and returning to his living room to wallow in his idiocy. “I’m back.” Tango declared, distracted with balancing his acquisitions. Jimmy placed down the pattern he was cutting to rush over and help just in time before a case perched precariously fell to its doom. A true heroic moment, given the amazingly tiny gears it was filled with, spotted when they had everything placed down on the table and Tango checked it hadn’t broken open. 

Jimmy didn’t bother peeking at the rest, collecting the few vegetables bought and bringing them to his cleaned kitchen. By the time he returned Tango was already sorting his redstone into the small workspace Jimmy had afforded him. His face had screwed up in concentration. A tension hung in the air for too long, Jimmy’s feathers raised on end as he waited for Tango’s usual chatter. It didn’t appear it would come. “You’re a bit later than I expected, honestly.” Stuttered Jimmy.

Tango wiped his redstone-stained hands on his pants. “I ran into Cleo on my way home. There was something jammed in her printing press. Turned out to be a frog she accidentally gazed at.” There was no need for proof, but Tango produced the small stone frog with a grin. It was, admittedly, very cute. Jimmy let his shoulders ease some, which Tango took unfortunate notice of. “What? Did… Did I miss supper?” 

“No! No, I haven’t even started yet, honestly.” Jimmy assured, reminded once again of his carrot-predicament. “It, um, we’ll actually not be having cake today either. An issue came up with… ingredients.”

He got an odd look, but eventually Tango shrugged it off. “So, what’s wrong, then?” Tension now built in the blazeborn as well, his tail jerking in agitation.

Well, there was nothing else he could do now. Jimmy had been building up the nerves ever since he checked the kitchen and found it spotless. More honestly, it had been mulling in the back of his mind since he last saw Tango. Thoughts that had distracted him while doing careful work and forced him on his feet to pace out the stress. Grian always said he had a habit of shoving his foot in his mouth, but Jimmy never felt so painfully aware of it until now.

“Jimmy?”

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for shouting at you this morning. I was just… No, I shouldn’t have. There’s no excuse for you to be treated that way.”

Tango’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh- No! What are you talking about, I completely deserved it?”

But Jimmy shook his head, wringing his hands nervously. Oh, he couldn’t keep still. “You absolutely did not. I panicked and didn’t listen to you. I…” He swallowed. I don’t want you to leave. How could he say that? Or any of the other thoughts that had built themselves into mountains in his mind through the day, only to crumble into nonsense now that Tango was here in front of him again? He closed his mouth before he could humiliate himself.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Tango said weakly. He put down the frog and approached. “You’ve done so much for me, and all I’ve done is dick around, distract you, and make a mess of your house.”

“I like your mess.” The words tumbled out of Jimmy’s mouth before he could stop them. Every pin feather on his head raised, the skin under turning bright red. The universe truly despised him today.

Tango seemed unsure how to react, a nervous laugh replacing whatever he intended to say. He took his time pulling himself back together, a period in which Jimmy only marginally managed to recover himself, and walked back to the table. “I, um, got your order. And Impulse asked me to bring these suits for you to modify before the party.” He rambled, messing with the edge of the cloth.

Jimmy could work with that. He took a deep breath and let his mind shift back into work mode. “Let me see.” The clothes were laid out, both looking over what needed to be done. “Well, alterations for tails is the most common I’ve had to do, after wings.” He mused aloud, tugging at the fabric. “But if it’s for formal-wear we should make it as presentable as possible.”

Tango’s tail curled around himself, bending awkwardly to try looking at his own work pants. “You just leave a gap in the top of the seam, don’t you?”

“For your tail, perhaps.” Jimmy reached out and tugged between two fingers at the tufted end when it waved past. An affronted squeak escaped the blazeborn, his tail yanking itself away from the light grip. “It’s so thin, you don’t have to worry about your undergarments sticking out, or an embarrassment while removing them. You could have a tail sleeve if you wanted to be especially unfashionable.” He chuckled at the mental image. “Impulse’s tail is considerably thicker and less flexible, however. And those scales of his love to catch on delicate fabrics like this. It’d be best to give him a button clasp.”

“Having to make such completely different adjustments even for the exact same limb…” Tango groaned. “You’re a saint.”

“It seems like much more work when you’re unfamiliar with it.” He waved him off, reaching for the needle he’d had Mumbo modify for undoing stitches. It was so far and above using a random needle or razor. Invaluable in this day and age of mail order and mass production, but Mumbo had insisted it was a silly little gift and turned his attention to his more ridiculous inventions, in Jimmy’s humble opinion. Perhaps some other folks could stand to be a bit more reverent about Jimmy’s work like Tango, actually, or at least offer some respect. “Much of tailoring is the same task in different shapes and combinations.”

Impulse had always had similar issues with clothing as Tango- that is, the acidity in the oils from his scales loved to eat through most fibres, so his selection was limited. Wool was the best common option, of which the jacket was at least made of. Better than attempting to find Void-sourced leathers. Trousers, and the base of the tail especially, were vulnerable to deterioration and staining due to direct contact without the protection of undergarments. Jimmy contemplated if he should line it, or if it would ruin the quality. He was no high-end suit maker who confidently placed his stitching on display to the world, and he likely lacked matching material. At least he was not tasked with making hats for the drake.

He moved on to Skizz’s suit. It would be much easier despite requiring entirely new openings. Though he was not an avian, his flightless wings were feathered like theirs, only requiring minor adjustments to accommodate their motions. There was little he could do to get around the awkward way they would distort the outfit’s silhouette when in motion, the current popular fashions were not made with winged folk in mind.

“It seems crazy, with how many there are.” Tango mused, and only then did Jimmy realize he’d been narrating his thoughts while he worked. A habit he’d grown over the last several weeks.

“Yes, well, numbers aren’t especially meaningful when it comes to setting trends. It’s not the common man on the plates they display in advertisements and magazines. It’s required to look presentable, even if their form cannot fit.”

Tango’s tail twitched, his head tilting to the side. “You know, sometimes you talk like you aren’t much of a fan of your work.”

“I love my work.” Jimmy quickly defended, placing the suit back down. “It’s simply frustrating attempting to modify clothes like this to accommodate everyone it was not made for, rather than creating clothes made for them. Most people aren’t brave enough to wear something that might stand out, and I can’t blame them. You would think living all the way out here might help with that, but ‘polite society’ finds its way everywhere it seems.”

Truthfully, he had only occasionally had such thoughts until recently. Most often while working on preparing the patterns for when Tango’s fabrics got in, which had leaked into his time working on Lizzie’s gown, then retroactively in quiet moments when contemplating the work he’d done for Bigb and Ren. Tango had said so himself, Nether clothing had been draped. Why didn’t he make something similar?

Perhaps he’d taken it a bit to heart recently.

Which reminded him…

“You collected my order from Joe?” He asked. Tango perked up and ran over to the cabinet. He brought over a set of vibrant wool fabrics, placing them down spread out across the desk. Jimmy’s wings fluttered behind him.

A rich violet was lifted up by Tango. “I’m surprised you could afford these. I thought this type of thing was expensive?”

“Normally, yes.” Jimmy admitted, sorting through the shades. “These are new, though, made with a special dye. They call this one mauveine.”

Surprisingly, Tango’s eyes shone with recognition and excitement. “Oh, that was in the newspapers and magazines a few years ago. They created it accidentally from aniline. The first of its kind, they’ve started trying to make all sorts of dyes synthetically from aniline now.”

“Yes.” Jimmy replied, a bit dumbfounded. “Well, it’s becoming quite popular, and more than a few people in town are fond of these bright colours. I bought a few I could find to try.”

“They’re the way of the future.”

“That’s what Mumbo says.” He rubbed his thumb into the fabric, eyeing it with suspicion. “I’m not so sure, though. I’ve heard they fade quickly, and how safe could it be? One made recently left burns.”

The blazeborn only shrugged. “I mean, if they’re selling them even all the way out here, these ones have to be safe.”

“Or it’s the only place left where they can scam customers out of their money, like Scar.” Jimmy snorted. “You would be surprised at some of the ridiculous things I’ve seen people purchase simply because it had a lovely advert in the paper, or heard about from their second cousin in the city who insisted it was the big new thing.”

“What can I say, aren’t new inventions exciting? The mistakes are the fun part, anyways.” Came the response, followed by a cackle when Jimmy’s face twisted. “These seem to be fine, though. Your hands are as pretty as ever.”

“I change my mind. Why are you still in my house.”

Tango’s laughter only roared louder until Jimmy could no longer keep the smile off his lips and joined him. When the pair calmed down once more he pushed the mauve fabric to the side. “This isn’t quite the shade I want, though. I’ll save it for Lizzie.”

“This one’s nice.” Tango picked up another, redder shade. Next to him it certainly was, matching the fiery golds of his hair and red eyes. That was all Jimmy needed to make up his mind.

“It is.” He said, taking it from his companion. “I think I’ll use it.”

“For what?”

“Secret.”

Tango made a whine, but Jimmy held strong, only putting his finger to his lips before walking the fabrics back to the cabinet.

“How about we go make supper? Since my oven is now usable again.”

Hands flung into the air with a groan. “You mess up one time! I swear!”

“Yes, yes.” He cooed, shooing Tango off to the kitchen. “Let’s go, my little genius, you can use your blacksmithing skills on the potatoes.”

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

SFW🌿

⭑ Since the events of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Wizarding World was in need of rebuilding. Creatures, teachers, as well as students, had died in the war against Voldemort. 

⭑ Morale was low, and those that usually put smiles on people’s faces were gone

⭑ It was a confusing time - whilst people were celebrating, others were mourning. Where evil used to tread, flowers now bloomed but hearts would forever be broken, or at the very least, still have parts missing. 

⭑ As that year at Hogwarts was thoroughly interrupted, students were invited back to re-learn and take proper exams. 

⭑ This was where you and Ron had truly connected

⭑ If you’re muggleborn than you would LOVE showing Ron different things and watching his expressions. He’s literally mindblown, especially over mundane things like computers ... or like the hairdressers:

  “Y/n, they get paid to stand there all day and CUT PEOPLE’S HAIR?”

        “Um, yeah? I mean there’s more to it than that but...”

“We just charm the scissors...” He mutters to himself

⭑ Years had passed and your love for Hogwarts had never ceased. But you did not wish to be a teacher

⭑ But you felt most at home when you were within the castle’s walls 

⭑ So, McGonnagal invited you and Ron to come back and talk to the younger years. 

⭑ Hermione had her years firmly on the Ministry, so her attendance was limited compared to Ron’s, Harry’s, Neville’s, Ginny’s, and your own. 

⭑ You grew close with Ginny; she became a close confidant. You always sit next to each other at family dinners and get-togethers. 

⭑ Because of their grief, Ron and George become really close

⭑ And at times George felt really guilty, and that he was replacing Fred in some type of way.

⭑ There was a period when George isolated himself, and didn’t even bother about the Weasley joke shop. So, you and Ron stepped up and took over. 

⭑ After about 8 months, George decided to come back and at first, there was a lot of tension. But a family blow-up is sometimes exactly what needs to happen to grow. 

⭑ With Hogwarts starting to thrive once again, you and Ron weren’t sure of your future. That’s when George asked the both of you to stay on, full-time. 

⭑ You and Ron put smiles back onto the faces of hundreds of people

⭑ Your shenanigans never ceased - 

⭑ And many people thought Ron would be the wild one, but you react before thinking and live life how you want to

⭑ He always sleeps on the right side of the bed

⭑ Oh, and you would definitely live in a cozy house not far from Diagon Alley

⭑ It’s like an updated Burrow

⭑ You guys DEFINITELY have pets - I can see you being a animal lover, and Ron would end up being the voice of reason:

  “But y/n, we just got a kitten-”

             “Ronnnnnn, you have to see him, he’s so old and he would just sit in the sun the whole day!”

    “Get him then!”

 You sighed contently, “good ... because he’s in the shed ...”

          ⭑ Relationship Tropes: 

  ✧ Touch-Starved x Ray Of Sunshine

  ✧ Constant Banter

  ✧ Similar Personalities

   NSFW🔞minors dni!

⭑ At first, Ron thought he was the dominant one - or rather, thought that he would be. 

⭑ Roleplay kink (especially dressing in sexy lingerie, possibly a nurse?) 

⭑ He’s surprisingly large; more girthy than in length 

⭑ Ron’s sex drive levels with your own; although when you’re trying to seduce him - it always works

⭑ He actually loves when you cum together. It makes him feel whole, and energetically close with you 

⭑ Would definitely be up for quickies; although he does feel bad that you wouldn’t have as much pleasure as he would (if you’re a woman or a bottom)

⭑ DEFINITELY x1000 has a breeding kink!!! He loves the thought of filling you with his cum, your round with his child. 

⭑ He likes a mix of degradation and praise; you’ll make him get on his knees, and beg. On the other hand, he loves when you make him feel like the only man in the world

⭑ He definitely gets embarrassed when you want to get physical around his family 

⭑ And the first time he saw George smile was when he walked in on you two

⭑ He likes to cum in your underwear, even when he’s just jacking off

⭑ Ron’s aftercare is holding you as close as possible, and falling asleep 

[my-writings-and-musings]

We have our conclusion! Through the power of democracy we have arrived on IDW Swerve x Reader, heavy on the fluff! This was incredibly fun to do, I'm a bit of a data nerd so having numbers to go with ideas just makes me happy, you know? Also we had a pretty good mix getting here!

