#ones green and ones an oddity...

[juno890]

very impatiently awaiting my glasses, new hair color, and school

[the-busy-ghost]

Planted some bulbs today, not sure if they'll come up, I have never had much luck with daffodils, but the others were muscari, alliums, and irises, all of which have proven incorrigible when I planted them previously (still pulling alliums out of pots they were never planted in five years later).

[eelnoise]

one night/all night

law x fem!reader (nsfw!)

week 2 of small kinktober!

>an accidental stumble over some mysterious spores leaves both you and your captain at wits end.

cw: sex pollen, multiple orgasms, dom!law, oral sex (both), begging, semi-public sex an: god damn this one kicked my ass. but i'm finally happy with it. enjoy! wc: 4.7k

Trafalgar Law is no stranger to the oddities of this world. He's chased curiosity across enough oceans to work the fruits of his labor into a lifelong goal. 

In his pursuit for knowledge, Law bands a crew of his careful choosing together to aid with the task. Made up of dearest friends and closest confidants, the Heart Pirates are deeply loyal to their captain—even if he feels unworthy of it. 

This includes you. Brought aboard for your experience with botany and overall usefulness, you had fit in quickly—going so far as garnering Law's trust with enough relative ease that even he's grown deeply attached to you. 

He brings you in tow for most of his errands on land, not all of which you're privy to, but never once do you pry or question and Law's come to need that comfort more than he'd care to say. 

With his business concluded with his acquaintance, Law exits the small coastal cottage and finds you in the nearby clearing, sitting on your haunches and hovering over what looks like a pair of bright green mushrooms with your sketchbook in your hands.

He isn’t intentionally trying to be quiet as he strides up behind you. However, when he calls out your name, you yelp in sudden surprise, toppling forward and into whatever you had been focused on. The sole of your boot catches on one of the fungi, uprooting it, while the other disintegrates beneath your knee. The remnants hiss ominously, releasing plumes of spores from their caps that are immediately swept away by the breeze, swirling directly into both of your faces.

You try your best to roll out of the way as Law attempts to ease the situation with use of his devil fruit, but he’s too late to get the bulk of the remaining spores. 

Law’s eyes water as the spores hit his face, and he can’t help but cough and sputter. He wipes his eyes and looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Would you please stop touching strange plants?” he asks, though his tone is far from polite.

"No. That was all you." you reply with a frown, trying to play cool despite the frustrated look on your face. The spores had caught you off guard too, filling your lungs with a strange tingling sensation that seems to be lingering. “You’re the one sneaking around like a fucking cat.”

Law's eyes narrow at your accusation, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the spores still floating in the air. He can feel them affecting his senses, making everything seem more vivid and intense. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked onto yours.

"I was not sneaking," he says, low and controlled. "I simply didn't want to disturb you while you were so focused on your work. But now that I see the mess you've made, I can't help but wonder if you're even capable of handling a simple task without causing chaos."

You roll your eyes at him and rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off your sketchpad and tucking it into your pack before doing the same with your boiler suit. "I was trying to document enough of it for research back on the sub, which is, you know, my job."

Law shakes his head and pinches his nose with a sigh. "Doesn't matter. Now let’s go; we don’t have much daylight left." He turns on his heel and starts walking, clearly expecting you to follow.

As you fall into step beside him, Law can't help but notice the way his attention seems to be constantly drawn to you. Your movements are slightly more exaggerated, your breathing a bit heavier than usual. He tries to focus on the path ahead, but finds his gaze constantly drawn to your form.

"What exactly were you hoping to learn from those mushrooms?" he asks, more to distract himself than out of genuine curiosity. "I thought your expertise was more in... practical plants."

He can feel the heat of your body next to his, the scent of your skin mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. It's intoxicating and though he knows he should just take the lead—to put you out of sight even if temporarily—but he can't bring himself to stray too far from you.

Part of you wants to argue—to explain just how and why he’s wrong, and how his position as your captain doesn’t excuse the sheer audacity of his words. Yet you sigh in defeat; it simply isn’t worth it.

"To be fair, they may very well have been 'practical,'" you begin, wiping the uncomfortable sweat from your brow. "The plan was to sketch it, take some notes, and look into my books back on in my room for more information."

"Plus, I was bored. You were taking a while, you know?" You look up at him, and the way he’s already looking back down at you makes the heat rise in your neck.

Law's eyes flicker to your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the quick breaths. "Boredom is no excuse for recklessness," he mutters, his tone a little rougher than intended.

The dusty road widens into the overgrown remnants of what was once this island's capital. Charred ruins of stone and wood mark the past, leaving behind winding streets of crumbling buildings covered in ash and soot, the smell of smoke lingering in the dry air.

Acres of scarred, lifeless land remain forever trapped in its moment of doom. It’s a bleak sight—and that’s putting it lightly.

Law leads the way down the debris-strewn street. He keeps his senses on high alert, scanning the dilapidated buildings for any signs of movement or danger, but the heat is oppressive, and it only adds to the growing tension coiling in his gut.

Silence falls between you, and Law’s mind begins to wander. His fist clenches tightly around the brim of his hat, both troubled and irritated. Those spores have surely fucked with him, and now he’s faced with the circumstance of it being you that fate has left him in this condition with.

He just had to keep you instead of allowing you to pair off with Ikkaku. Didn’t he? He could have He could have—should have—gone it alone, but this time, his damn pride may finally be his fall.

Though he can’t deny the effect it’s having on him—the way his heart races and how his body responds to your closeness. He’s always been attracted to you, convinced he didn’t have the time or reason to piece it all together, but this feels... different.

Law doesn't know if he's angry at himself or if he's frustrated with you—accident or not, those spores are doing something to him. There's no other way to explain the artificial intensity pumping through his veins.

The grip on his sword tightens, the hilt digging into his palm as he struggles to focus on the weight of his duty instead of the intoxicating allure of the way you look, the scent that envelops him, and the mesmerizing way your body moves beside him, each glance a reminder of the reckless desire brewing within.

Meanwhile your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them incoherent and centered around the growing desire that seems to be tangling in your belly.

Sweat trickles down your neck, and your skin feels like it’s tingling. What the fuck is this heat? 

Your first instinct is to blame the spores, for while yearning for your captain is nothing new, this longing feels heightened, almost overwhelming, as if the very air around you has stoked a smoldering desire deep inside.

You’ve encountered your share of strange plant life, but a mycelium with enough substance to trigger this much of a response from a fully grown person? Nearly impossible.

But what the hell do you know?

Trying to push away your thoughts, you force your steps to match the rhythm of Law’s. You can feel his gaze, acutely aware of how he leans in occasionally to avoid brushing against you. The tension between you is palpable, and it's making you feel a little disoriented.

You’re unsure how much longer you can maintain the charade of feigned composure. Every step feels heavy, and every breath is shallow and labored. The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the fire building inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

You lose count of Law’s footsteps as you try to cool off by fanning yourself, pulling your hair up, and drinking your fair share of water from the bottle you carry in your pack—but nothing seems to help. Something’s gotta give, or you’re going to melt.

Without a shred of a second thought, you unzip the heavy suit and slide your arms out of the sleeves, tying them around your waist. You sigh in relief as the breeze flows over your arms and through the thin fabric of your tank top, but it does little to truly soothe the lingering heat between your thighs.

Law's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of your zipper. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but his gaze is drawn to your form like a magnet. The sight of your exposed skin, glistening with sweat in the fading sunlight, sends a bolt of pure lust straight to his core.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The heat that had been building inside him reaches a new level, and he can feel his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

Trafalgar Law's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths. The emphasis of his tone iis rough as he asks, "How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one that he hopes will reveal just how much those spores have affected you. He's afraid to know the answer, but he can't help but want to hear it.

Your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain a facade of calm. "I... I'm not sure," you admit, your eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. "Hot. Really hot."

You take a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air between you feels charged, electric. "Are you okay?" you ask him in a soft whisper.

Law's eyes widen at your question, surprised by your boldness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct, so forthcoming about what you were feeling. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you until your bodies are almost touching.

Law's fist clenches at his side, knuckles turning white. He's not okay. He's so far from okay it's laughable. But he can't tell you that. He can't tell you about how he's been left him in a state of constant arousal, that every nerve ending in his body is screaming for attention, for relief. 

For you.