Without further ado, here's the fic!

No one who hadn't seen it would have ever believed you, but you'd learned from firsthand experience the secret Cybertronians were most desperate to protect; they were utterly adorable when they got sleepy.

Between the yawns and the clumsy rubs of their optics, the towering species somehow managed to shed every bit of their renowned intimidation when they felt the urge to recharge, and after countless late night escapades and sleepovers you'd gathered enough data to confirm the phenomenon applied to every single bot. Some were a bit more precious than others when the weight of exhaustion pulled on their heavy optics, but you'd decided the cutest among them had to be the mech you enjoyed hanging out with the most, and tonight he was in rare form.

Swerve had made himself into a partial blanket fort for the two of you atop his berth, settling you into his lap after draping himself with some of the many sheets he'd piled into a makeshift nest for maximum comfort whilst movie marathoning. After several hours of binging and snacking you were admittedly a little worn down, but the bot at your back was obviously struggling to keep his optics open. You could feel him sagging forward an additional inch every so often, and the occasional glance upwards revealed his visor dimming whilst his reactions to the story grew increasingly subdued. After taking a while to see if he would speak up (and appreciating the cuteness) you decided to give him an easy out.

"Swerve?" you said when an especially quiet moment in the film gave you a chance to pause it on the wall sized monitor, pocketing your remote and leaning forward so you could look backwards and upwards more easily.

The barkeep startled a little at the query, then blinked in confusion as he looked down at his lap. All of his usual smooth sass was nonexistent as he visibly wrangled with his exhausted processor to produce a single syllable; "Huh?"

"It's okay if we call it a night, we can finish the movie tomorrow." you offered helpfully, certain now that his shift at the bar must have taken far more out of him than it usually did. To your slight surprise, he gave his helm a shake and quickly plastered on an upbeat smile, holding you a little closer in a manner that was more protective than possessive.

"What? Don't be silly, I've got at least..." he trailed off in thought, something that looked quite difficult for him with so little energy to spare. "Two... Three more whole movies in me! Not tired at all..."

You'd never heard a more obvious lie in all of your life, and your heart felt a twinge of pain at his desperate bid to ignore his own needs for your benefit. It was hardly out of habit for him, but it always made you sad to think how he didn't believe you stuck around because you liked him, and that he was allowed to have his own needs and wants. Putting a hand over one of his, you spoke plainly to try and cut through the lie. "You look exhausted."

"Hey, this is just my face, nothing I can do about that!" Swerve countered quickly, fake smile growing ever less convincing. "Besides, you know me! I've stayed up way later than this, and we don't get to hang out that much as of late, so-"

You realized there was simply no way to get him to acknowledge his needs, so you changed strategy on the fly, knowing there was one easy way to get him to turn in. "What if I'm tired?"

That did the trick straight away.

"Oh, well uh... In that case, you should get some sleep." he agreed with a nod. When his shoulders slumped and he made to rise from the berth, you realized he was once again failing to realize you intended to spend the night, despite that always being your preference. "I can take you back to your room-"

"Can't I stay the night?" you asked quickly, smiling in affectionate exasperation at his inability to realize you enjoyed spending time with him. The question perked him up right away, and a genuinely happy smile cut right through the fog of his exhaustion.

"Sure, if you want!" he agreed straight away, trying and failing to untangle himself from the blankets as the temptation of sleep made movement increasingly more difficult. "Let me just get the screen powered down, then we can get comfy."

"I've got it, you go ahead and settle in." you assured him as you pulled out your remote, giving him the opportunity to rest at long last while you shut down the movie and the projector. Despite his weariness, you felt him perking up at your back, the fact that you were spending the night making him happier than any amount of words could ever convey. Still, he couldn't stop himself from yawning the second you turned back to the screen.

"Just going to rest my helm here..." he said with a bit of a slur, lying back when you left his lap and settling somewhat heavily on the nest of blankets. In what couldn't have been more than an instant the sound of gentle ventilations met your ears, and you chuckled softly as the screen offlined and the room went dark. Turning to see him already deeply powered down on his side, you felt your heart warm with affection. All of the stress of the day had evaporated from his frame, and he looked utterly adorable amongst the messy nest of blankets.

"Goodnight, Swerve." you whispered before tugging a blanket across his square frame, getting him as covered as you could before cuddling up against his chassis. Laying a pillow on his arm and pressing your back to his front, you let the soft hum of his spark lull you to sleep, and you didn't miss the smile that spread across his peaceful face as he subconsciously pulled you closer.

[dragons-ire]

#8 Shed

The underground hideout had started as almost nothing. An ancient cistern, empty and hidden from view by a well placed rock and overgrown underbrush.

When he’d first come back to the Shroud, he’d stumbled on it almost by accident. Used it to store his gear, occasionally shelter out of the rain. It was damp and uncomfortable, but it was hidden from the sun and the watchful eyes of the elementals and the Quivermen alike.

Over time, he’d discovered one of the weakest walls had been hastily bricked up over a passage that lead into a larger chamber and started building from there. Furnishings fallen off supply caravans that were upgraded piece by piece. Places to catch and reroute the damp and the water that bubbled up from the stones. Places for the ground plants that grew behind the damp, inexplicably in the dark. 

Just the Wood moving in by increments as it invariably did.

Somewhere along the way, a pulley system had been put up so a visitor could descend without needing to jump down in the dark. Breandan used it tonight, carefully lowering himself into the blackness until he was safely concealed below.

He drifted over to the closest patch of soft flowers on the ground and lowered himself onto it. A moment later, he leaned over to lay on one side.

He stared into the dim light, a hand curled to his ribs, for what felt like a long time Eyes touching closed,then open. It was a long moment before he turned onto his back with a muted groan, removing his had to touch one ear.

“..Hey.” The soft rasp of his voice didn’t carry so far. “...are you at home?”

"Oh! Hi! Yeah, I’m here. Where are you? Are you back?" The voice on the other end of the linkpearl was practically vibrating in excitement. She always sounded excited. She always looked happy to see and hear from him.

“Yeah, I’m down here.” He murmured in response. A sound escaped his throat like a sigh

“...hey. I’m sorry, but…do you think you could come down here?” He thought about hauling himself all the way back up to the surface, and then he asked her a favor. “Pick up supper on the way? I’ll pay you back.”

"..oh,! Yeah I can do that!  It’s okay. I have money. What do you want?"

“Lentils and chestnuts. And a bottle of mead.”

“Okay! I’ll be right down, don’t go anywhere!”

Breandan closed his eyes and went still again. Alone in the dark with his own thoughts, his thoughts meandered as if possessed with a life of  their own.

This isn’t fair, you know. It’s not fair to her, the way you  live. You come and go when you need things. Inconsistent. Reckless. She hides you in her house, she runs your errands, 

What are you doing here other than being a burd-

“Hey. I’m here. You okay?”

Her soft voice in his ear and hand on her shoulder broke the last thought before it could take root. He opened his eyes with a sound, pressing a hand to the stone to sit.

“No.” It was an honest answer he elaborated on. “I mean….I will be. I got stabbed. But I got it looked at. I’m fine.”

Her violet brows drew together with an emotion that felt like being stabbed all over again. Instead of dwelling on it, she passed the

“I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. Here, Buscarron said they were fresh.”

With a mumbled sound like ‘thanks,’ Breandan took the container and hunched over it like a wary animal. He ate methodically - knowing he needed to, forcing himself to start and then continue. Punctuated bites with pulls of mead straight from the bottle, passing it to her to wash down the hand-sized apple tart she’d picked out for her own dinner.

Every time she passed the bottle back, she inched a little closer. The length of her thigh gently pressing along the length of his, Her head on his shoulder, breath warm against the side of his neck. Nestling gently to his good side, mindful of any lingering bruises or tender spots.

By the time their food was eaten, the mead bottle was about empty. She leaned in and across to hand it over, balancing a knee on the outside of either hip.

“Mmm, hi there.” Breandan’s lips quirked in a private expression, a smile, before taking the last drink, lowering the bottle to set aside.  

“Hi.” She half-whispered in his ear, one of her deft hands untucking his shirt from the back to slip her fingers against his spine.”You look tired.”

“...yeah, I am tired.”  She leaned in closer, and hs tilted his head back. Feeling her breath, then the touch of her lips against his jawline. 

“You want to get in the water?” One lapine ear brushed his cheek as she turned her head, glancing at the pool in the corner of the space as if to indicate. “Betcha it’d make you feel better.”

“....yeah” He answered without too much thought. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

His fingers grasped her shirt. He balled the fabric in a fist and pulled up.

(feat. @snakemoltsiren's Yulia)

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[arvensimp]

Hi! I’d love to add some more onto dog dad Arven as someone who grew up around large dogs.

When I was a baby, my family already had a boxer. He was…massive. He was a little extra chunky bc of medication he was on, so my first years were spent around this 85 lb behemoth.

This 85lb behemoth was the biggest crybaby and we loved him. Before he grew up my parents loved picking him up and people always said “what are you going to do when he’s too big to carry?”

Guess what: My dad would *still* scoop him up when he got scared (and trust me this dog was afraid of his own shadow), when he was tired, when we had to go somewhere but he didn’t feel like moving, the Dad Taxi TM was in business 24/7. Especially as he got older and couldn’t walk as far.

Now, if I remember correctly Mabosstiff Pokémon are closer to about 130, making my giant dog look like a toddler in comparison. Still, you can’t tell me as the two get older, or while mabosstiff is sick, Arven didn’t scoop him up like a little baby at times. Sure, the pokeball exists, but when they’re hiking in his favorite trail and mabosstiff starts to grow tired, he still wants his buddy to enjoy the outdoors too.

His arms are tired, there’s drool on his shoulder, and he’s covered in fur (you can’t tell me a dog that size doesn’t shed like crazy) but he’d do it 100 times over for his best friend.

Sorry, I just love the concept of massive dogs being the biggest babies at heart.

Oh yes anon!!! You're right and you should shout it from the hill tops!!!

Mabosstiff 100% still thinks he's baby. He's a lap dog, too. No one else understands that but Arven. That's all.

Arven also doesn't mind the sloppy drooly puppy boy 🥺🥺🥺🥺 mastiffs are so drooly but it's okay we love him anyway

Also yes he 100% sheds a huge amount of fur. Arven even says so in game. I'd bet at this point he could probably groom just about any furry pokemon just from his experience with meticulously caring for Mabosstiff as well as he does.

Imagine Arven with a furfrou omf the style and panache. Stunning.

[dragongirlcloaca]

Give it up for more self-indulgent smut!!

[Extreme size difference, cum inflation, minor sheath play]

Ci rapped as loud as it could on the bottom of the apartment door, hoping its minuscule fist would be enough to alert Raya to her presence. It was just about to pull out its phone and text her when the door swung open, revealing a tall wolfgirl with a silky chocolate coat, absolutely towering over the 1’4” dragon standing outside

“Hi! Come on in!”, Raya said, smiling.

She led Ci into the apartment, careful not to step on it and giving it plenty of time to catch up to her gargantuan strides. The two entered the kitchen, and Ci fluttered up to the counter to make communication easier.

“Oh! I didn’t know dragons could fly”, said Raya, quizzical.

“Some can, but it depends”, replied Ci. “I do sometimes, but I get tired fast, and with my size I don’t really cover a lot of distance.”

“That’s still pretty neat!” the wolf said. “Tea?”

Ci nodded, and Raya went to put on the kettle.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m...well...ogling you, it’s just that I’ve never seen a dragon as small as you”, she said over her shoulder.

“It’s all good!”, Ci assured. “I’m pretty rare as they come. It certainly has its ups and downs, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I think it’s cute as well”, Raya said, grinning, and Ci blushed, its mint scales showing a faint hint of pink.

The kettle soon finished boiling, and the two sat down for tea, Ci sitting on an overturned mug and drinking out of a shot glass. The two sit and drink, making polite conversation, before the conversation eventually turns to the matter at hand.

“So, what sort of stuff did you have in mind?” Asked Raya smirking, as Ci grew redder.

“Well...um...I was kind of hoping that...you would...-”

“That I would what, Ci? Good dragons use their words”, Raya interjected, dealing a fatal blow to the dragon’s final shred of dignity and causing it to take on the appearance of a flustered tomato.

“T-that you would treat me like a toy and use me however you want!” Ci blurted out, its snout buried in its paws. “Please?”

Raya grinned, fangs barely visible. “I can certainly do that, darling. Why don’t we start with some ground rules?” She leaned over the table, dwarfing the miniature dragon and drinking in the combined expression of lust and fear on its face. “First, unlike good dragons, good toys don’t talk. I would love to gag your pretty little snout, but alas, I doubt I have a gag small enough, so I’ll trust you on that. Secondly, a good toy also doesn’t move. Starting now, you’re just a cute little dragon fucktoy, completely helpless and powerless. And lastly, I want you to be absolutely aware that if it’s ever too much, just say so and I’ll stop right away, no questions asked. Ça va?”

Ci nodded.

“Good,” said Raya. I’m sure I’ll have lots of fun with you, toy.”

Raya rose from her chair, reached over, and lifted up the Ci, slinging it over their shoulder, and strolled down the hallway to her bedroom. Once there, she set Ci down in the middle of the bed, and walked over to her dresser, and added a few drops of oil to a diffuser, sending a pleasant floral fragrance wafting through the room. She dimmed the lights, and lit several candles scattered around the room before tantalizingly shedding her casual t-shirt and jeans to reveal stunning, blood red lingerie that left little of her lithe form to the imagination. Finally, she returned to the bed, seating herself down next to Ci’s limp form.

“I like the look of this toy,” Raya said, lifting the dragon her in paws as if to inspect it. “A real keeper, if you ask me.” She frowned. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the accessories, though.”

She began stripping Ci, setting its clothes and glasses neatly aside. She set it down on her leg, deftly dragging its panties down with a single claw and discarding them.

“What do we have here?” She inquired, lifting Ci and spreading its legs to study its cloaca. “Well, a hole is a hole.”

Raya dragged a claw upwards, running it over the dragon’s soft scales and up to its snout, where she gently pried open its mouth, pushing a finger in to measure. She deemed it satisfactory, and set Ci back on bed. Raya began shedding herself of her lacy panties, exposing her fat, furred balls and sheath. She toyed with it a bit, fucking her sheath with a finger, before picking Ci back up and pushing its snout into her sheath. Raya laid back against the headboard, propping herself up as she used the dragon to fuck her sheath. Pushing it in to her sheath with one paw, she absentmindedly toyed with its breasts with the other, pinching and twisting the tiny nipples. As she slowly grew erect, she could feel the head of her cock pressing into Ci’s snout. Raya pushed down harder, and her cock forced the dragon’s mouth open. “On second thought, gags are overrated”, she thought. She bottomed out soon after as her wolfcock became too wide for the miniature dragon, but kept Ci there, coating her cock in the spit leaking from its maw.

At its full length, Raya’s impressive cock was almost as long as Ci’s entire torso. Lubing herself up with a mixture of precum, spit, and the juices beginning to drip from Ci’s needy cloaca, she wrapped the dragon around her cock, pinning its wings to its sides, and began to stroke, rubbing along its entire body along her member and stimulating herself with the scales covering its belly. She sped up her stroking slowly, albeit mindful that she was using a live dragon as a fucktoy and holding off from full throttle. Raya soon neared climax, and with a lilting howl she ejaculated, covering Ci in thick cum.

After a moment’s rest, she wiped her dick off onto the dragon’s cleanest wing, and lifted it up and licked all the way from its hips to snout, cleaning her cum off of Ci and swallowing it. Raya paused, and then, smiling, wiped off most of the remaining cum with a finger and pushed it into the dragon’s mouth and forced it to swallow. “I’m really liking this new toy. Now let’s get into the real fun.” She laid the helpless Ci out on the bed, spread-eagle, and slowly, methodically traced a sharp claw down its soft stomach, taking all the time in the world before arriving at its cloaca, a beautiful pink flower in contrast to the mint scales covering the rest of its body. Raya leaned down and gave it a taste, experimentally pushing her thick tongue into the dragon’s tight slit. She lapped at the sweet slick flowing from within, and then brushed a pinkie with its claw deliberately trimmed up against Ci’s cloaca, tenderly feeling the delicate slit.

Ever so slowly, Raya begins to push her finger into the tiny dragon, feeling its insides gradually deform as she fucks it like a finger puppet. She licks her lips, and presses her other paw to Ci’s abdomen, feeling her finger inside its guts. She slowly pulls it out a little before driving it back in, using her other paw to hold Ci down to the bed. Raya takes pleasure in fingerfucking the dragon, salivating over how adorable its diminutive form looks pinned to the bed and treated like a lifeless toy. She slows her thrusts, removing her other paw to tend to her rapidly re-hardening cock. She begins to pump her paw down her dick as she fucks Ci, only pausing to smear some of its juices on her shaft to lube it up.

Raya continued to masturbate with animalistic fury until she could feel Ci beginning to quiver round her finger as it neared climax, at which point she pulled her finger all the way out, and stroked her cock until she was moments from letting loose another flood of cum. Fully consumed by lust, she picked the dragon up with both hands, set it on the tip of her cock, and pushed the massive organ as far into its cloaca as it would go- not very far, but enough to spread Ci wide open and give both it and Raya the last bit of stimulation they needed to climax. Raya shot a massive load of hot seed into the dragon, bulging out its abdomen as she bucked her hips in ecstasy. Eventually, her orgasm faded, and she set Ci down on her chest, cum leaking onto her fur.

“How was that?” Raya asked Ci, gently stroking the dragon’s bloated stomach. “You’re free to talk again now, darling.

“That w-was amazing,” it said, stretching out before collapsing onto Raya’s breast. “I think I could go for a nap now, though.

[freewillacquired]

Shedding The Past || closed with realprojectalice

@realprojectalice​ | {This is set after the events of Resident Evil: The Final Chapter.}

Almost nothing had been left of Nemesis after Raccoon City had been “sanitized” by a nuclear device. He’d been unconscious, clocked in the face by the wreckage of the Umbrella helicopter he’d shot down to protect Alice and her friends. When he woke, he couldn’t feel his body. That’s because he no longer had a body to feel. He was little more than a head, his brain miraculously protected by his thickened skull and the metal the helicopter had buried him under. Once he returned to consciousness, his mental distress combined with the trauma to his body and the lack of anything to hold it back caused the T-virus to regenerate at an alarming rate. It grew him a new spine, new organs, new limbs... all within minutes. But it didn’t just regenerate what had already been there, oh no. It was out of control…

Once the virus was satisfied with itself, Nemesis was nearly twice his original size. His body was now better equipped to travel on all-fours rather than walking upright on two legs, and he’d acquired tentacles on his back. They were long, thick, and had a mind of their own. His head remained the same size, but his body was broader and more heavily armored than before. Thick bone encased his oversized heart and lungs, and his hips and shoulders were more flexible in their range of motion. The vertebrae of his spine protruded through his skin, all the way down his back, the sharp bones extending up like spikes. His hands and feet were larger and more animal-like, with his fingers and toes now ending in razor sharp claws. It was as if the virus had been afraid of dying, and had overcompensated by re-growing Nemesis’ body to be larger, stronger, faster, and more durable than it was before… so that it would survive.

And survive he did, for many years after that. He’d never left his old stomping ground – so to speak, anyway, since his actual boots were long gone – around what used to be Raccoon City. For a long time he’d had hope that the infection wouldn’t spread, but that was quickly snuffed. After that, he did what he could to kill whatever undead he came across and help the occasional survivor, although he was always met with bullets, grenades, and anything else they could sling at him. That was okay, really. He understood. He was a monster, after all. That didn’t stop him from trying to help, though. It was the only thing that gave his agonizing life purpose.

Umbrella had tried to recapture him numerous times, but always it had ended poorly for them. After a few years… they stopped trying. There were no more survivors that he could find. The world was gray and dead. The environment he’d fought so hard for years ago was all but lost, along with most life on earth. So what had it all been for, anyway? Nothing. He’d tried so hard. Everyone had. And it all meant... nothing. It was a jagged pill to swallow, but despite it all, Nemesis refused to lay down and die. Not that the virus would have allowed him to do that anyway.

But then... after so many years of being alone... a familiar scent on the wind. Nemesis had been lying down near the entrance to the Hive, eerily enough the place he felt the most comfortable. Maybe it was because it was in some way connected to his past, to the man he used to be. It was something heartbreakingly familiar in a world where nothing would ever be the same again. But the moment he caught her scent, he was up on his feet and on point. Alice...? Nemesis sniffed the wind. He was sure of it, and he could feel her presence, her special brand of infection that he hadn’t encountered since that day in Raccoon City, back when there still was a city here.

He tried to locate her, but got distracted by the Cerberus bioweapons that had been released. For just a moment, in the foggy darkness of ground zero near the Hive’s entrance, he saw her. It really was Alice! She was with others and they were headed for the Hive. Nemesis knew better than to approach. He wouldn’t be well-received, he knew. But... he could make sure nothing followed them inside... He tore apart any and all bioweapons he saw, wondering what Alice wanted with the Hive. Was something going on? What did she know that he didn’t? As he killed the remaining Cerberus bioweapons and began tearing through the horde of undead that had suddenly overrun the place, he couldn’t help but feel so ecstatic to know that Alice had survived. It rekindled so much hope in him that someone could survive that long, and he had no doubt that all this time, Alice had done so much good for the world.

He lost track of time, killing as many undead as he could, until something very strange happened. They all just... fell over. Like a wave, spreading back as far as he could see. Confused, Nemesis backed away, wondering what had happened. He’d never seen undead behave like this before, and what was even strange was that he couldn’t sense any infected near him anymore. After they laid down, they only smelled like the dead, nothing more. He nudged one of them, but it didn’t move. What the hell? But since they all seemed to fall in a pattern, spreading out from a central location, Nemesis tried to find the source of whatever had affected them, tracking back to the front of the horde.

As he did so, he started to feel dizzy first. Then nauseated. Then very weak. His legs and arms trembled underneath him until they gave out and he crumpled to the ground with a pained bellow. It was hard to breathe and he began coughing up black liquid. His tentacles shriveled and fell off, and as he looked at his arms, he could see his flesh appear to ripple and begin falling away. Terrified, all Nemesis could do was make some pitiful noises of agony and fear as he watched his body begin to disintegrate before his eyes. And in that moment, he caught her scent once more, and if he could cry, he would have.

“Ah-lissss....” he bellowed, his voice gurgling with the fluid in his throat. Had she done this? Was that why she’d gone to the Hive? Had she found a way to end the infection for good? He wouldn’t put it past her. As he began to lose consciousness, Nemesis smiled in his own limited way. Well done, Alice... well done...

[simmerandwrite]

Lower the Stakes [05] - Enter Alpine

Summary: Bucky Barnes still isn’t sure of his place in the world. For Haley Fisher, making new friends has always felt like a challenge. Though getting a second chance at life gave her the opportunity to reinvent herself and determine where she fit into the world again. It’s time to shift the expectations and determine what she really wants. How does that old classic go? ‘I get by with a little help from my friends.’

(Aka the post Falcon and the Winter soldier friends-to-lovers mini series no one asked for, featuring one ‘grumpy but warming up’ centenarian and one ‘coming into her own’ plus sized original character!) Ready the pre-story here

Chapter summary:   Bucky adopts a cat, Haley pretends she doesn't have the flu. Everything is fine. (:

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size original character

Word count: 5k

Parts: Part 01 Part 02 Part 03 Part 04 Part 05 Part 06 Part 07

Notes/warnings: brief mentions of body shaming Haven’t updated this one since August and I’m sorry! It’s a bit of a backburner project but I’m happy to have you here This chapter is mostly told from Bucky’s POV. if you see me out interacting in the wild, it’ll be under @simmerandcry

---

Bucky didn’t consider himself an impulsive person. Not now, at least. Perhaps before, a long time ago, he might have been a lot less careful when it came to his decision making. But after years of strict rule following in the army, and even more torturous reprimands for breaking any rules while being brainwashed into The Winter Soldier, being cautious of every move he made became a nasty habit.

A habit he was trying to break, in some ways.

Like not thinking through every single thing he did and the ripple effect it might have on his future actions. He wanted to start considering immediate gratifications and long term impacts of things, too. But he didn’t want to always take a long time to get there.

Enter Alpine.

All it took was one glance at the stray kitten - who someone at the airstrip had found hiding out in one of the storage sheds - and Bucky knew he couldn’t leave her behind. And although Sam had protested the whole idea as they got onto the plane, the minute the small animal curled up into the crook of his arm, Bucky was set on his own decision.

Now here Bucky and Sam were - back in Bucky’s apartment in New York, getting it ready for life with a cat. Bucky had been a bit heavy handed once they got to the pet store but when he saw the little white furball traipsing through his living room, bounding up her the new cat tree they had built, he felt settled by the entire thing.

And much to Bucky’s surprise, Sam has been more than helpful. Sure, he teased Bucky throughout the whole process but Sam had taken a lot of the anxiety off Bucky when it came to his decision making. Sam had even come back to the city with him before heading home to New Orleans, choosing to spend the night on Bucky’s couch. 

While Sam took to the shower, Bucky was sitting cross legged on the floor of his living room, tossing a few balls and toys towards his new companion. When a knock at the door sounded out, a frown grew on his face as the cat ran underneath his couch.

Reluctantly, Bucky stood and slowly headed towards his door. When he opened it and saw Haley standing there, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Hey,” she started quickly with a little wave. “I sent you a message but I wasn’t sure if you were home. Figured I might just knock and see, since I was in the neighbourhood. I guess I could have called..”