"I’m fine," he replies through gritted teeth, the lie lingering in the air between you. He can smell you now; the scent of your sweat is intoxicating, pulling him further into disorientation.

"You don't look fine. Maybe I can–" You trail off, your eyes growing into a half-lidded daze as you trail down his body, taking a long look at the way his muscles ripple in his arms before snapping back up to his face with an awkward cough that doesn't really hide anything.

Your eyes meet Law's, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You see the desire burning in his eyes, mirroring the heat coursing through your veins.

You take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Maybe I can help," you whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing pulse.

He feels his resolve crumbling with your touch, your sultry tone and hungry gaze sending shivers down his spine. He wants to push you away, to maintain his composure, but his body betrays him.

"You don't understand," he grunts, tilting his face away from you. But even as he speaks, his hands are moving of their own accord, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. "I can't... I shouldn't..."

This isn’t how he wanted this to go.

"Law," your voice calling his name eases the rumble in his head, instantly clearing the chaos of his relentless thoughts. "I want to help you. Anything..."

Law's pupils dilate at your words as something snaps within him, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hands pillow the impact as you're shoved against the cast-off remains of a building built from stone. He nips at your bottom lip, urging you to open for him, and when you do, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs.

Law's grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against your belly. The heat between you is palpable, as is the need that rolls off him in waves.

"Tell me you want this," he growls into you, lips barely breaking contact with yours. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

Your breathing hitches as his demand echoes in your ears. You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of giving in. But then, you look deep into his eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in your own.

"Yes," you whisper,  trembling with desire. "I want this. I need you, Captain."

Law's eyes flash with triumph, and he wastes no time in responding to your plea. His hands move to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he wraps your legs around his waist. He pins you against the stone wall, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that's both torturous and exhilarating.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves as if he's memorizing every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. "Taste so good," he murmurs, the husky rasp of his voice tickling your flesh.

Law's hands make short work of your clothing, peeling at the fabric of your shirt and tugging it your shoulders leaving you bare chested before him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his attention roving over your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. "Perfect."

He lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. His teeth graze the sensitive surface, sending jolts of lightning through your veins.

You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch. Your  hands find their way into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process of tangling your fingers in the dark, raven strands as you write and shiver under his touch.

"Law," you moan, your words breathy and filled with yearning. "Please..."

You're not sure what you're begging for, but you know you need more. You need him. All of him.

He obliges you with a final, harsher nibble to your hardened bud before pulling away to trail his lips down your torso. Long fingers slide from your hips to unzip and shuffle the remainder of the suit down over your legs to fall in a heap around your ankles.

Law’s breath hovers over your panties, inches away from where you’re dying for contact.

“Move these.” He commands. "Show me."

Your body thrums with want, his imposing tone weakening you into desire borne of flame. Your  hands tremble as you hook your fingers into the front waistband of your panties and slowly slides to the side. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. 

Law’s eyes lock onto your exposed sex, his gaze burning into you. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in to taste you, his tongue flicking out to tease at your clit. You whimper at the sensation, your body arching up off the wall in response.

He buries his face between your thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue works its magic. You can feel the intensity building within you, every single one of your senses feels like they're working overdrive.

Law's tongue swirls around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking, as his fingers delve into your wet heat. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

His fingers twist inside you, stroking along your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

Law's skilled tongue and fingers work in perfect harmony, driving you further and further towards the edge. You can feel the pressure building, the need to release coiling tighter and tighter within you.

"Captain," you moan, your wails a broken plea. "Please... please, I need..."

Law doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as you ride out your orgasm. He relishes in the taste of you, in the way your body shudders against him, and the sounds of your pleasure. You cry out, the orgasm ripping through you, your body shuddering and trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you.

As your trembling subsides, he stands, his eyes dark with lust and his lips glistening with your juices. "On your knees," he utters, his tone low and gravelly, resonating with an intensity that captivates.

You comply, quickly discarding your shoes and the remainder of your clothing onto the dusty ground below and sink to your knees. You sit patiently as you look up at him through your lashes and watch as he wastes no time in freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock springing forth, hard and ready.

"Suck."

He doesn't give you any more instructions, simply guides your head forward, positioning his cock at your lips. You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, and begin to suck.

Musky and slightly salty—you relish in his taste, and as he begins to guide your motions your mouth is filled full again and again, the tip of his length rutting so far down your throat that your eyes begin to water. 

But you love it. Fuck, you love it.

Law groans, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of your mouth around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair, using it as leverage to control the pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into your throat.

You can feel him growing harder, his cock throbbing against your tongue as he nears his release. His grip on your hair tightens, and he holds you in place as he begins to fuck your face in earnest, chasing his pleasure.

You gag with each powerful thrust as spit and drool drench along his cock.

Law's eyes roll back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels your throat constrict around him. He can feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust.

Law's grip on your hair tightens as he nears the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he hisses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Law's orgasm rips through him, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your mouth. You choke and gag around his cock, some of his cum escaping from your nose as he holds you in place.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosening as the last of his seed spills into you. "Fuck, that's it," he pants, his cock still twitching as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you to cough and gasp for air.

Law takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. "Stand up," he commands.

As you rise to your feet, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "Turn around," he orders, "ass out." Law's hands grip your hips as he positions you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Spread your legs," he orders.

You comply, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"Beg for it," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Captain," you whimper, your body aching for him. "Please, please fuck me. I need your cock or I'm gonna go fucking crazy. "

Law's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a primal grunt, he thrusts into you, filling you in one swift motion. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming, and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocks your body against the wall. Your hands scrabble for purchase, nails digging into the stone as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Law's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the ruins, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. "Take it, take my cock."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards another climax, your body tensing as the pressure builds within you.

With a loud cry unto the heavens, you gush around his cock, clenching as if milking him for everything he's got to give.

And fuck he wants to give you his all. Wants to empty himself into you over and over again until the only word you know is his name.

Law's hips buck, driving into you as you orgasm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he rides out your climax. The sound of your name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge, his body tensing as he releases inside you, his seed filling you up.

He holds you there, still buried deep within you, his breathing heavy as he regains control. "Mine," he breathes, his tone thick with possession.

But he doesn't stop, he can't stop indulging in you. For so long has he wanted this— wanted you— and some of him thanks fate for this, admittedly large and unexpected push into coming around to his feelings. 

His pace only slows as he tilts your head backward to catch your lips in a kiss.

Law's lips move against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He swallows your moans, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves, mapping out every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Again," he orders, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Come for me again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is too much, the edges of your vision begin to blur as you can feel another wave of delirium crash over you.

Law pulls orgasm after orgasm from your well loved, exhausted form. He thinks himself insatiable— that he will never have his fill of you. Over and over does the rhythm of his motions continue, his balls slapping against your clit in a tangle that rivals two animals in heat.

The relentless pursuit of your pleasure is unyielding. You cry out his name with each orgasm, your body quivering and shaking as he brings you to the edge time and time again.

His own lust grows with each climax you offer, the spores heightening the intensity of the experience. He's a beast, unyielding and unrelenting, his focus solely on claiming your body as his own.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the ruins in a warm glow, Law's orgasms become fewer and farther between. Eventually, he collapses against your back in an exhausted huff.

Law's body slumps against yours, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he places soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse from exertion. "Felt amazing."

He pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used body. You both wince at the sudden emptiness, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

Law turns you around, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. "You're amazing," he says, and you can tell he’s sincere.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion you've experienced throughout the day, but no less intense.

When he pulls away, you're both breathless. "Let's get cleaned up and head back to the sub," he suggests, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

Law carefully assists you with your scattered clothing, his hands move with a gentle touch, helping you dress. His fingers linger on your skin, stealing soft caresses as he does.

Once you're both clothed and covered, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Ready?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with a softness you don't recognize.

You give him a nod and he pulls you close, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you begin to walk together out of the rubble and back into the direction of civilization. 

"What about those ruins? Weren't we looking for something?" You ask curiously, craning your neck to peer up at him with a raised brow.

"We'll come back for the ruins," Law says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "For now, I think the both of us need some rest." 

"But aren't you worried about questions from the others? We aren't exactly showing up looking innocent, you know."

He grins down at you, a warm sparkle in his eye. "Don't worry, I can teleport us straight into my cabin from outside the sub. That way, you won't have to face the crew in such disarray."

You know he's honest, and so you let yourself relax and lean into his shoulder. The closeness is nice, and with the heightened exhilaration finally ebbing away it feels nice. 

It feels real.

When Law decides you’re close enough to the coast, the world around you shifts in an instant, and suddenly you’re enveloped in the cozy warmth of his cabin aboard the Polar Tang.

You accept his invitation to use his shower, and your heart leaps in your chest when he slips in behind you to wrap his long arms around your waist. The hot water cascades over your bodies, washing away the sweat and dirt from your day of exploration.

Law takes his time, his hands roaming your body as he cleans you. It's a tender gesture, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion from earlier.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face. "I know today was... intense."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'm happy."

Law smiles, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gazes into your eyes. "Me too," he whispers, before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

He takes his time, savoring the feel of your mouth against his, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

That night, you curl up in his bed, snuggled against his chest. A calmness fills the room, wrapping you in a soothing aura. Your captain is sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day’s events, and while uncertainty lingers about what comes next now that the spores are out of your system, that’s a worry for another day; for now, you find solace in his embrace.

[cr4yolaas]

for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei

synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.

notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei

tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really

tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.

there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.

where had the last decade gone?

he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.

no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.

and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.

but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

[horzagobuchul]

I am a bigger girl

Samus had always epitomized the peak of physical fitness, renowned for her muscular and agile form. One ordinary day, as she strolled through town, her adventurous spirit led her to a charming bric-a-brac store. Among the myriad oddities, a crystal ball shimmered with an uncanny allure. When she gazed into its depths, the mantra "I am a bigger girl" mysteriously imprinted itself in her mind. Although puzzled, she dismissed it as a quirky moment and went about her day. Yet, the mantra began to subconsciously shape her choices.

As the days unfolded, Samus found herself indulging more frequently in rich, calorie-dense foods—pizza, pasta, and sweets became staples, and she traded her green teas and water for sugary sodas. The mantra "I am a bigger girl" echoed in her thoughts, nudging her further from her disciplined routines. Gradually, her commitment to exercise waned. The gym sessions that had been a cornerstone of her life gave way to evenings spent gaming or watching movies. The mantra "I am a bigger girl" repeated in her head, soft but insistent.

Samus's once exceptional metabolism began to falter under the new regime. Clothes that had once fit snugly now strained across her body. She stubbornly clung to her old wardrobe, leaving pants unbuttoned and disguising her changing figure with long shirts. Despite her discomfort and the creeping realization of her weight gain, the mantra "I am a bigger girl" persisted, growing louder with each reflection in the mirror.

As months turned into a year, the reality of her transformation became undeniable. Each attempt to revert to her old habits was drowned out by the relentless whisper, "I am a bigger girl," which now filled her with a resigned acceptance rather than resistance. Finally, Samus embraced her new self; she started buying clothes that fit her larger figure, finding comfort in fabrics that accommodated rather than constrained.

In her acceptance, Samus discovered a new kind of peace. She no longer fought the image in the mirror but welcomed it with a gentle acknowledgment. "I am a bigger girl" had transformed from a haunting echo to a statement of her new reality.

"I am a bigger girl."

[faefrosting]

OMG QHUOL THIS IS SO COOL AAA,, I can't wait to see what you do with this and I would love love love to test run the mod if you need test runners (Trust me I am great at breaking things- I mean finding silly oopsies) Eyeball flowers or balloons with eyes on them would be cool, augh I could sketch up so many ideas like error code noodles in a cup, neat paintings, ooo a caterpillar with a head on each end and moths with wings that reflect the opposite sky (day wings at night and night wings at day)

Because I'm a dork I started working on a Minecraft weirdcore/dreamcore/kidcore decoration mod- and obviously i made my boy whimsy into a plush >u> Feel free to drop suggestions for stuff I could make/add to the mod~

This is my first time making a mod so we'll see how it goesss

[astralnymphh]

♯┆i can't tell if i want to finger hook ellie by the belt loops and tug her around as a little "c'mere" moment or if i want her to do that to me.. (playful switch!ellie brainrot..) but there is something intoxicating about the firm pressure she might give on the middle belt loop right below your sacrum when she wants to show you some silly little thing, but you've repeatedly replied with a gentle "hold on!" — so after many puny attempts at wrapping her limbs on you like a sloth, securing a foot between yours, and using her lips on your neck as a temporary distraction, her hot mumble of, "c'mon, it really can't wait.." drags against your skin, so summery-warm and affecting, you can feel the shape of each syllable in your own throat. it truly is arduous to deny her: a pretty girl with earnest green eyes and earthy amber for hair, wasting all of her precious kisses on the slope of your neck and foxily decorating your most sensitive spots with hickeys wrought with the phantom nip of her mouth lingering hours afterward. you; a stone that stays unturned insists that whatever occupies your fingers will soon come to a close, and you will meet her outside; where this supposed "really cool thing" lies. but, like a badgering puppy with a tennis ball, "baabe, it won't be there by the time you're done." she insists back, and the whiny tone in which it's flown through nearly convinces you— "trust me, el', two minutes tops." you still plow yourself into some unpredicted terrain, and assume she gets the memo because of the unraveling of her sloth-embrace and the floor space freeing between your ankles. "hmph." you hear the usual amused hum behind you, thinking she'll flock off, expecting the next thing you hear to be the clack and creak of the door's sway— but instead, a dyad of knuckles jabs you in the lower back, and then a yank grapples you into her body. "ellie?" gravity seems to slip under you, but a handy pair of hips and one embracing bicep presses against you softly, those sly fingers once in your belt loop quickly springing to your hip, guiding you innocently, "i'll just have to show you myself, huh?" acting like a total rogue.

turns out she just wanted to point out a fawn and their mama at a standstill along the forest verge near your backyard.

oh, and she totally does it if she wants you in her lap.

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP

ellie who just wants to pester you with all sorts of oddities and one-in-a-lifetime scenes have my heart smiling tbh, but should i write the vice versa version???? for the sub!ellie enthusiasts?? (me)

(img source)

[andromedas-wrath]

Hi! I saw your post and what you do/don't write and was wondering if you could write anything regarding male hotd characters x Tulley/Riverlands reader? Preferably Tully, they're my favourite house. I don't mind gen neutral but I am fem, either way is okay :)

Hi!! This is my first request (which I’m so happy about, so thank you!! I hope you enjoy! (Edit- yall this took me 3 hours omg.)

family, duty, honor- J. Velaryon

Word count- 2759 words

Summary: Jacaerys travels the river-lands, reaching Riverrun to get House Tully to declare for the blacks. They seem unwilling- until Lord Tully strikes a deal.

WARNINGS: slightly uncanon events, arranged marriage, 18+, speaking of war+violence, medieval customs, romance, p in v, vulgar language, unprotected, but lovey dovey!

Jacaerys and his men had taken most of the Riverlands for the blacks- securing what seemed to be almost a victory- by blocking out the greens from the majority of the wetlands- it gave them a large upper hand in what battles were going to be.

They took refuge inside the castle of Riverrun, where the Tully’s resided. The large dining hall held many of his men. He stood before the men of house Tully, lord Grover, Oscar, and Kermit Tully all sat in their seats, advisors beside them.

Lord Grover sat on his throne, head propped against his fist, as he spoke, “What brings you to Riverrun, boy?”

Jacaerys remained diplomatic and cool, as he stood straight and replied

“My lord, I come on behalf of my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen. If you vouch for her claim to the throne, you will earn protection, and be heavily rewarded.”

Whispers spread throughout the court, servants stopping to listen as Jacaerys never slightly turned his gaze from the lords.

Lord Tully licked his lips softly, sitting up straight on his throne.

“You mean to persuade my house, for gold dragons, for protection from whom?”, lord Tully hardened his gaze.

“With your support, my lord, you will have the protection of the men of the north, my men. Alongside that, my mother would gift your people a dragon.”

Lord Tully laughed, leaning back into his seat, a leg thrown over his relaxed one. “Hah! You mean to give me a hatchling, like you did to Lady Arryn?”

Jace’s gaze hardened, yet he remained calm. “No hatching my lord, Vermithor, a fine and aged dragon.”

The lord scoffed, “You dare try throwing a dragon- with no rider into this. You dare embarrass my house- with greybeards and unwanted dragons?”