“I just got back this afternoon,” Bucky answered as he ushered her in. “And I never check my voicemails anyway. You alright?”

“Oh yeah. Actually a friend of mine - her cousin is playing a little show at this bar a few blocks from here so I wanted to see if you wanted to come and..” Haley cut herself off and glanced around his living room and kitchen. “Did you get a cat?”

Bucky grinned, eyebrow raised as he glanced around. “What tipped you off?” Stepping forward a few feet, he made a small cooing noise to try and get his new roommate out of hiding. “There she is - Haley, meet Alpine.”

Haley was quick to crouch down, extending her hand out as Alpine approached. “She’s so beautiful.” 

As she acquainted herself with the cat, Bucky motioned a hand across the apartment. “And while you’re here...” Bucky had heard the shower turn off before Haley came in. And by the pace of his footsteps.. “I guess I should introduce you to Sam, too.”

Haley turned her head to look towards the small hallway across the apartment, mouth dropping into a small surprised face when she saw Sam enter the room. She rushed to stand up again, “Wow, Captain America in the flesh. Honestly, I sort of assumed Bucky was just making up all his stories about you.”

Sam grinned, eyes rolling as he made his way into the living room. “And you must be Haley. I could say the same thing.”

Haley smiled back at Bucky. “Two real examples of non-imaginary friends.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Bucky narrowed his eyes and glanced between them both. He would be lying if he hadn’t tried to calculate what this moment might look like - although he had hoped it would have been in a more controlled environment.

What was Bucky so worried about? Sam, down to his core, exuded both confidence and kindness, and paired with extensive PR training and his years of time with Veterans’ Affairs, he could keep a conversation with anyone. Haley, on the other hand, certainly came across a lot more introverted. She came across a lot more reserved, just like Bucky himself, and it had taken a while for them both to let their guards down.

Bucky hoped that introducing his friends wouldn’t impact the progress they had made so far.

And it only took minutes for Sam and Haley to sort themselves out enough to dive into a conversation. The most unsurprising thing, even, was that Bucky ended up as the outside person in the room. He kept his attention on Alpine, who had become very acquainted with Haley’s lap as she sat on the floor.

It was unimaginably cute to see Alpine’s soft little body curled up against Haley.

“So, what do you think, Buck?” Sam’s question pulled Bucky’s gaze away from Haley’s legs. Bucky had dropped down onto the couch across from them and he narrowed his eyes, unable to figure out what Sam was asking him. 

“My friend at work, Dani, her cousin plays guitar in a Fleetwood Mac cover band,” Haley jumped in, noticing Bucky’s confusion immediately. “It’s a little bar, I’m sure it’ll be a small crowd.”

Sam motioned to the sleeping cat. “I’m sure she’ll be okay for a few hours to sleep and explore this place.”

Bucky hesitated. He supposed Sam was right - cats were independent creatures and Alpine likely could use a bit of time to herself to get used to his apartment. “I don’t know that band.”

Sam scoffed, eyes rolling as he stood up. “Of course you don’t.”

Haley offered Bucky a playful smile. “You’re going to love Fleetwood Mac.”

 ---

Bucky already felt like a terrible cat parent. When he first adopted Alpine, he had every intention for her to be his adventure cat, his partner in crime - wanting to bring her out on trips anytime the opportunity presented itself. But now, after only a month, he was already hitting a snag. 

Sam had invited him visit and strategize in Delacroix and Bucky knew he always had a bed at the Wilson homestead. But AJ had a bad cat allergy and Sarah had to put a hard ‘no’ on Bucky bringing Alpine until they could get him on some regular medication. 

And now Bucky was once again grateful for Haley. He owed her a lot for deciding to take Apine in for the week Bucky was gone. 

“Listen, I appreciate any opportunity where I can work from home a few more days during the week. I mean I have to go into the office Wednesday and Friday for a bit but hopefully by then she’ll be okay on her own.. And maybe it’ll inspire me to adopt a cat, too.”

Bucky sure hoped his continuous chorus of thank yous, plus giving Haley a giftcard for her favourite coffee shop, would express his sentiment enough. 

The day he was leaving for Louisiana, he packed up everything Alpine would need for her stay at Haley’s and made his way to her apartment. He felt silly, at first, travelling with Alpine in a special carrier backpack but her happy mewls really solidified he had made the right investment. 

Haley welcomed them both in with a smile, excitedly explaining how she had temporarily adapted her apartment for Alpine’s stay.

“I made that little corner area totally open for her box, I read that cats can be strangely territorial when in a new place so hopefully this works for her,” Haley said after shutting the door behind them, crouching down to join Bucky as he carefully put down his supplies and shrugged off the carrier. “I cleaned under my bed and in my closet too, in case she hides away. One website said..”

Bucky turned his head and caught Haley’s gaze. “You did some research about this?”

“I just don’t want you to worry, I guess.” Haley shrugged, failing to hide her embarrassment. 

Bucky immediately felt guilty about making her feel bad about any of it. “No, no. I really.. I appreciate it a lot, Hales. I’m sure she’ll do great here with you”

They both stilled as Alpine let out a quiet meow, cautiously making her way out of the carrier and sniffing the rug she had been placed down on. Bucky shifted forward, extending his hand out to give her a comforting scratch behind the ears but the quick movement was already too much - and Alpine was off, quickly scurrying away and finding a place to hide underneath Haley’s coffee table.

Bucky sighed.

“Hey,” Haley sat back on her knees and squeezed his shoulder. “Try not to worry, okay? I promise she’s in good hands.”

 ---

“Hey! Sorry, I meant you could call me anytime - it didn’t have to be – are you outside?”

“I just finished a run. Is it a bad time?”

“No, no. Looks nice there!”

“A lot of fresh air and trees. Sam says it’s good for the soul.”

“He’s right. Anyway - here, let me turn my video around. Look! Your daughter’s new favourite place to nap - above my kitchen cabinets.”

“Alpine, you daredevil.”

“I am a tiny bit concerned she’ll try to leap up on the bookcase next.”

“Good thing we anchored those to the walls.”

“She’s been an angel otherwise, minus her late night running. How has your week been though? Relaxing, I hope..”

 ---

Haley (8:05PM): bad news Haley (8:05PM): your daughter may be a future arsonist Bucky (8:09PM): ??? Haley (8:11PM): all I wanted was a nice calm relaxing bath but apparently candles are not kitten proof Haley (8:11PM): I promise she still has all her whiskers Haley (8:15PM): [IMG_3399]

Bucky’s eyes blew wide open as he loaded the photo Haley had sent him. They had been in touch all week as she provided updates about Alpine, which were mostly positive outside of a plant that didn’t survive a fall from Haley’s window ledge.

And Bucky would be lying if he didn’t admit to how much he enjoyed the little updates and check-ins about how his trip was going. He had even sent Haley a selfie of his own, plus a picture of Sam laying on the ground, flipping off Bucky’s camera, after some training had gone awry.

This photo though, of Alpine sitting on the outside of Haley’s bathtub, felt a bit different. Sure, the main focus of the camera was definitely not supposed to be the exposed parts of Haley’s legs in the water, surrounded by soft bubbles and the light coming from candles sitting precariously on the outside ledge. Bucky was supposed to be looking at his little trouble maker of a cat, who was in the middle of extending a paw to swipe the flickering flame from one of the candles.

Yes, he was definitely looking at Alpine and not immediately thinking about Haley’s legs.

“Sarah?” Bucky finally glanced up from his phone, pushing his tongue across his lips as he searched for a second opinion. “I’ve got a real world question for you. About dating and, uh, women.”

One of Bucky’s favourite parts of their evenings in Delacroix was after dinner, when he and Sarah and sometimes Sam, took to the porch. Sometimes they’d chat, other times they’d read in silence together. This time was the latter. 

Bucky looked over from his chair and caught Sarah’s curious eyebrow raise as she put her book down. Bucky was grateful Sam was inside watching a movie with his nephews at that moment.

“Oh, I love these.” Sarah moved slightly in her own seat on the porch swing, adjusting the blanket and folding her hands in her lap. “Go ahead.”

Bucky rubbed his jaw, glanced at his phone one more time then brought his attention back to Sarah. “It’s Haley related.”

Sarah nodded, doing her best to remain neutral although they had talked about Bucky’s friend before. “Sure, Haley - your friend with whom your friendship is completely platonic. Right.”

“She just sent me a photo of Alpine but she was in it too, in her bathtub.”

“In her bathtub?” Sarah repeated, making sure she heard that properly. “Like, in a bath. Naked.”

“Yeah.” When Sarah’s eyebrows went up, Bucky backtracked. “No, not like that. It was just her legs. But does that mean something?”

Sarah let out a long breath, tipping her head from side to side as she thought. “Well, I’m not much for sending photos to any man. Because ya’ll never deserve it. But, I don’t know. Is your conversation ever flirty?”

“I have no idea,” Bucky rolled his eyes, reaching for his phone and scrolling through his conversation with Haley. It was always friendly, if a little sparse on his side of things. Although he would admit that the last week since he’d been gone, they’d talked a lot more. And sometimes late at night. But what made a conversation flirty? The time it occurred? The tone?

“Listen, I don’t know Haley. But she could have probably sent that photo without her legs.. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe she’s testing the waters, to see how you’ll react.”

“And how am I supposed to react?”

“You tell me,” Sarah tipped her head to the side and studied him for another moment. “Are you interested in her that way? Do you have feelings for her?”

He tossed his phone onto the small table beside him and sighed. “I.. I don’t know.” Rediscovering his emotions had been a huge learning curve and it was still an ongoing struggle. Every single part of his being had been suppressed without his consent for decades and even now sometimes Bucky couldn’t tell the difference between what frustration felt like and what rage felt like. His spectrum was nearly impossible to understand on his best days and when he let himself even consider some of his feelings, it was an easy spiral into a lot of very dark thoughts. “I really don’t know.”

“If you were any other person in the world, I wouldn’t believe that for a second.” Sarah reached her hand across to grab one of his, giving him a gentle squeeze. “But I can’t imagine these things are fun to sort through for you. Maybe you just need to sit with it.”

“Haley is..” Bucky shook his head, indulging in the comforting touch from Sarah. “She’s one of my closest friends. That’s, uhm, important to me. Really important.”

Sarah let out a quiet laugh and nodded, squeezing his hand once more before releasing it. “Joel.. my Joel, we were friends first. For a long time before we figured it out. Sit with it, Bucky.”

 ---

Bucky was trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in his stomach when he headed to Haley’s. Given that she hadn’t responded to any of his messages, he assumed she wasn’t home and he’d be letting himself in to retrieve Alpine. 

It was strange - when he left for New Orleans, he hadn’t anticipated so much time to reflect. Despite Sam telling him it was supposed to be a vacation, Bucky hadn’t been prepared for free time with all his thoughts. But now, coming back to the city, he felt he had a changed perspective. His late night discussions with Sarah had been both beneficial and a bit of a hindrance, too.

He was really looking forward to catching up with Haley, though - that he knew for sure.

Using the key she had given him, Bucky let himself into her apartment building and headed upstairs. He checked his phone once more and sent her a quick message that he was letting himself in. He followed up with an additional ‘thank you’ text as he twisted the key into her apartment door.

A strange comfort came over him as he walked into Haley’s home. It felt so familiar in a way and he vowed to let himself unpack just what that meant. As the door shut behind him, he peered around the living room, searching for his cat. 

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Alpine?”

His eyes darted around the room - he had assumed Haley was at work, but seeing her laptop closed on the kitchen island and a leftover cup of tea on the counter, sitting beside her phone, clearly he had assumed incorrectly.

When he spotted Alpine mewling outside the bathroom door, his feeling of comfort quickly switched to something more awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t have just walked in without confirming she was home, especially if she was going to come out of the bathroom and just see him and -

He stopped his train of thoughts. There was no light on in the bathroom. And was that whimpering? It sounded… painful.

“Haley?” He took a step closer towards the door, taking in a sharp breath as he peered inside. “Jesus - Haley!”

He tried not to think the worst and prayed he wasn’t overstepping when it came to her privacy as he rushed towards her. Inside the bathroom, under the broken stream of sunlight coming in from the rest of the apartment, he found Haley curled up on the ground in a pair of leggings and a big sweatshirt. Halfway between her toilet and bathtub, she had a towel folded up under her head and half of a blanket draped over her body. The other part of her comforter was resting inside the bathtub.

“Hales - what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Bucky crouched down, politely encouraging Alpine to stay outside the doorway. As was a given for most New York apartments, the bathroom was cramped. He extended out his hand and placed it gently on Haley’s shin.

“My whole body hurts..” Her voice was barely audible. “I think maybe… there’s this flu going around the office and..” 

He sucked in a breath. “Shit. Okay. Are you throwing up? Is that why you’ve made a bed on the floor here?”

Haley just shrugged in response, eyes closed tight. “I did, once. Tried to wash my comforter, sort of just stayed here..”

Bucky took a very brief moment to pause, dragging his hand across his jaw before taking action. When he considered his scrambled memories of the past, suddenly something came forward that hadn’t crossed his mind in years. 

Steve, his Steve. Curled up in bed, with faulty lungs and an immune system working against him. The same sting took over in his heart as he watched Haley, suffering alone and if he could place a bet, any moment she was going to dismiss him again and -

“Bucky, I’m fine.” He watched as she slowly pushed herself up to sit, leaning her back against the side of her bathtub. “I think I just need to ride this out..”

“Haley,” Bucky shuffled forward, just barely, scanning over her drooping eyelids. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand to press against her forehead. Shit. “You’re burning hot.”

Way too hot.

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated quietly, bringing her hand up to reach for her throat. “Feels sort of like..a knife..”

Okay, Bucky needed to act much more quickly now. “C’mon, maybe we need to go to urgent care or-”

“No, no.” She shook her head, pushing Bucky’s hands away. “I don’t need that.”

“Haley, if your fever is-”

“My deductible is huge. And urgent care is for emergencies.. I’m fine.” Her head lolled to the side and Bucky didn’t hide his baffled laughter.

He sat back on his knees. “How long have you had a fever?”

“Since this morningish.” She shrugged but raised a hand gingerly, motioning to her bathroom counter. “I think it’s getting better..”

Reluctantly Bucky took his eyes off her and sat up enough to see what she was pointing at. On top of her sink sat a scrap of paper, alongside a pen and thermometer. Of course Haley had been diligently tracking her own fever. He sighed, scanning over the numbers she had written down hourly. She never got to a critical temperature but that didn’t make him feel any better about her current state.

“Have you taken anything?” Bucky continued as he rinsed off her thermometer, turning to her again and waiting while she answered.

“Tylenol, a few hours ago. Don’t have any left..”

Bucky nodded then proceeded to urge the thermometer under her tongue, despite her ongoing dismissals that she was okay and he didn’t need to stay. 

He took in another long breath as it beeped, displaying a number that wasn’t any higher than she had written down earlier. He extended his left hand out and brushed it across her forehead, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as she let out a relieved whimper at the cool touch.

“Bucky..” Haley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, or tried to. “You don’t have to do this, okay? I’ll be okay by tomorrow.”

He tried to stop his annoyed huff from escaping but Bucky felt his patience dwindling. “Why are you pushing me away? I’m trying to help.”

She squeaked out a laugh. “I called Alex and he sent me to voicemail. And god, when I called my mom - she told me..” 

“Hales, look at me.”

Haley opened one of her eyes, swallowing hard. “Okay..”

“You’ve gotta let me take care of you. Please. I’m on my knees here, begging. I want to help.”

 ---

Haley felt it coming on all week. The fatigue had crept up slowly, the growing aches throughout her body much quicker. And by that Friday morning, it was as if she had been hit by a freight train.

After her early morning team meeting, her teammate Lindsay had messaged her and immediately told her to log off because Haley ‘looked like shit’. Which, although a bit too aggressive for Haley’s liking, did help her turn her computer off quickly. And then she mostly just slept, hot then cold, cold, cold. She tried to sip on tea but it had been difficult to finish, with her sleepy eyes and sore throat.

Alpine, cute as a button, had stayed by her side the whole time. Haley had appreciated having the feline as company all week and giving Bucky updates had been fun and almost flirty at times, too. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what to do about that and her growing, conflicting feelings so she kept them at bay as much as possible.

She had been fully planning on being at work in the office when Bucky came to collect his fluffy white child, too. Instead, though, she was struggling to stay awake and upright and couldn’t even imagine Bucky seeing her in that state.

And then, well, he went ahead and showed up at her apartment. She couldn’t fault him, of course. He had returned from his New Orleans trip and had every right to come collect his cat, especially because he assumed Haley was going to be at work. She just wished he hadn’t showed up after she had decided to make basecamp in her bathroom while trying to clean up her comforter.

But when Bucky offered to take care of her, Haley thought she’d be overwhelmed with shame and embarrassment. Instead though, a rush of good feelings washed over her instead. Safety, comfort, protection. 

Before she could even keep trying to protest, Bucky had helped her up off the floor and immediately ushered her back to bed. He pulled the soft blankets off her couch and tucked her beneath them, with a cold cloth resting against her forehead.

“I’m going to run to the pharmacy, okay? I’ll be right back.” Bucky left her phone on the side table, urging her to call him if she needed anything. Alpine curled up against Haley’s legs.

“Keep an eye on her, okay Al?” 

Haley dozed off quickly after he departed and it seemed like barely a moment had passed before he was back in her bedroom, stirring her awake with a sea of apologies. He had returned to her with an overflowing bag of supplies, rattling on quietly about all the things the pharmacist had recommended. 

After she swallowed down a few pills and shed a few additional tears choking on a disgusting syrupy formula, Bucky left her to sleep once more, not before replacing her cloth with a refreshing cold compress. 

“Just rest, Hales. You’ll feel better soon, I promise..”

Thankfully, whatever combination Bucky had administered to her had knocked Haley out - and it seemed like her body really needed it. When she finally woke up again, her head did not feel as heavy and swallowing already felt like a much more normal task. As she sat up in bed, she glanced around the room. It was dark - her curtains were still open and the city lights were spilling in. Across the room, the French doors separating her bedroom from the rest of her apartment were cracked open. Her living room lamps were glowing and she could hear some quiet footsteps coming towards her.

Bucky appeared at the door, pushing one side open gently. “Hey - you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Haley nodded, barely. “You.. you stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.” In a few strides he came in and took a cautious seat at the end of her bed. There was a kitchen towel resting on his shoulder. It made Haley’s chest swirl.

“I’m feeling better, I think.” She shrugged, desperately trying to dismiss the rush of domestic thoughts coming to her mind. “I think I have like ten percent of my energy back.”

A slow relieved sigh escaped Bucky’s lips. “I’m happy to hear that. Apparently this flu has been going around and really doing numbers on people, says the pharmacist I talked to earlier at least. They said by around 48 hours you should be –”

“Wait, Bucky. I’m probably contagious - are you okay with that? I might have immediately passed along my germs and..”

“I was cursed with a very good immune system,” he said simply, resting his hand on her leg. “Don’t worry about me.”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “I think I want to try and have a shower.”

Bucky waited and made sure she could get herself out of bed without collapsing then let her continue on her own, though he did awkwardly offer his assistance if she might need it. Haley tried to ignore whatever that might mean, instead just indulging in the warm water and letting the stream drown out the rest of her thoughts.

God, what a week it had been. She wasn’t entirely sure what had flipped the switch in her but it seemed that all of a sudden, Bucky’s presence in her life was causing her heart to stir. If she had to pinpoint the catalyst, she could blame it on Dani, her closest friend from work. Ever since Haley had brought Sam and Bucky out to the bar weeks ago, Dani had been in her ear about Haley’s friendship with Bucky. And when Dani found out they technically met on a weird non-date at the bar, she had even more questions that Haley couldn’t answer.

Bucky was her best friend, was all Haley could insist. And she tried so hard to leave it at that.

Then, well, this whole flu thing had happened and it was mucking everything up. Haley wasn’t mad Bucky was taking care of her - in fact, she was grateful. But it wasn’t making anything clearer for her.

When she got out of the shower and had changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, Haley finally emerged from the bathroom and found Bucky working in her kitchen. He was standing at the stove, singing something quietly to himself as he stirred a pot of - was that soup?

“Sarah sent me her healing chicken soup recipe - apparently it’s a cure for most ailments,” Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t mask his smirk. “If you think you could eat something.”

“I could try,” Haley nodded, sliding into one of the stools at her small island. She sipped the warm broth mostly, indulging in the fresh ginger taste and feeling almost excited that her appetite was slowly returning. 

Bucky leaned forward across from her, studying her before pressing a palm against her forehead. “I think maybe your fever broke.”

Haley smirked. “See? I told you I’d be okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Finish your soup, Fisher.”

---

After they ate, Bucky suggested watching a movie but Haley argued she wouldn’t be able to focus. She still felt tired but was fighting it off. Instead, they just set up camp on the couch. 

Alpine perched at the window between the bookcases, watching the world below. Bucky retrieved Haley’s now clean comforter from the dryer down the hall and returned the other blankets to the couch, then dropped onto it.

It happened so organically - the way Haley grabbed the closest pillow from the couch and placed it against Bucky’s hip, laying down and resting her head in his lap as she pulled a blanket over her body. Bucky didn’t question it. And when he adjusted his arm, reaching out to rest it against her side then moving up to run his fingers through her hair, there was no protest from Haley.

Haley relaxed. Bucky settled. 

They sat together, quiet. Eventually, Bucky picked up the book he had been reading and used one hand to prop it open and flip through the pages while Haley rested.

When her breathing picked up and he heard a quiet sniffle, Bucky stilled. “Hales?”

“I called my mom earlier. Because when you’re sick, you just want someone to help, right? I figured my mom would.. I know she doesn’t live here but god forbid she tries and offers me comfort. Do you know what she told me?” Haley choked out a laugh, pressing herself further against Bucky. “She said to look on the bright side, because the last time she had a stomach bug she lost eight and a half pounds.” 

Bucky’s hand clamped around the book as he took in a sharp breath. “Haley, I’ve gotta say it - your mom sounds really unpleasant.”

Haley reached her arm up and clutched onto Bucky’s leg. “Yeah, that’s a fair descriptor. Her idea of what makes someone valuable though.. I don’t know, it’s pretty broken. I know she loves me but sometimes it feels like she’d like me more if I was.. less.” 

Bucky moved his hand from the crown of Haley’s head to rub her back. “You don’t deserve that.” The longer it took Haley to reply, the more anxious Bucky grew. And then, he felt her let out a long breath.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

Bucky let his hand draw circles and shapes against Haley’s back until she fell asleep on him, although he worried she’d wake up with a kink in her neck. Selfishly, he didn’t want to encourage her back to bed - because he liked the warmth of her presence, of her body at his side. 

It was dangerous territory - the way an unexpected sense of intimacy had taken over their moment. But Bucky was putting into practice what Sarah had suggested, sitting with his feelings, trying to figure them out. 

He had an answer now to Sarah’s big question. Did he have feelings for Haley? Yes. But what made it even worse is that he had no fucking clue what to do about it.

---

thank you again for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts if you enjoyed this chapter. up next: adventures in online dating, again.

[madjackbrock]

Jack and Garg x Mortao and Hitomi. No humiliation or dominance, just obsessive, destructive lust from both parties.

Japan had withstood many, many giant monster attacks in the past, and always come back stronger than ever. This one might be the last, however…

Garg scratched his massive, hairy gut lazily as he stomped over and through the skyscrapers around Kyoto, finishing off those his footfalls missed with the sensual swaying of his impossibly wide ass. It had been minutes since he’d devoured a fleeing crowd, so he was already feeling hungry again. But snacking could wait; he had another MASSIVE hunger he needed to feed.

Fortunately, while it was a bit hard to use Google Maps when one was the size of a municipality, once you actually got it running, the aerial view of your destination was surprisingly helpful for a terrifying giant. It didn’t take long to spot the correct apartment building…which he took to mean that none of these other buildings, or their inhabitants, were still necessary.

Good. He could still snack on the way.

She didn’t know it yet, but Hitomi Tanaka was the object of his search; as she didn’t know this, she was morally correct in panicking along with the rest of the city. That fat giant was heading right towards her apartment, and she could swear he was looking into her window! She had enough pervs to deal with at normal scale; she didn’t need one that could rip apart the city to find her!

Granted, when the giant reaches below his oozing gut and started to pump his shaft, itself almost as wide as her building…she did have to give a nod of approval.

Impressed as she was, she still screamed when he easily ripped the top several floors off of her building, leering in at her as she cowered in her bedroom. His free hand reached in for her, some sort of bottle pinched between its fingertips. She screamed again, but the bottle forced its way between her lips and…

Oh. Oh, fuck. This…felt…

Good!

She moaned and writhed as her body grew and fattened, finally becoming a match for her world-famous tits before expanding far, far beyond. The remains of her building collapsed under her gigantic ass as she continued to grow, finally becoming a match for the masculine mountain in front of her.

“I’m…I’m fat! I’m…so…huge!”

Garg licked his lips in appreciation. “And we’re only gonna get bigger and fatter,” he purred. “You like it?”

She gave another long, lewd glance at his erect shaft, before nodding. “I like it a lot, my big sexy man…”

At her new scale, it was actually possible to ignore the second obese giant running (for a certain value of “running”) up to them until he was already upon them, panting and trying to remain calm. “Garg! Garg, we-“

Garg rolled his eyes at Jack. “Calm down! It worked, and she’s into it!”

Jack nodded quickly, temporarily distracted by ALL of Hitomi, before an ominous rumble broke his trance.

“Yeah, well, I found Mortao, and did the same thing! Except she’s REALLY into it…and it REALLY worked!”

Before Garg could ask what that meant, the three gargantuan gluttons were cast into shadow.

An unfathomably huge Mortao Maotor, having shed her lithe frame for an even fatter physique than the three smaller giants at her feet, loomed over them. Her famously photogenic feet, formerly large and slender, were still large…but now practically flattened with fat, merging into unstoppable cankles as she placed her hands on her obscenely wide hips and laughed at their cowering.