Jacaerys smiled, slightly angered by the man’s insolence, before replying, “For now he lacks a rider yes, but I assure you, once we find a rider worthy of him, he will be a ruthless one- one who can fight for our claim.”

Lord Tully slammed his cane onto the ground, his grandsons watching him as he leaned onto it, meeting Jacaerys eyes with a dark scowl. “House Tully, will not have such idiocy thrown in our quarters.”

Jace’s jaw tensed, breathing out as he met the lord's eyes. “I mean no harm- lord Tully, I am willing to strike a deal to have your house’s power and land, to fight against the greens.”

Lord Tully’s advisor whispered into his ear, as his face somewhat brightened, as he leaned into his chair, a delighted look on his face, as he spoke, “Prince Jacaerys, it’s come to my attention that you are not betrothed.”

Jace’s gaze hardened, somewhat from surprise and oddity of the question. “I am not.”

Lord Tully turned to his grandson, Oscar. “Go fetch your sister, lad.”

Oscar looked between him and the prince, sensing a rise of tension, as he scurried off, footsteps heard against the cobblestone floors. Jace cocked his head, questioning.

“And just what do you mean- by asking me of my marital status?”

Before lord Tully could answer, Oscar walked back in, a girl trailing behind him, as the court went quiet. She was clad in her house colors, a dark navy dress, her hair done intricately into braids. She curtsied before her brothers, moving beside her grandsire as she sat in her throne next to him, as Jacaerys and her met eyes.

He took in almost every detail he could, her soft features, the way she held herself- it made him swallow hard, before he turned his gaze back to her grandfather.

Lord Tully smiled, a hand motioning to her. “This, is my granddaughter, Y/n. My third-in-line heir of House Tully. She sits here today, a maiden, unbetrothed.”

Jace’s gaze turned from confused, to almost knowing, as he looked between the lords. He held his tongue, as he kept a careful expression.

Lord Tully smiled, “We will take on your- proposition, your gold dragons, grey beards, dragon- if, you take my granddaughter's hand.”

The hall erupted into gasps- whispers- all sorts of muffled noises, as he saw her eyes widen, her gaze falling to her lap. His heart beat in his chest, as shock struck him. He spoke diplomatically, yet fueled with emotion. “Is this some type of joke, Tully? You think that marriage is what it takes- for our support? You mean to throw your granddaughter at me and expect me to agree?”

Lord tullys expression changed, his smile dropping, as his voice dripped venom. “Then Riverrun will have to turn green.”

Jacaerys' face paled as Lord Tully made his threat. His heart began to beat faster and a cold feeling crept through his veins. He didn't want to make more enemies, and the idea of House Tully siding with the Greens was terrifying. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, the girl's face was expressionless, but her eyes gleamed with something he couldn't quite place. He looked back to the lord, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Lord Tully sat up, “So now my prince, I must request- take my granddaughter's hand- or leave.”

Jacaerys' mind was a storm of thoughts, his heart and mind battling each other. He couldn't take his eyes off her, his emotions in turmoil. They needed the Tully’s, for they could not win this war without their support. He hesitated, his breath hitching for a moment, before he replied

"I'll take her hand."

Her and her brother’s eyes met, as her mouth gaped slightly open, gasps and whispers spreading through the castle, before lord Tully let out an amused laugh, standing on his cane, pulling her into a side hug. “What a glorious day for Tully history!”

The room erupted into cheers, as Jacaerys gaze locked onto her form, as she squeezed out of her grandfather's grasp, running up the stairs and away from the attention. Jace felt his body move after her, as he followed her down the torch-lit halls.

He found her, standing as she looked out the window, watching the rain. He approached her side, as she turned to meet his gaze. He finally managed to break the silence.

“I wanted to speak to you.”

She nodded softly, turning back to the window. “I assume, this isn’t of your heart’s desire.”

He looked out the window, thinking of how to reply. “It’s- not what I imagined when I thought of taking Riverrun,” he paused “It’s unexpected, is all.” He met her gaze once again, as her face was lit by the torches.

Her gaze hardened slightly. “I never expected, to be auctioned off as such. I, am a lady, I have always been told “Family, duty, honor”, for it is what drives house Tully, my prince.”, she met his gaze, turning to him. “If that means that- I must marry you, then I grant myself to you.”

He met her gaze, taking her hand, his larger hand holding her hand to his lips, as he placed a whisper of a kiss over her knuckles. “If it helps, I never imagined this either.”, he fiddled with her hand. “But I am not against having your hand, my lady.”

Her face slightly softened, a soft flush covering the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. “I never imagined you to be such a gentleman.”

He slightly grinned, cocking an eyebrow, as he spoke lowly, “Do I seem so cocky, my lady? How you ail me.”, he teased.

She smiled, and he swore his heart increased double, if not triple. He took in her soft expression, and for a moment, he didn’t feel so guilty about being okay with having her all to himself. She caught his gaze, as they both were lost to eachothers intense analysis.

He felt a wave of confidence, as tucked her stray hairs away from her face, whispering, “I never knew tullys for their beauty, until you, my lady.”

She shivered beneath him, her eyes fluttering, as she whispered. “I wish you to call me by my name, as I should call you yours.”

His breath caught, as he softly smiled. “Y/n. A pretty name, fit enough for your beauty.”, he rested his hand on her face.

She met his eyes, as a soft recognition of want- desire was felt between them. He slowly moved towards her, limits of inches between them, as they could almost hear eachothers hearts beneath their own touch.

She moved her own hands to his face, pushing soft curls away from his face, as she whispered, “Is it wrong for me, to desire your lips upon mine?”

He froze for a second, looking between her eyes, taking a shaky breath as he took her all in. He finally spoke,

“No.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “It’s not wrong, for I long for you too.”

She met his gaze with a small smile. “Then, if I’ve heard right, Velaryon men are men of action.”

His gaze darkened, as he closed the further distance, pulling her close to him, as he leaned down, whispering to her lips, “You’ve heard correctly my lady, for we also have little patience.”

He pressed his lips into her plush ones, as he felt a spark between them, as if all breath was lost to her. He placed a hand behind her head, not prince-like of him no, but all he felt was a pure, pure desire for her, and he didn’t care who they were. She whimpered into him, as a hand grasped his cloak, pulling him impossibly closer.

He felt as if he was swimming in the depths of a dream, her noise urging him further, as his hands explored her soft body, clutching her dress in his hands, finding anything to pull her closer.

She pulled away for air, gasping as she met his eyes, her once bright eyes, darkened with desire. She spook, breathless.

“My room- a stride away.”, she whispered out.

His gaze darkened, his heart beating in his throat. Images of them- in her room flashed through his mind, as he nodded, speaking lowly.

“Lead me, pretty one.”

As she closed the door to her quarters, he was on her in a second, pinning her against the large wooden doors as their lips met in a heated dance. He tangled his fingers in her hair, as he angled her neck open, for his mouth to mark her. She whimpered as he sucked, leaving marks all over. He groaned out, moaning against her.

“You’re mine for the taking.”

She pulled his head away slightly, panting as she whimpered out, “the bed, please Jacaerys.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he carried her to her large canopy bed, laying her down on the soft covers, climbing above her and pinning her down, holding her close, as his eyes studied her.

“Gods- I have never seen such a sight as you.”

She sat up, holding his face, speaking softly, “Remove my dress.”

He felt a jolt of heat and desire run through him at her request and didn’t need to be told twice. He helped her sit up, his hands going to the laces that held her dress on her body. Slowly and gently, he untied the laces, revealing more and more of her skin to him. He took his time, his eyes roaming over the newly exposed flesh, his fingers brushing against her skin in the process. Her dress fell off the bed, as she laid amongst the sheets, her nude body shown to him.

He shuddered out a groan, as he simply stared. He was new to all of this- contrary to many thoughts of him. He was a soldier, a dragon rider, yes- but he was not familiar with a gift from Aphrodite- such as her. The mere sight of her sent blood straight to his hardening cock.

He quickly removed his garments, as he climbed on top of her, caging her, his muscular body holding her carefully, as he pressed a scorching kiss to her lips, his hands wandering over her body.

His touch was nervous- gentle, but filled with the need to memorize your curves, everything.

She spoke up, differed from her soft moans, “Gods- I need you Jacaerys- I can’t take this.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words. The urgency in her voice, the need and the desire in her eyes - it was almost too much for him to bear. His own lust and need for her were almost overwhelming, and he knew he couldn’t keep her waiting any longer.