“Oh, good! More toys! Pucker up! You’re all gonna kiss and lick the biggest set of booty soles in the world!”

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Lady, Revealed of Cloak

Young Papa Nihil is to take part in a significant and important sex ritual with Sister Imperator...but he has no idea what's really in store for him.

(Inspired by a conversation with Ryu)

(Also readable on AO3)

  Nihil fiddled with the strings of his (ironically) pure white ritual cloak. Though he'd been Papa for a good few years now, he was still nervous.

Hell, he wasn't even supposed to be Papa, that had been his older brother's job. Until he died, that is. Then the church had sent Sister Imperator to seek him out, as the last direct heir to the bloodline. That had changed and sealed his fate.

And, tonight, he had a feeling that his fate was about change yet again.

Tonight was a sex ritual, a private black mass to celebrate the Old One. Which wouldn't make him nervous, normally (he was quite used to sex and rituals involving it), but...it had been impressed upon him by Sister Imperator that this one would be very important. Very significant.

No pressure.

  A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He wiped his clammy hands on his cloak and cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

"It's time, Papa." Sister Imperator's voice, even on the other side of a door, calmed his nerves instantly.

The weight slid off his shoulders as he opened the door, holding his head high as Imperator led him down the darkened hallway to the room where this significant, important, sex ritual was to be held.

  The room was beautiful, lit entirely by candles of varying sizes and colours and scents. And gloriously empty of everyone except Nihil and Sister Imperator. Good. Though he usually liked having an audience, he was glad that this time would be different—the privacy allowed him to relax a bit, some of the pressure slipping away, and now replaced with excitement.

Excitement which grew as Imperator took off her own (stark black) ritual cloak, revealing her beautiful body. No matter how many times Nihil had seen it (and, as her lover, he'd seen it many times), he never stopped being breathtaken by her.

  He was shaken from his thoughts by his lover clearing her throat.

"Shall we begin, Papa?"

"Yes!" Nihil replied, just a little too eagerly, as he shed his cloak. "Let's begin, Sister." He hopped up onto the stone altar bed, laying back and running a hand through his jet black hair in a way that (he assumed) was sexy.

Sister Imperator smiled at him as she released her long blonde hair from its ponytail, and sauntered up to the altar.

"I hope you're ready for this, Papa," she breathed, sounding almost as excited as he was. "I've been waiting for this night for a long time."

"I'm ready, Sister." He wondered just what was so special about tonight. She'd hadn't given him any actual details about it, just some vague explanations of its supposed significance. Oh well, he didn't mind. He was Papa, and a ritual was a ritual. It was his job to do it, whatever it entailed. (And with a beauty like Sister Imperator involved? Well, that was the only detail he needed, really.)

Anyway, whatever questions he might have had still lingering in the back of his mind were now entirely forgotten, pushed completely aside to make room for the very pleasing visual of a naked Sister Imperator climbing up onto the altar bed and straddling him. The feeling of her body on his, and the coquettish expression on her face caused his breath to catch in his throat, as his cock twitched to life.

He ran his hands up and down her body, revelling in how soft her skin was. "Sister," he said, swallowing thickly, "I am so excited to do this ritual with you."

She giggled. "So am I, Papa." And with that, she dove down and captured Nihil's lips in a deep kiss, tongue entangling with his, her hands roaming his naked body and exciting him even further.

Nihil groaned and kneaded her ass, squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples, and slid his fingers between her thighs, teasing her and eliciting a delicious moan from her.

After a little more fooling around, Sister Imperator had apparently had enough teasing, and grabbed Nihil's hands, pinning him down. With a smirk, she mounted him, sliding onto his shaft with a soft, sultry gasp, and a fluttering of her eyelids.

This, combined with the heady scents from the candles, and the general ritual excitement, left him feeling intoxicated, utterly unbothered by laying atop a cold, uncomfortable, stone altar. Hell, with an atmosphere like this, with a woman like this...he could have been on a bed of sharp, pointed nails and he wouldn't have cared.

There was nothing but arousal, nothing but pleasure. Nothing but him and Sister Imperator.

  Or so he thought.

In the throes of passion, Nihil hadn't noticed that his partner, his lover...had begun to change.

He'd been so preoccupied with the feeling of Imperator's hot, wet core sliding up and down his throbbing shaft, so entranced with the feeling of her riding him...well, that was all he noticed. His head was thrown back in bliss, his eyes shut as he gave himself over to absolute pleasure...he barely even noticed his skull paint trickling down his face along with rivulets of sweat.

The sheer bliss of having hot ritual sex with Sister Imperator had rendered him oblivious to the form she was now in. A form very much unlike the one he was used to seeing.

A breathy "Oh, Papa..." caused him to open his eyes...and see just how his lover had changed, mid-fuck.

"W-wha—?" he rasped, blinking a few times, trying to focus. He shook his head a couple of times, waiting for the image of Imperator above him to go back to normal. Except it didn't. She didn't.

"S...sister?"

Who—or rather, what—stared down at him now was not the Sister Imperator he knew. This...version of her, had blood red skin, large horns sprouting from her head, and cloven hooves. Oh fuck.

"Papa," she breathed, looking down at him with glowing gold eyes, "I'm so happy you agreed to do this ritual tonight." She tightened her grip on his wrists, black talons digging into his skin. "I couldn't wait any longer." She chuckled, a deep, raspy, smouldering noise that sent a chill down Nihil's spine.

"I...Sister...you..." the words caught in Nihil's throat, fear (and, somehow, lingering arousal) causing his brain to short-circuit.

"Papa...Nihil." Sister Imperator—or, whoever, or whatever she was—leaned down and nuzzled his cheek, hot breath tickling his ear as she spoke. "I just knew you'd be perfect for this."

"For...for what?" Nihil barely managed to choke out the words. He was now having reservations about the ritual...though it was clearly far too late to back out now.

Imperator licked at his earlobe with a forked(?) tongue. "For a sacrifice, of course."

A sacrifice. Nihil gulped. Oh, shit.

Suddenly, it all began to click, in his head. The scents of the candles, the arousal, and now even the fear were momentarily pushed aside for a short, brief burst of clarity—Sister Imperator had been the Dark One all along.

This ritual—this sacrifice—was for her.

He didn't see that coming.

But then again, how fitting—he was Papa, after all. Of course she'd choose him to make the ultimate sacrifice. Who else would ever be worthy enough?

  Gasping for what would inevitably end up being his last breath, Nihil smiled up at his Dark Lord (or Dark Lady?), trembling with fear, anticipation, and—even still—arousal and excitement.

"It's an honour, Domina Satana."

The last thing he saw, before total blackness and hellfire, was Sister Imperator's—his Dark Lady's—beautiful, evil smile, saliva dripping from sharp, pointed teeth.

What a way to go.

[theapprenticeofthanatos]

TAoT: Chapter 24: Ultimate Enemy: Part 4

Dan POV:

Dan took a deep breath as he finally left Samantha’s house. Gods, that had been miserable. Sam and Tucker were far more irritating than he remembered. It had taken an amount of patience he didn’t know he possessed to grit his teeth and bare it—to smile and laugh at their stupid jokes and participate in their pointless games.

They had questioned him a few more times about his younger self’s strange transformation, and Dan had found it increasingly difficult to deflect their inquiries, since he knew no more about it than they did. He was fairly certain they were beginning to grow suspicious of him, but that didn’t matter. As long as they showed up at the Nasty Burger when it was time…

That reminded him; there was someone he needed to talk to.

Dan took a sharp turn as he walked down the street, slipping into one of the dark alleyways. He kept his pace as he strolled straight into the shadows at the end of the alleyway, and emerged in a thicket of trees. He had shadow-traveled deep into the woods surrounding Lake Eerie—he didn’t want to risk any interruptions.

A quick scan of the surrounding area revealed that there were no mortals in the vicinity, nor were there any monsters; Dan had likely scared them off with his aura. And that was just fine by him. He didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do.

Dan shed his human guise and took off flying over the surface of the lake, towards the rocky cliffs on the far shore. He came to a stop about twenty feet away, still hovering over the water as he raised his arms above his head and began to chant. It wasn’t English or Greek—it wasn’t any language spoken by mortals, for that matter. A human probably couldn’t even recreate the sounds. The nature around Dan—which was already unnaturally quiet—grew deathly silent, as if all the creatures around him somehow knew that the spoken language was one of ancient magic. One of danger.

And they knew to be afraid.

When Dan stopped chanting, nothing happened… at first. The wind had died and the leaves in the trees had grown still. There was no more rustling in the grass or forest undergrowth. Even the ripples on the water had dispersed, leaving the lake a perfect mirror.

Dan waited patiently. He hadn’t contacted Gaea in this way in quite some time, but he was confident that she would answer.

She was the one who had taught him the chant, after all.

A faint rumble—so quiet that Dan barely caught it—began to reverberate from the earth all around him. The air was suddenly filled with caws and loud twittering as swarms of birds took to the sky, flying far away from Dan and the lake as the rumble grew stronger. The cliffside began to shake right before Dan’s eyes, and he watched as the solid stone shifted as if it were made of melted butter, layers of rock and dirt pouring over themselves to form a face in the crag.

After a few moments, a feminine face formed from the minerals. Closed eyelids and relaxed lips were carved from the stone, looking almost human in appearance except for their texture and size; her nose alone was at least twice the size of Dan’s entire body. The earth goddess was deep in slumber, but Dan knew that he had her attention.

:Greetings, Mother Earth.: Dan bowed his head. :I am at your service.:

Gaea’s brow furrowed slightly, as if she were having a bad dream. Deep vibrations rose from the earth around Dan, and a lulling voice speaking slow words filled his mind; he had forgotten how drowsy Gaea had been when he had first met her. Her lips didn’t move as she spoke, but Dan knew it was Gaea speaking to him—he knew her voice.

“Oh… it’s you.”

Dan… hadn’t been expecting a response like that. He wasn’t sure what exactly he should have been expecting, but… he had thought that Gaea would be at least a little intrigued by someone summoning her using the long forgotten ancient tongue.

But she seemed more annoyed than anything else.

“Uhh… yeah, it’s… me.” Dan suddenly felt rather unsure of himself—a way he hadn’t felt in years—and he started to rub the back of his neck before quickly pulling his hand away. He didn’t do that anymore—he didn’t falter anymore. He instead cleared his throat. “I offer you my aid, Mother Earth. I will assist you in bringing down the gods and returning your children to their rightful thrones.”

He expected Gaea to be pleased. To praise him for his willingness to serve her. He thought she would at least smile.

Instead, she frowned, her face settling into an unimpressed scowl as she spoke. “Your aid is not needed.”

Dan really hadn’t been expecting that. “Excuse me?” He chuckled, but there was no humor to his tone. “I’m sorry, I… must have misheard you. I thought you said that you didn’t… need my help.”

“You heard me correctly,” Gaea confirmed curtly.

“But…” Dan was stunned. Gaea doesn’t need… me? He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. No, that can’t be right. Gaea always said that… I was important to her. She promised that she would never leave me. Not like they did. So why now would she…? “The gods… a-and your children, the Titans and the Giants, they—you need my help to free them. You need my help to strike down the gods! To kill them!”

Gaea hummed pleasantly, but to Dan her voice was almost patronizing. “It is true that I need help, but let me put it this way instead. Your help is not wanted.”

“B-but, wait—you can’t—you can’t do that!” Dan argued, his tone full of disbelief. She needed him. She had told him so years ago, back when he had first met her. It was his duty to bring down the gods—it was his right. After what his… what they had done to him, he deserved to bring them to their knees. To hurt them—to hurt him—and cause even a fraction of the suffering they had caused Dan.

Just like he had before.

“Why?” Dan finally asked, his voice low and full of barely restrained rage. “You know that I am strong. I could—”

“I need not explain myself to you,” Gaea snapped, cutting him off. “But if you must know, it was your own actions that swayed my decision.”

“What?” Dan scoffed incredulously. “What have I done?”

“You know what you have done,” Gaea criticized, her tone accusatory as her face settled into a faint grimace. “You are not from this time. From this reality. And your meddling has interfered with my plans. Your younger self has seen what he becomes under my influence, and has decided that is not what he wants to be. That you are not who he wants to become.”

Anger boiled beneath Dan’s skin, threatening to burst out of him in an uncontrollable wave of rage and hurt and… sadness. But Dan was quick to force those feelings down; he needed to remain calm right now. He needed to remain in control. Dan took a second to steady his breathing. In, two, three, four…

“Gaea, please.” Bile rose in his throat at the utterance of that word—he never said ‘please.’ “I need to see my father—my parents brought down. I need to make them feel the hurt that they caused me. I need—”

“You do not need anything. Your anger blinds you and makes you a liability.” Gaea admonished. “You will not have your vengeance through me.”

Dan stared uncomprehendingly at the protogenos. She had said… no? She couldn’t say no, she had never told him no before.

Dan growled as he glared at her. This wasn’t fair. Didn’t Gaea understand the pain he’d been through? Did she not care that—

“Aww, what’s the matter, :little death:?” Gaea teased, cutting off Dan’s train of thought. “Are you upset?”