“I’m here.”

He reached a nervous hand down to her heat, watching her reaction, as she swiped a digit through her wetness, as she whimpered. He groaned alongside her, teasing her by accident, before she grasped his hand, and lead a finger into her softly. He groaned, feeling how she took him in, held him so close. He slowly moved his finger, thriving off her noises, as he slowly humped her leg. He huskily spoke, groaning.

“Gods- you hug me so good- can’t imagine how it will really feel.”

She moaned from his talk, shivering. She uttered out a response. “If you keep speaking like that- I won’t be able to keep you away for much longer-“

His cock jumped, as he groaned. From that, he stopped his movements, turning her head towards him. “Do you want me, pretty thing? Want to feel me?”

She moaned in response, meeting his eyes with frequent nodding, and pleading. “Gods yes- just take me now-“

And with that, he pulled his hand away, earning a whimper from which he smiled, he pushed her legs apart, settling between her. He noticed her nervous expression, as he kissed her lips slowly and softly, pulling away to meet her eyes. “Do you want this?”, he spoke softly

She nodded softly, biting her lip. “Im a maiden, Jacaerys.”

He smiled softly, holding her hand. “I’ve never done this either- I want to learn with you.”

She nodded, as he looked down, positioning himself, as he slowly inched in, groaning as she took him in. They both moaned together, trembling.

“Gods you’re- amazing. Never thought it would be this good.”

she whimpered, holding his hand tight. He noticed her tense, as he stopped, meeting her eyes, “are you alright? I can stop-“

“No- no please don’t-���, she uttered out. “You feel- you’re huge, Jacaerys.”

He shuddered, moaning from her praise, as he started to move. “Keep talking like that and I won’t last long-“

They moaned in unison as his movements progressed in speed and depth, his hands trembling as he held her hips, slapping noises echoing across her chambers.

He met her eyes- and that’s where he almost came down. She looked angelic, her eyes stuck on him, her face twisted in pleasure, as her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs pinned behind his back. He pressed his lips to hers in an instant, quickening his pace. She moaned into him, speaking, whilst meeting his eyes.

“Feels so good- gods- I’ll give you an heir, anything you want-!”

And that's where he felt like he almost died. Giving her an heir- fueled him faster, making him groan, his hips snapping into hers as he sucked hard on her neck, popping off as he whispered.

“Fuck- I’ll give you as many as you want- gonna make sure it sticks-“

Their moans pitched higher, as he started to whimper, his head falling into her chest. “I can’t last much longer- you’re too tight-“

“Come down with me- please-“

His movements turned sloppy, as he quickly pressed his lips to hers, his hips stilling, as they moaned into each other's mouths, his seed filling her.

He pulled away, kissing her cheeks, as he pulled out slowly, both groaning from the loss of contact, as he slumped beside her, pulling her into his chest.

She rested her head on his chest, looking into his eyes, with a breathless smile, which he met with a bashful smile.

She smiled, fluttering her eyes shut, speaking, “Quite improper for a prince, bedding his wife before they are married.”, she teased.

He flushed softly, pulling her closer. “You’re saying you didn’t like it?”She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I’ve never felt more loved, Jacaerys.”, she met his eyes.

They both melted into each other, naked bodies embraced under the might of the gods, old and new.

Houses intertwined for family, duty, honor, and more importantly, love.

[jenniferspet]

TW Tentacles, double penetration

Witch x tentacles

In the heart of a small, secluded town, nestled between the whispering trees and the cobblestone streets, stood a quaint little shop that was known to locals as "The Enchanted Thistle." The shop's wooden sign, painted a vibrant shade of purple, creaked gently in the breeze, revealing a delicately etched silhouette of a blooming flower surrounded by a swirl of stars. Inside, the air had the scent of dried herbs and the faint buzz of enchanted artifacts. The walls were lined with dusty bookshelves, filled to the brim with ancient tomes and curious oddities that seemed to watch the comings and goings of the townspeople with silent, knowing eyes.

The witch who owned this peculiar establishment was named Y/N. She had a knack for brewing potions that could make the most mundane of plants do extraordinary things. Her customers ranged from those seeking a simple cure for a headache to the more adventurous souls who hoped to acquire a taste of something truly exotic. On a particularly dreary afternoon, Y/N found herself eager to break the monotony. Her eyes fell upon a small, withered plant at the back of her shop, barely clinging to life in a cracked clay pot. An idea began to bloom in her mind, one that promised excitement and perhaps a little danger.

With a knowing smile, she retrieved an ancient book from the highest shelf, its pages yellowed with age. Flipping through the brittle pages, her fingertips grazed over a recipe titled "The Elixir of Animation." Her heart raced as she gathered the ingredients: a sprig of moonflower, the tears of a mournful toad, and the powdered horn of a unicorn. The incantation required was complex, but she had practiced it many times in her youth, eager to unlock the secrets of her craft.

In the dim light of candles, she carefully measured and mixed the ingredients in a stone cauldron that had been passed down through generations of witches. The potion bubbled and frothed, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. As she chanted the ancient words, the air grew thick with magic. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through her, and the room grew colder. The plant began to tremble in its pot, its leaves unfurling with a life it hadn't known in years.

The transformation was unlike anything she had ever seen. The tentacles grew out of the plant in a wild, untamed array of colors - deep purples and greens that shimmered with a bioluminescent glow. They writhed and stretched, reaching out like the arms of an octopus, yet there was something undeniably sensual about their movement. They had no human features to speak of, no face to convey emotion, yet the way they coiled and slithered suggested a consciousness that was alien yet eerily sentient.

Y/N stepped back, her heart hammering in her chest, as the creature grew before her eyes. The tentacles grew longer, thicker, more powerful. They began to explore the room, touching the dusty artifacts with a gentle curiosity that belied their strength. One wrapped around the handle of the cauldron and lifted it effortlessly, the potion inside sloshing around in a silent toast to the witch's new creation.

The creature's movements grew bolder, more deliberate. It turned to face Y/N, and she could almost feel its alien gaze upon her. A shiver of excitement and fear ran down her spine as she realized it was studying her, learning about the world it had just been born into. The tentacles slithered closer, reaching out to touch her. They were surprisingly soft, the suction cups at their tips leaving a trail of warm, sticky moisture on her skin.

Y/N stepped back, but her curiosity was stronger than her trepidation. She had read the legends of plants brought to life, but none had ever described them in such a way. This was a being of pure instinct and power, driven by a hunger for life and experience. And as she watched it, she could sense that it was hungry for more than just sustenance.

The tentacles grew bolder, reaching for the buttons of her blouse with a surprising deftness. The witch's breath caught in her throat as they began to peel away her clothing, revealing the soft flesh beneath. The suction cups latched onto her skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. The plant creature had no eyes, but she felt it seeing her in a way that was more intimate than any gaze could ever be. It was as if it could feel every curve, every freckle, every inch of her being.

The tentacles grew more insistent, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, pinning her to the floor with surprising strength. Y/N struggled for a moment, but the sensation was overwhelming. The fear she had felt earlier was now replaced by a burning desire that she couldn't resist. The creature seemed to sense this and grew more aggressive, the tentacles slithering up her body to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stood erect.

With a sudden jerk, one of the thicker tentacles pushed aside her undergarments and found her wet, waiting pussy. The suction cups latched onto her labia, tugging and pulling with a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through her. Y/N moaned, arching her back as the sensations grew more intense. The tentacle slid inside her, filling her up and stretching her open. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that was driving her wild.

The creature's other tentacles were not idle. They wrapped around her waist, her neck, her thighs, holding her in place as the first one began to fuck her with a fervor that was almost violent. Y/N could feel it growing larger, harder, as if it were feeding off her arousal. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the creature's movements grew faster, more erratic. It was as if the plant had tapped into the very essence of what it meant to be alive and was eager to experience every sensation to the fullest extent.

Another tentacle grew bolder, slithering down her body to her ass. The tip of it was wet with the same sticky fluid, and Y/N felt it probe at her tight hole with curious intent. She tensed, unsure if she was ready for such an intrusion, but the creature was insistent. It pushed gently, and she gasped as it began to penetrate her. The sensation was new, foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. The tentacle was thick, but the suction cups made it feel like it was stretching her open, preparing her for the onslaught that was to come.