Dan had always hated that nickname, but now it was especially infuriating. She was mocking him. Treating him like a child. Flames burst to life in his palms and his eyes flashed red as he snarled at the goddess.

Gaea laughed. “What are you going to do now, :little death:? Are you going to fight me?” An earthquake shook the forest, causing trees to shudder and pebbles to clatter as the goddess chortled.

Dan clenched his fists and grit his teeth, biting back another growl. He was furious, but he wasn’t stupid. Threatening Gaea would be a death sentence, and it would do him no good. His gaze fell to the water below as Gaea’s laughter faded.

“Do not summon me again,” she warned, all the humor in her voice replaced by a cold seriousness. “I will not answer.”

The loud rumbling and grinding of rocks filled the air as the cliffside shifted and settled back into its original state. Within mere moments, it was as if Gaea were never there.

Dan’s shoulders shook as he grit his teeth, until the bitterly sweet taste of ectoplasm filled his mouth. His hands flew up to pull at his flaming hair as he let out a frustrated scream.

How could Gaea treat him like… like a child? After everything he had done for her—would do for her all over again, if she would let him—how could she just… leave him, just like everyone else in his lives? His mother, his father, his mortal parents, his sister, his friends…

Everyone.

Dan turned away from the cliff, balling his hands into fists as he screamed again, causing the lake below him to undulate and the trees to rustle from the strength of his voice. Green fire flared to life in his fists.

The trees swayed in the distance, the shaking of their leaves sounding like taunting snickers and giggles.

Gaea was laughing at him.

Dan snarled, green flames flaring to life in his fists. He threw a fireball at the forest, before his rage overtook him and he began to hurl fireball after fireball into the dense thicket of trees, instantly setting them aflame. How dare she mock him? How dare she treat him like a child?

Dan paused and took in the scene in front of him. Not a single section of the shore had been left unburnt, and the ghostly green fire was quickly spreading throughout the forest.

I am not a child. Dan glared at the blazing forest fire below him, rage filling every fiber of his being. I’ll show her that I don’t need her. I can do this all on my own.

He turned and glared at the cliff. Eerie green firelight danced across the rocky face, making it appear as though Gaea had returned. But Dan knew she hadn’t; he couldn’t feel her presence anymore. She had abandoned him.

Just like everyone else he had ever known.

Fueled by his anger at Gaea’s betrayal, Dan screamed at the cliffside, unleashing his Ghostly Wail. Huge chunks of rock broke free and crashed into the water below as massive cracks formed on the cliff’s surface. Clouds of dust billowed out from the rock face, settling onto the surface of the lake and the surrounding earth as the mountainside crumbled before Dan’s eyes.

After a few long seconds, Dan finally stopped wailing at the cliff. His vision was blurry from the dust in the air, and he blinked to clear it as he brought his hand up to wipe at his eyes. But as his fingers touched his face, Dan was surprised to find that his cheek was wet. With tears.

He was crying.

Dan growled and wiped furiously at his face. No. He was not crying. He did not cry. Crying was for weak people—weak people like pitiful mortals and spineless gods. And Dan was not weak.

Not anymore.

Dan was not in a good mood when he finally made it to FentonWorks. He phased through the window of his old bedroom, landing on the rug with a frustrated huff. Seeing that his bedroom door was wide open, he stormed over and slammed it shut hard enough to rattle the frame. He was sick and tired of dealing with people—mortal or otherwise—for the time being; he wanted some privacy while he got to work.

Dan knew that his past self likely wouldn’t be willing to assist him in his quest, but that was fine. Dan could handle it all on his own, and floating through the wasteland of the Ghost Zone would give his younger self plenty of time to come around to Dan’s way of thinking.

But Dan had to be careful until then. Since this was his past, the Ophiotaurus hadn’t been sacrificed just yet, which meant the gods were still unkillable for the time being. And he couldn’t risk running into his younger self’s mentor before he sacrificed the animal. The god would never be fooled by Dan’s disguise, and he would ruin all of the fun that Dan had planned.

Dan could think about all of that later. First, he needed to find the CAT booklet. This version of his past was a bit different than how he remembered it playing out, but he was sure the answer booklet had still been taken. After all, it was the turning point that had set his future in stone and made him into who he was now. Why else would Clockwork have interfered? Once his mortal family was out of the way, Dan would hunt down the Ophiotaurus. Gaea had led him to the creature previously, but Dan was sure that, given some time, he could find it on his own. He was nothing if not persistent.

And once that was done, Dan would take his revenge a second time. He had already ‘taken care of’ Thanatos once before, but that was only after killing a good portion of the chthonic pantheon (and some of the Olympians, as well). He hadn’t been able to kill Thanatos, obviously—you couldn’t kill Death, after all—but what he had done was good enough.

And he couldn’t wait to do it again.

But that would all need to wait for the time being. Dan still needed to find the booklet, which was most likely in his backpack.

Dan looked disdainfully around the room. Dirty clothes were peeking out of the closet, the bed was a mess, and the desk had literally been destroyed. Where was his backpack?

He started towards the closet, but just then the bedroom door opened. Jazz stood on the threshold, holding a backpack—his backpack—and a boomerang. She tossed the device into the air, and it immediately fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Dan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He ignored the faint stirring of melancholy in his core as he scowled at his older sister. “What do you want, Jazz? I’m busy.”

Confusion flickered across Jazz’s face as she glanced down at the boomerang before stepping into the room. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Dan crossed his arms. “About what?”

Jazz sighed and rummaged around in the backpack. Walking closer, she pulled out the CAT answers. “About these.”

Dan growled and snatched both the bag and the answer booklet out of Jazz’s hands. “What about ‘em?” Dan ground out, stuffing the booklet back into his backpack.

Jazz’s eyes widened, surprise written across her face. “Danny, what’s gotten into you? You’re not usually like this.”

“Like you would know,” Dan bit out.

Jazz’s surprised look became a frown as she folded her arms. “Seriously, what’s with you today? You’re acting odd.”

“… what?” Dan gave an awkward chuckle as he tried to calm himself. He was getting out of character, and Jazz was growing suspicious. “I’m acting like a teen, aren’t I? I… was just hanging out with Sam and Tuck. Playing games and… stuff.”

It was obvious that Jazz didn’t believe a word Dan had said as she looked at him dubiously. “Oh, really? Because I called Sam to see where you were, and she said that you left her place hours ago.”

Dan froze, before his scowl returned full force. What, his friends couldn’t be bothered to cover for him? Of course, it had been ten years since Dan last saw any of his old acquaintances—he didn’t remember how he used to interact with them. Maybe they had noticed something was off.

Whatever. He wouldn’t let them screw up his plans. They could believe whatever they wanted as long as they showed up at the Nasty Burger tomorrow.

“Danny,” Jazz sighed, drawing Dan from his thoughts. Her expression had changed yet again, from irritation to concern. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Dan’s core murmured nervously in his chest. “What… are you talking about?” What did she mean, ‘did something happen’? What would she know about anything that had been going on in his life back when… when this all happened the first time around? And she couldn’t be referring to his talk with Gaea. There was no way she could know about—

“Like, with Thanatos?” Jazz clarified. She didn’t notice the immediate change in Dan’s mood as she continued to talk. “Is it your training sessions? If you’re worried about your training interfering with the exam tomorrow, I’m sure Thanatos wouldn’t mind if you took the day off—”

“How do you know about all of this?”

Jazz paused, clearly surprised by Dan’s interruption. She gave him a puzzled look, but her eyes quickly widened in fear as Dan’s facade began to deteriorate. Green smoke rose from his clenched fists and his shoulders trembled as his glowing red eyes bore into Jazz’s shocked gaze. Jazz gasped in surprise and took a step back.

Dan opened his mouth to repeat himself, but faltered as his own shock briefly overtook his anger. Jazz knew. Jazz had known about his secret, all the way back when… And she knew about the Greek stuff as well? How…?

“Wait, you’re…” Jazz took another step back, her voice shaky as she finally realized that Dan was not the little brother that she knew. “You’re not Danny! That’s why the Boo-merang wasn’t homing in on your ecto-signature. You’re not Danny!”

“No,” Dan chuckled darkly as he changed his appearance, returning to his true form. “No, I am not. Not anymore.”

“W-where’s my brother, you monster?!” Jazz put on a brave face, but Dan knew she was afraid. He could practically taste it.

Dan shrugged carelessly. “Floating aimlessly somewhere in the Ghost Zone, ten years from now.” But as he said those words, a flicker of doubt began to nag at him from the back of his mind.

He had tried not to let it bother him, but why was this past so different from his own? It was his past, wasn’t it? But he had never been an apprentice. And he didn’t have his old form anymore—or his laurels, for that matter. His laurels had burnt up back when he killed his mother.

The second time.

Shut up.

And Dan hadn’t encountered any of the gods until after his mortal family had died. And with Gaea now refusing his help…

What does it matter if things happen a bit differently this time around? Dan thought decisively. I’m sure the aftermath will be the same.

Jazz moved, startling Dan from his thoughts as she made a run for the door. Dan moved with inhuman speed, grabbing Jazz by her hair and yanking her back into the room. Jazz opened her mouth to scream, but Dan was quick to clamp his hand over her mouth, his other hand coming up to wrap around her throat. Not enough to choke her—just enough to give a clear warning.

“What, were you going to call for help?” Dan scoffed, amused by the mortal’s feeble attempts. “There’s no point in trying. Once you all are gone and I hunt down the Ophiotaurus, no one will be able to stop me.”

Jazz squirmed in Dan’s grasp, and he rolled his eyes as he pulled his hand away from her mouth. They both knew that with his other hand still around her throat, it would be a very bad idea for her to try anything.

Jazz glared fiercely up at Dan. “My brother will come back,” she hissed. “He’ll beat you back into the hole you crawled out of.”

“How?” Dan smirked. “He’s not going anywhere with a time medallion lodged in his chest.”

Jazz’s bravado faltered, giving way to uncertainty as she scrambled for an answer. “T-the ghost portal!” She stammered. “He could—”

“Destroyed it years ago,” Dan cut her off smoothly. “There’s no way back here, unless he wants to waste his afterlife finding his way back through the Ghost Zone.”

Jazz seemed to be growing more desperate with every second. “S-someone could help him!”

Oh, she was just grasping at straws by this point.

“Who?” Dan cackled, amused by the poor girl’s antics. “I’ve killed everyone who stood in my way. The only one left is that idiot cheesehead, and when I find him…” Dan grinned wickedly as he dragged his finger across his throat.

Jazz paled at Dan’s insinuation. “Cheesehead?” She echoed. Dan could practically see the gears turning in her head as her expression turned to one of realization. “Vlad—”

“You know, I’ve grown rather tired of this conversation.” Dan’s grip on Jazz’s throat tightened, cutting off her airflow. “I’ve got things to do, you know. Old friends to see and kill.” Dan grinned as Jazz gasped for air, her hands scratching futilely at his forearm. “I’m sure you understand.”

Jazz (obviously) didn’t respond, her face turning from red to purple as she struggled. Dan wondered what he should do with her. He could just reap her soul, like he had done with Valerie. But…

Dan glowered as that stupid human feeling flickered in his core again. What did it matter if he killed her now, rather than later? Why didn’t he just get a head start?

… because he… didn’t feel like it. Besides, killing her now would definitely affect how tomorrow turned out. If Jack and Maddie found her corpse, then Dan cheating on the CAT would be the last thing on their minds. Killing her now would interfere with everyone showing up at the Nasty Burger tomorrow for their “grand finale.”

He would spare her for now.

Jazz finally stopped fighting, her body going limp as her eyes rolled back and her face went slack. She wasn’t dead—just unconscious.

Dan turned invisible as he phased through his bedroom door and into Jazz’s room. He dropped her lifeless form onto the bed and threw a blanket over her before turning to leave. Dan donned his disguise again as he reached the door and glanced back at his sister. He faltered for a moment, and then spoke, his voice just low enough that only he could hear.

“Goodbye.”

.

Jazz POV:

Jazz was running. Running as fast as her legs could carry her. Running away from the monster that had replaced her baby brother. Her foot caught on the earth below her, sending her tumbling to the ground. His bone chilling laughter echoed all around her, as claws dripping in blood came slashing down…

“NOOOOO!!!” Jazz bolted upright from her bed, cold sweat running down her back. She looked wildly around her room, confusion filling her mind once she realized that she was not about to be murdered. She let out a hiss of pain as she brought her hands to her throbbing temples. Her head felt like it was pulsing, each throb making her vision blur. She had a terrible migraine. What…

What had happened to her?

Jazz jumped as her door slammed open. She turned to see her father standing in the doorway, the Boo-merang held like a weapon in his hand.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” Jack asked, his gaze darting around the room, searching for any signs of danger.

“Uhh… I’m…” Jazz glanced down at herself, surprised to find that she was still in one piece. “I’m still alive?”