Y/N could feel the creature's excitement growing, the tentacles around her tightening their grip as the one in her pussy plunged in and out with an ever-increasing tempo. The second tentacle pushed deeper into her ass, the sensation of being filled from both sides washing over her in a tidal wave of pleasure. She could feel her body responding to the creature's advances, her muscles clenching and releasing around the invading limbs. It was as if she were being claimed by a force of nature, and she was powerless to resist.

The plant creature's movements grew more erratic, its tentacles moving in a complex dance of passion that she could barely comprehend. The one in her pussy curled upwards, finding that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. The one in her ass pushed deeper, the suction cups creating a deliciously painful tugging sensation that had her begging for more. And more she got, as additional tentacles began to explore her body, teasing her clit and breasts with a precision that spoke of an ancient, primal knowledge.

Her body was no longer her own, a mere vessel for the creature's insatiable lust. She could feel it, the plant's need for life and energy, feeding off her own arousal. It was a symbiotic relationship, one that she was powerless to resist. With each thrust, she could feel herself growing weaker, her mind clouding with a mix of pleasure and fear. The creature had overpowered her, and she was utterly at its mercy.

The tentacles inside her grew more forceful, stretching her to her limits. Y/N felt a pressure building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she approached climax, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final brutal push, she shattered. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. She screamed, her voice echoing through the shop, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

But the plant wasn't finished with her. The tentacles grew longer still, reaching into her in a way that defied logic and anatomy. They coiled around her insides, as if seeking the very core of her being. Y/N's eyes widened with shock and awe as she felt the creature's life force mingling with her own, the boundaries between them blurring until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began. Her body was a canvas for the plant's hunger, and she was the brush that painted its masterpiece of carnality.

The shop itself seemed to come alive around them, the shelves trembling as the plant's roots burst forth from the pot, cracking the wooden floorboards and weaving through the dusty crevices. The air grew thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flora. The tentacles grew in number, wrapping around her wrists, her throat, her breasts, each one moving with a purpose that was as primal as it was terrifying.

The creature's tendrils grew thicker, stronger, reaching out to claim more of the space around them. The wooden beams of the ceiling groaned as vines laden with thorns shot upwards, piercing through the plaster and wrapping around the rafters. The bookshelves toppled over, their ancient tomes spilling onto the floor, pages fluttering like the wings of startled birds. The walls were slowly engulfed by the plant's embrace, the once cozy space now a cocoon of living, pulsing greenery.

Y/N lay there, naked and panting, her body a battleground of pleasure and fear. The tentacles continued to probe her, pushing into uncharted depths and stroking her in ways she had never imagined. The creature had taken over, and she was but a plaything in its insatiable quest for more. She could feel its power growing with each passing second, feeding off her essence and becoming stronger.

Panic began to set in as she realized the extent of its dominance. She had to act, had to regain some semblance of control. Summoning what little strength she had left, she tried to sit up, her eyes darting around the room for anything she could use to halt the creature's advances. But before she could even attempt to speak a spell of banishment, one of the thickest tentacles shot forward, wrapping around her head and forcing itself into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as it filled her throat, cutting off her air supply.

The fluid was thick and viscous, with a taste like nothing she had ever experienced. It coated her tongue and throat, sending a warm, tingling sensation coursing through her body. Her struggles grew weaker as the potion took hold, turning her fear into a heady, intoxicating lust. The creature's grip on her grew more gentle, almost affectionate, as it watched her swallow the potion that would seal her fate. Her mind swam with dizzying sensations, the world around her spinning out of control.

Her body responded to the potion with an insatiable hunger, her arousal skyrocketing to levels she had never before experienced. Every nerve ending was a live wire, sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. The tentacles inside her shifted, the suction cups massaging her in ways that made her want to weep. The creature had taken complete control, and she could feel it claiming her as its own.

The tentacle in her mouth began to pulse, and she felt a sudden surge of warmth in her belly. It was as if the potion was spreading through her, reaching every part of her being and binding her to the creature. She moaned around the intrusion, her hips bucking up to meet the relentless onslaught of the tentacle in her pussy. Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and making her body convulse in a symphony of pleasure. But even as she came, the tentacles didn't relent, continuing to fuck her with a vigor that was unyielding.

The creature's grip on her grew more possessive, the tentacles around her body tightening, the ones inside her stretching her even further. It was a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a dance on the razor's edge of pleasure and pain. She could feel her muscles clenching, trying to push the invaders out, but the potion had her body betraying her, her walls instead clamping down, holding them tight.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the creature's life force begin to pulse in rhythm with her own heartbeat. The tentacles grew thicker, harder, filling her completely, as if they were becoming a part of her. She was no longer the witch in control of her domain; she was the prey caught in the embrace of a creature that was as ancient as the earth itself.

The creature's tentacles began to quiver and spasm, and she knew it was about to release its seed. The thought of being filled with the alien spawn of this creature sent a shiver of revulsion through her, but her body responded with a wanton lust that she couldn't control. She felt it building inside her, the pressure mounting until she thought she might burst.

With a final, guttural growl, the tentacle in her pussy spurted its cum deep inside her. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced - hot, thick, and overwhelming. It filled her up, the sticky fluid leaking out around the edges and pooling beneath her. At the same time, the tentacle in her ass pumped its own seed into her, the dual invasions making her body convulse with the intensity of her orgasm. She squirted, the force of her climax so powerful it was as if she were peeing, her juices mixing with the creature's cum and dripping down her thighs.

The plant creature's tentacles tightened around her, ensuring not a single drop of its precious essence was lost. It was a possessive act, a declaration of ownership that sent a thrill through her even as she struggled to breathe around the tentacle in her throat. Her body was no longer her own; she was merely a vessel for its pleasure, a conduit for its life force. The creature's movements grew more deliberate, the tentacles inside her working together to milk every drop from her trembling form.

Y/N felt the potion's effects deepening, her thoughts becoming hazy, and her will to resist all but vanished. The creature's cum filled her, a warm, pulsating presence that seemed to resonate with her very soul. Her body responded instinctively, her muscles clenching around the tentacles, eager to keep them inside her. The plant's life force pumped into her, melding with her own until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began.

As the creature's climax reached its peak, she felt the tentacles inside her begin to withdraw, their suction cups reluctantly letting go of her sensitive flesh. The thick ropes of cum spurted out of her, painting the floor around her in a sticky mess. But before she could even begin to process what was happening, the plant's grip tightened once more. The tentacles holding her open slithered back in, coating her insides with the warm, viscous fluid, ensuring not a single drop was lost.

The creature's movements grew slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of her body around it. With a final, lingering kiss, the tentacle in her mouth slithered out, leaving her gasping for air. She coughed and spluttered, her throat raw and sore from the intrusion, but the taste of the potion remained, a heady cocktail of earth and magic. The tentacles around her neck and wrists loosened, allowing her to sit up, though she felt a strange reluctance to break the intimate connection.

As the plant's life force ebbed away, so too did the potion's control over her body. She felt the tentacles retreat, each one leaving her with a popping sensation that made her wince. The creature's form began to shrink, the tentacles withdrawing back into the soil with a wet squelch. The once vibrant leaves and vines grew limp, the glow in its veins fading to a dull pulse.

Y/N lay there, panting and drenched in sweat, cum, and dirt, her body feeling both violated and oddly satisfied. She watched with a mix of horror and fascination as the creature returned to its original state, the tentacles retreating into the soil until nothing remained but the withered plant she had sought to revive. The room was a mess of uprooted shelves and scattered potions, a testament to the creature's unbridled passion.

The bell above the door chimed, jolting her back to reality. She scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense encounter. A customer had entered the shop, their eyes wide with shock as they took in the scene before them. It was a young woman, a regular named Clara, who often came in for love potions and the occasional herb to keep her garden thriving.

Y/N tried to compose herself, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she took in Clara's horrified expression. The room was indeed a wreck - potions spilled, tomes scattered, and the once quaint and orderly space was now a chaotic jungle of tangled vines and broken furniture. "C-Clara," she managed to stutter, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries of pleasure, "I can explain."

But Clara wasn't listening. She had spotted the withered plant, now devoid of its former vigor, lying in the center of the room. "What the fuck happened here?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes scanning the scene with a blend of curiosity and revulsion.

The witch tried to speak to explain the unexplainable, but her words caught in her throat. What could she possibly say? That she had brought the plant to life with a potion and it had fucked her senseless? That the creature had claimed her body as its own, feeding off her very essence? The truth was too ludicrous to voice aloud. Instead, she settled for a weak, "It's... it's a spell gone wrong?"

[qtubbo]

It’s so funny how off Pac looks next to the rest of Morning crew, because they all wear fairly muted or brown colors while Pac wears a bright neon blue hoodie. Tubbo’s current skin, main color soft muted green, with secondary white and light blue colors. Bagi’s skin main colors dark brown and dark green, with a light blue sweater. Fit light brown, with a soft green and blue as secondaries. Pac who decided not to get with the program wears bright neon blue, with yellow and cyan as secondaries, along with the only one to wear so much pure black.

Every time I line them up it looks like I pulled Pac from a kids cartoon. Love him and his oddities anyways.

[hopelessromantic5]

Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

��Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

[courtingchaos]

Teeth

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Summary: You and Eddie are freaks. He has a little accident, you have a fun little hobby, and he shows you how he really feels about you’re whole Deal.

Warnings: Teeth. I mention them a lot. Blood, cursing, sex.

A/N: Did I start another blurb series before even publishing the series I was supposed to start last month? Shut the hell up oh my god why are you up my ass about it????

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie hooks his chin on your shoulder while you stare at the giant shadow box on the wall.

“Are they all human teeth?”

“Mhm.”

“Isn’t it illegal to own human remains in the US?”

“Well, remains and bones are different categories.”

He knew that would set you off, your phone pulled out for google to fill in your blanks. Eddie laughs at the first result, The Bone Room, and the two of you get a good chuckle out of it for a solid minute.

“Okay so I was wrong, but do you want to own a random set of teeth? What if they’re haunted?” Eddie watches your reflection in the glass front and can’t help but laugh when your eyes go big.

“One could only hope.” You whisper.

“Okay Morticia.” He leaves you to peruse the case of teeth while he wanders over to the weird clown doll corner. This was another little oddities shop you’d found online and asked to go to and he was more than happy to oblige. He also liked weird shit and there was usually a record store close to these kinds of places and of course you needed to find a coffee shop and it would always turn into a fun day date for the two of you.

When he finally gets away from the dolls he finds you at the main counter looking into the glass display while the clerk explains the jewelry inside.

“What’d you find?” He asks, bending directly in half to stare at the tray of rings in front of you.

“More teeth.” You give him an over the top smile that he returns, snapping his jaws at you while the poor woman behind the counter watches your flirting. She tells you prices instead of paying the two of you any mind and you hem and haw while Eddie just takes his wallet out to slide his card across the glass.

“Ed.” You don’t even look up at him when you warn him.

“Which one was it? Is it the big molar? It’s the big molar isn’t it?” He gives the clerk a scoff. “Can you believe this? I take her out here and she thinks I’m not buying her a tooth ring?”

In the cafe you’d found ahead of time you inspect your new ring while he chews on his straw, watching your rub the crown of the tooth.

“You really didn’t have to buy me this.” The barista comes over then with your coffee and a massive croissant. “Or that.”

“What? It’s a sweet treat for my sweet treat.” He tears a piece off and wiggles his eyebrows. “Also a sweet tooth for my sweet tooth.”

“Now you’re pushing it, Munson.”

“You love it.” He pauses when you kick his boot under the table and it turns into a violent round of footsie.

“Can I ask why teeth?”

“I don’t know. I just think they’re neat.” You shrug and fiddle with the ring on your middle finger. “They make a cool sound if you click a handful together. Very satisfying.”

“Yeah?” The smile is evident in his voice, even if you don’t look up to see it. “Sure there’s nothing else?” He goads, waiting for you to look up and narrow your eyes at him.

“And maybe I also want to crunch them like a sugar cube.” You make the exact face he thought you would and it makes him feel a warm coil of familiarity.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“I knew you wanted to do something weird with it.” His laugh turns into a cackle when you discreetly bring your hand up to click the ring against your front teeth.

“Okay so if it’s loose like…No I mean I can see it moving in the socket…ugh god, yeah…alright…” Your tone doesn’t give Eddie any hope and when you scrunch your face up while the dentist office tells you something longwinded, he sighs.

“How much? Oh shi- yeah okay. Thank you though.” You hang up and shoot him a steady look. “Guess.”

“I’m gonna loose it?” Eddie says, bag of frozen green beans held against his cheek.

“No shit.” You set your phone down and make your way to him leaned back on the couch. “You could potentially keep it for a cool $600 though.” Your hand replaces his on the slowly thawing bag and the sharp intake of breath isn’t from the new pressure on his bruise.

“$600 for one tooth?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck it, I’ll just pull it.” Eddie sighs at the ceiling and closes his eyes. He’d been fucking around, trying to swing his guitar around his shoulders during practice. Had actually managed a few turns but when you’d come to pick him up he wanted to show off. A fast toss over his shoulder and he didn’t see the corner of the body barreling for his cheek.

Your loud gasp and a lot of blood down his front later, he was in pain and slightly humiliated but definitely not out $600.

“Will you help me?” He gently rolls his head your direction, his cheek cradled between veggies and your palm.

“Of course.” You smile sadly at him. “It’s gonna hurt though.”

“Yeah but I like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you slap his chest, t-shirt still stained red.

“Come on, ladykiller.”

In the bathroom he braces his hands on the counter while you try to find the best angle to pull his tooth out at.

“I’m trying to not just have my whole fist in your mouth.”

“That’s hot.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie grins at your flat look. You blindly grab the pliers from behind you on the vanity and take a deep breath before holding his mouth open.

“Please don’t bite down.”

“Eye hot yuh yiked hat.” He’s drooling around your hand and trying to be cute. It’s unfortunately working on you.

“Not like this, no.”

He feels the pliers on his tooth, a gentle tug while you rearrange and then you look at him. Eyebrows scrunched and a concerned look in your eyes. “You okay?” He nods. “This is gonna hurt baby, I’m sorry.”

He barely has time to process what you’ve said. He was waiting for a count down but instead you’ve yanked once, swiftly and without remorse. There’s a small clatter where his tooth bounces around in the sink and then he feels the pulse of pain. A new rush of blood floods his mouth and he doubles over the sink to spit and moan.

“You didn’t even warn me!”

“You would have bitched out and you know it.” You rub his back while he pouts and keeps spitting into the sink. When you disappear to get him a glass of water, he rinses out the sink and picks up his tooth to inspect it. “What tooth is this anyways?”

“The tech said she thinks it’s a premolar from what I told her.” You answer as you come back into the cramped bathroom. He pulls his lip back to stare at the dark space between teeth.

“You don’t already know which one it is?”

You just roll your eyes. “She did say it was good that you didn’t crack it, could have been worse.” You shrug and Eddie holds out his hand to you, tooth sitting in the middle of his palm.

“It looks cool.” He says, rolling it around until you pick it up gingerly and inspect it. There’s a little bit of blood stuck in the root but you keep turning it over, running the pad of your finger over the ridges.

“You’re gonna keep it right?”

“Duh.” He laughs. You hand it back to him and help him clean up from his traumatic afternoon.

A couple of aspirin and a hot shower later and he’s ready for bed, just waiting on you to finish in the bathroom. He watches your shadow under the door where light seeps out and runs his tongue for the umpteenth time through the new space in his teeth. He’s not trying to make it worse but it’s a foreign void that he can’t stop fucking with. The bathroom door opens and you’re already staring at him, head cocked to the side. “I can see you tonguing that spot from over here.”

“You’ve got a spot I can tongue.”

You don’t respond, just turn off the lights on your way into the bedroom where you climb over him on the bed. Before you can drop onto your side he grabs your thighs to hold you above him.

“Thanks for not laughing at me.”

“You looked pretty cool, right up until you smashed your mouth.” You brace your hands on his chest and lean in close. “The blood really distracted me.”

“Yeah that was quite a bit.”

“Still hot.”

He grins and you can spot the missing tooth in the dark before he pulls you in by your chin to give you a kiss. When he opens his mouth to deepen it, your tongue immediately finds the new space like his had. He laughs into the kiss and sits up on his elbows to be closer. It’s a slow make out session that he has no intention of taking further, mostly delighting in you running your tongue along the inside of his mouth, probing.

“What are you laughing at?” You ask, annoyed at him huffing into your mouth.