Jazz’s mother, Maddie, entered the room, somewhat violently shoving Jack out of the way as she came to the side of Jazz’s bed. “Well, of course you’re alive, sweetie!” Maddie chuckled lightly, as if she were amused by Jazz’s question. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I…” Jazz sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Had it all been a dream? “I thought that—”

Maddie gasped. Before Jazz could react, her mother leaned over and brushed Jazz’s hair away from her neck.

“Jazz?” Maddie’s voice was full of concern. “What happened?”

“Wha…?” What was her mom talking about? Nothing had happened… right? It had all been a dream, hadn’t it? Jazz glanced over at her bedroom mirror, and froze at the image that greeted her.

Her neck was covered in bruises. A clear hand mark wrapped around her throat, purple and yellow against her pale skin. A shiver ran down her spine as cold reality washed over her. It hadn’t been a dream. That ghost…

He was real.

Maddie stepped to the side as Jack came over, and a stormy look passed over Jack’s face when he saw the bruises. He knelt down next to Jazz and placed a hand over hers. “Jazzy, who did this to you? When I get my hands on them—”

“No, no!” Jazz said frantically, cutting him off. “I’m fine, I—” Her voice caught in her throat, and Jazz pulled her hand away from her dad as she was overcome by a coughing fit. Her voice was hoarse and sounded raw to her ears as it scratched against the sides of her windpipe. She brought her hands up to rub at her sore neck, and her dad gently patted her on the back until her coughing subsided.

“Jasmine.” Maddie folded her arms as she spoke sternly. “You are clearly not fine. I would appreciate the truth, young lady.”

Jazz looked away. What could she tell them? ‘Danny’s evil future self came back to our time and is planning to kill us all!’

Yeah, no. She would have to leave out a few details.

Jazz sighed tiredly. “I, uhh, was talking with Danny last night, and I was… getting ready for bed afterwards when… this ghost suddenly appeared and tried to strangle me! I managed to fight it off and, uhh, went to bed afterwards?”

She glanced nervously between her parents, hoping that they would believe her lie. Maddie looked a bit doubtful, but the mention of a malevolent ghost had certainly caught her attention. Jack looked downright furious, his fists clenched as he stood up and stormed out of the room.

“When I find that ghost, it’ll wish it was never born!” He declared, and then paused. “Or, uhh, whatever ghosts are.”

Maddie sighed at Jack’s antics, before giving Jazz a worried frown. “You seem to be alright… But do you want one of us to stay with you just in case?”

Jazz shook her head fervently, wincing at the pain that it brought. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, sweetie. Make sure you take some pain relievers, alright?” Maddie placed a kiss on Jazz’s forehead before moving to leave the room. “Stay home today. Your dad and I will activate the ghost shield before we go and hunt down that ghost. We can’t leave any hostile spirits roaming the streets.” Maddie paused in the doorway, bringing her hand to her chin in thought. “Do you think we should go and pull your brother out of school?”

“No!” Jazz said quickly; she didn’t want that ghost to hurt her parents, too. Or worse… “H-he’s fine. Besides, he has the CAT today. You know, the test that decides his entire future?”

Maddie pursed her lips as she thought for a moment longer. “Well, alright. But you better text Danny and tell him to come straight home after school.”

Jazz nodded eagerly, ignoring the pain that it caused her, and waited until her mother had left the room to let out a sigh of despair. She couldn’t let her parents get hurt trying to fight Evil Danny (that was the name she had decided to call the ghost) on their own. She needed to figure out a plan first. But how could she possibly help? The ghost had rendered her unconscious in a mere minute. If only Danny were here…

But how could he possibly get back home? She didn’t know what Evil Danny had been referring to when he mentioned “time medallions,” but it sounded like her Danny was a bit stuck wherever he was ten years ahead of her. And with no known ghost portals to and from the future, there was practically no way for him to get back, unless there was someone there who could help him…

Jazz paused as a part of her conversation with Evil Danny came back to her: “The only one left is that idiot cheesehead…”

Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for Danny to get back home.

.

By the time Jazz had made it downstairs, her parents were long gone. So she got straight to work. Her first order of business was to call Sam and Tucker. She pulled out her phone and went to Sam’s contact, ignoring the slight shaking of her hands as she pressed the call button.

Sam picked up on the second ring, yet Jazz was quite surprised to hear Tucker’s voice instead on the other end.

“Tucker Foley’s Dating Service. How may I—”

Jazz heard a smack and a yelp before Sam’s voice came over the line. “Sorry ‘bout that, Jazz. Did you need something?”

“Oh, uhh, hi Sam. Are… you and Tucker alone?” Jazz asked hesitantly. Please don’t let Evil Danny be there, please don’t let—

“I mean, we’re in the school cafeteria, but there’s no one close by. We’re waiting for Danny.”

Jazz breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Put me on speaker. I need to talk to both of you.”

There was a brief moment of rustling and static from the other end, and then Sam spoke again. “‘Kay, you’re on speaker.”

Jazz took a deep breath before telling Sam and Tucker what she had discovered. “Danny’s not Danny. He’s been—”

“Replaced?” Sam guessed. “Yeah, we figured.”

Jazz’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “How—?”

Tucker spoke next. “Danny’s our best friend. Of course we’d notice if he was acting weird—”

“Well, I noticed,” Sam interjected. “And had to keep this idiot from getting himself killed. Multiple times.”

“Hey, in my defense, those red eyes were kind of hard to notice,” Tucker defended.

“But the forced look on his face wasn’t,” Sam countered. “He clearly didn’t want to hang out with us. I wonder if he was trying to fit in?”

“Well, he failed at that,” Tucker remarked bluntly. “He absolutely sucked at Doomed. Danny’s been playing that game for ages! It was like watching a toddler try to play!”

“It was like watching someone do a bad impression of him,” Sam agreed. “And we have a pretty good idea of who it was.”

“Evil Future Danny?” Jazz guessed.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds.

“How did—?” Sam began.

Jazz cut her off. “It’s a long story. Look, just…” She winced, taking a moment to rub at her sore throat. “Don’t confront him. He’s dangerous.”

“So, uhh… what should we do if he were, say, walking directly towards us?” Tucker questioned nervously.

“Play along,” Jazz told them quickly. “Don’t let him know that you’re onto him. I’ve got a plan.”

Jazz then hung up, putting her phone back in her pocket as she hurried down the stairs to the lab. She had said she had a plan, and she did—it just wasn’t a very good one.

Jazz was relieved to find the Boo-merang sitting on the counter next to the ghost portal. Quite a few of her parents’ ghost-hunting weapons and gear were missing; Jazz guessed that they must’ve stocked up before heading out. She checked the cabinets and found an old research notebook and a pen. She ripped out an empty page and got to work.

Her handwriting was far less tidy than usual as she quickly scrawled a message to Danny. The note was short and concise, letting Danny know that his evil future self had taken his place, and if Danny could find Vlad’s portal—and by extension, Vlad—he might be able to find his way back home. Jazz would do her best to hold off Evil Danny until her Danny came back.

It wasn’t a very solid plan, but it was all she could think of.

She folded up the note and pulled off her headband, using it to tie the paper securely to the Boo-merang. Jazz then walked over to the open portal, stopping just feet away from the swirling green vortex. She looked down at the device in her hands, suddenly unsure if her idea would even work.

But what other choice did she have?

“I need you to find Danny,” Jazz whispered quietly to the Boo-merang, almost like a prayer. It wasn’t voice-activated, but telling it what to do sort of helped to reassure her. “Fourteen-year-old Danny. Ten years from now.”

The Boo-merang didn’t respond—obviously—but Jazz felt a bit less hopeless as she drew her arm back and threw the little gadget into the infinite green expanse of the Ghost Zone.

First: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 23

Next: Chapter 25

[jase-is-ace]

Back into the Pit

Chapter 16: A Truce

~~~

As Twist and Porter neared a chasm, the friendly lost one bid her farewell and flowed across. The toon decided against asking questions and instead focused on getting her priorities in order.

First things first. Getting to the upper levels.

Twist had every intention of breaking out of this restrictive prison that is her toon form.

She traversed far but could not locate any stairs leading upward. She had failed to realize that Porter had unintentionally led her deeper into the parts of the studio she was trying to escape from.

The toon let out a long sigh that came out as a whistle due to her teeth.

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted the toon. She was not in the mood to deal with anymore “social interaction” from loons.

Porter being an exception because he seemed like a good guy.

Twist turned on her heel and rushed ahead, not taking any more risks by standing out in the open so blatantly.

Only to run into a dead end. When did the studio become so confusing and foreign to her?

The footsteps grew louder, and a shadow grew from around the corner.

No ink puddles to flow through. No escape. She’d have to fight it seemed.

A figure rounded the corner, and to Twist’s surprise, it was not a lost one.

Rather a young lady who looked to be in her twenties.

Perhaps she was a failed recreation of Alice Angel.

“Bendy? Is that you? Listen, I’m so sorry about earlier and- “the lady seemed to stop in the middle of her rambling.

“You’re not Bendy.” She commented.

Twist gave her a half-lidded look as if to say, “congrats Sherlock. You cracked the case.”

The lady approached, missing how the toon tensed up.

“Well then, who are you? My name is Audrey.” she said, smiling warmly.

Twist took a step back, bumping into the wall.

“Oh, it’s okay! I don’t mean you any harm. I’m just looking for a way out, that’s all.” Audrey claimed, holding up her hands in a reassuring gesture.

Twist looked at her with uncertainty painted across her face.

“Um…Maybe you could help me out?” the young woman held out her right hand, beckoning for the toon to come closer.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake with this toon.

Twist closed the distance between them, reaching out to take the woman’s hand.

A sharp shock penetrated the demoness’ mind, causing her to grip her head in pain.

She let out a pained noise and fell to the floor, much to the animator’s dismay.

Audrey quickly assumed she may have caused the problem and ran to the toon’s side, patting her back to provide some sort of comfort.

Twist did not like the contact whatsoever but was too tied up in her own turmoil to flinch away.  Her cartoonish form started to shed, in a very unsightly way.

Audrey jumped back in surprise, fearing she may have unleashed yet another enemy upon herself.

The Ink Demoness’ hands grew bigger in size, breaking through the clean gloves, revealing unnaturally long and sharp claws.

The spikes growing from her elbows became as clear as day under the dirty yellow lighting.

Audrey inched backwards, standing to her full height, and pulling out her GENT pipe.

Twist let out a blood curdling roar, finally breaking through the prison she was forced into. She looked down at the woman whom she now towered over. The said woman seemed to stutter over her words.

“Oh God…”

Twist grinned down at her but made no move to attack, rather pushing past her and making her way down the hall.

Audrey was left in stunned silence.

Shaking her head, she ran after the demoness.

Twist stalked down the long dreary corridors, ignoring how she was called after.

“Wait! Come back!” Audrey called.

In due course, the young animator caught up to the Ink Demoness’ long strides.

“You never answered my question! Which by the way, I have more of” she said. Perhaps chasing after a demon wasn’t the wisest thing to do. However, she was the one who seemed to be terrorizing the friendly toons of the studio.

Twist scoffed before signing.

“Leave me be.”

Audrey tilted her head before realizing.

“Oh, I don’t understand sign language, sorry.” She explained. Twist paused, then looked at one of the walls.

She approached it and wrote down some advice.

“Chasing Demons is not a clever move.”

Audrey hesitated before replying.

“But I am pretty sure I hurt you and I just wanted to apologize.” The woman replied.

Twist was taken aback from the sentiment. She moved her claw against the wall.

“Not your fault.”

“Oh, well that is a relief.” Audrey sighed, guilt leaving her body. “Then what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Twist sneered, not wanting to think about the assholes who put her through all that torture.

“Alright! Sensitive topic. Understood.” Audrey quickly interjected, retracting her previous question. She put her hands up in surrender.

“Um, if there are more than one demon; have you happened to see another little toon devil wandering around?” the girl asked. She needed to find Bendy and apologize for the trouble she had caused.

Twist felt her soul twinge in guilt. The demoness had left the toon all by himself. She was rightfully scared after figuring out he was the Ink Demon that took her life all those years ago but…

“Why?” she wrote on the wall.

Audrey fiddled with her finger, suddenly finding them much more interesting. Sighing, the animator pulled the doll she had picked up from Bendy.

“I uh, hurt him. Unintentionally, but he ran away and dropped this.” She held out the doll for the Demoness to see.

Audrey flinched when the doll was suddenly snatched from her grip.

Twist took a long look at the gift Bendy had made for her. It was still in good condition, not a flaw in sight.

She frowned deeply as the guilt forced itself into her mind. The ink creature looked up at Audrey, seemingly contemplating her next move.

She had to know he was okay.

Ink Demon or not she cared for him. Twist turned to face the wall, choosing her words carefully.

“I will help you. This was a gift from my friend.”

Audrey’s eyes brightened at the prospect of having an ally.

“Yes, of course.” she said nodding in determination.

“I do not know if he will recognize us, however.”

It was true, Twist was spared by the Ink Demon. That didn’t confirm he was good now.

“We’ll figure something out. I’m sure of it.” Audrey smiled.

Twist gazed at her.

Quite the optimist.

Twist could learn to appreciate it.

~~~

Chapter 15 / Chapter 17