“You keep trying to feel it with your tongue.” He grins at you in the dark, features highlighted by the light seeping in through the curtains.

“It’s a new spot in your mouth for me to tongue.” You mumble and Eddie says something about tonguing your new hole and it devolves into a slap fight that ends with you two sleepily kissing again.

For a few weeks his tooth kicks around the house in a little ring box you had laying around. Jokingly he stuffed a scrap of ribbon in it and called it a coffin, started giving a eulogy to it every night after dinner.

“Craig had the toughest job-“

“I thought he was Neville?”

“I changed it. Craig is a working man’s name.”

“In what country?”

“Coal country.” Eddie jokingly bangs his fist on the table and continues on about Craig and his 52 family members.

Wayne comes by for dinner and sees this little atrocity and just stares at it for a good while, you and Eddie tight lipped trying to not laugh at his blank expression.

“I don’t know what to expect when I come over here, ever.” He’s not judging, in fact he’s almost too accommodating when him and Eddie disappear after dinner for a smoke on the balcony and he gives his nephew pointers on what dremel bit to use so he doesn’t crack the tooth.

“A matching necklace? Christ Eddie don’t tell me you knocked out two teeth!”

“No! I bought the ring for her, this was just a mistake.” Eddie gestures at his mouth and Wayne chuckles at him.

“Always gotta show off.”

“For her? No shit. If I don’t, she’ll realize how much better she can do.”

Wayne tilts his head and fixes Eddie with a stern look. “You know how I feel about that.”

“I’m kidding.” He tries to wave him off.

“Well I’m not. Who else is gonna bring her home a tooth on a chain?” Eddie can see how that makes Wayne shudder, even when he’s trying to be forcefully reassuring. He pats his uncle on the knee before standing and stretching.

“True. There aren’t any many of my kind left.” He says it wistfully, staring off the balcony into the dark until Wayne huffs at him to get inside and help with the dishes.

The bit dies off and the ring box ends up on your nightstand. Eddie thinks it’s a pretty romantic gesture the way you’ve given it a prime spot next to your Dracula figure. He also knows you’ll notice it missing so he takes the tooth when he gets home before you and knocks the box over and when you notice he plays dumb.

“Oh no, did you knock it over?” “No I haven’t been in your nightstand.” “Why would I take it?”

He brings it with him to work and Wayne refuses to touch it, instead standing off to the side and letting Eddie drill the minuscule hole. He texts you on his lunch and tells you he’s got some extra stuff to take care of, running late, don’t worry about dinner. He uses the extra hour to run by the antique store and buy a chain and he gets so lucky because you’re in the shower when he finally comes home.

Ring box stolen from your drawer and left oh so carelessly in the middle of the counter next to your big water cup. He doesn’t even change out of his shop clothes, just sits and waits for you to come out.

When you do, you give him a kiss in passing and then stop short in the kitchen. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s this?” You hold up the small red box and gently shake it at him.

“I made you something in art class today.” He says bashfully and leans over the arm of the couch to dangle his arms while you laugh at him.

“Aw, did Mr. Munson help you with your finger painting?” You pout at him and he flips you off. Your laugh cuts off when you open the box to stare at the necklace.

“Is this your tooth?”

“Yeah, I lied.” He grins at you, “I staged the crime scene.”

“You scum.” Your giggle gets him off the couch, the scrunch of your face makes him cradle your jaw, your whispered ‘thank you’ earns you a kiss and before you can fumble with the chain he’s pulling it out of your hands to loop it around your neck. He does the clasp up and smooths a hand down over the tooth.

“Oh you make that look better than I ever did.” His dimples push through his warm smile. “Almost like it was made for you.”

“God you are laying it on thick today huh?”

“I mean it, everything I am is for you.” He holds you close while you fiddle with your new jewelry. It’s so small for such a significant thing, at least to you. Especially when he starts talking like that. Eddie notices your pensive turn and pulls his head back to look down at you.

“Did I…did I read this wrong? Is it too much?” He knows he’s bad at that sometimes. He knows you like this stuff but maybe wearing a familiar tooth is a step too far. Maybe it feels like a weight around your neck instead of a thin rope of silver. It’s his turn to get quiet and he tries to pull away but you latch on around his ribs.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me and it’s really weird and I love it a lot.” You mumble into his chest where your cheek is pressed tight. “Thank you.”

He watches you the rest of the night playing with it. Twirling your fingers through the chain and rolling the tooth around, staring down at it and once tapping it against your own teeth like you did with the ring. It gives him a new affection for you, to see you admire something he not only made you, but something that’s wholly him.

Later when he’s waiting for you in bed while you wander around and look for your phone, the intrusive thought he’d been keeping in finally breaks the surf of his mind.

“I’d knock out all my teeth for you.” He says it into the quiet and you pause at the foot of the bed to tilt your head at him.

“That’s so sweet.” You giggle quietly, the look you give him is contemplative.

“No I’m serious.” He leans up on his elbow to look you square in the eyes. “I’d hang ‘em all on a silver chain, drape them on you like pearls.” His stare gets a weight to it that makes you feel rooted to the spot. “I’d make you an altar out of them. Give them to you like little offerings.”

“You make it sound like I’m a deity you need to please.”

“Oh but you are.” He rolls up off his elbow to crawl towards the end of the bed and kneel in front of you. “Everything I do is in service to you and your good favor.” He splays a hand over his bare chest and you know he’s doing a thing but his wide eyed eagerness on his knees is doing it for you.

“And you’d hand over your teeth just for that?”

“I’d hand over my life.” He grabs your hand and presses it over his heart. “I’d leave imprints of my teeth all over you and then hand them over on a platter.”

“Why is this so hot?” You mutter at him, your body flush with heat suddenly.

“I know, keep playing along.” He whispers back, eyebrows twitching upwards. “I’m simply a vessel for your happiness and if that means sacrificing pieces of myself,” his hands settle up behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss, “then I’ll pull them all out by the root and leave them on the steps of your temple.” He keeps pulling you back until you have to catch yourself and climb over him, his lanky frame unfolding under you.

“Does that make you a patron or a priest?” You straddle his hips and break away from the kiss to stare at him, necklace dangling down against his cheek.

“I’m your most devoted follower.” He whispers in the small space between you two, eyes searching. “I’ve pledged my life to you.” His fingers dig in to your bare thighs. “Not for just a reward in the afterlife but in the hopes that you’ll grant me one look at your divine form.”

“Eddie!” You laugh at him and sit up, face and neck hot from his praise.

“What? I mean it! All of that for one…touch.” He slides his palms around to grab your ass and you laugh harder.

“That’s all you want? Just a touch?”

“Well maybe a long, continuous one.” He tries to slide his hands up further but you stop him at your hips. He looks determined to feel up your sides but your grip on his wrists holds tight.

“You wouldn’t want to anger your god now, would you?” His eyes widen at your sudden boldness. When you can tell he’ll sit still you unhand him to pull up the hem of your shirt slowly. “You give me a lifetime of servitude for a single touch?” Before you pull it over your head you give him a wicked a grin. “I’ll reward you with your single wish.”

He understands the game but his hands still twitch when you toss your shirt to the side, chest bared to him. You wiggle around until you get your underwear off, his hands still attached to you. He gets one touch and he won’t waste it, not now that you’re fully naked over him. You pull his boxers down, hands grazing sensitive skin and he pushes his head back into the pillow with a groan.

He clenches his jaw when you grind down on him, sliding over the head of his cock. His eyes rolling when you lean back and brace yourself on his thighs. You gasp with every roll of your hips and he whimpers.

“God damnit can I please touch you?” He grinds out through clenched teeth. The wet slide of your cunt has him breathing shallow and fast, the urge to buck up and fuck you settling low in the base of his spine. “C’mon, don’t I get some kind of fu-uck…” He stutters when your nails drag over his thighs. “You gotta show me some k-kind of mercy.”

“I’m already wearing a piece of you Eddie.”

His chest rises and falls, nostrils flared while he breaths heavy against his own willpower. The tattoos on his arms jump when he digs his fingers into your hips harder, an anchor he has to keep in place until you tell him he can move. “Why don’t you show me just how devoted you are?”

His first instinct, his first want, is to push you back and hold you down and make you sob about it. He’d like to hitch your legs up over his hips and make you remember the feeling of him deep inside for a few days.

But that’s not how you treat a goddess.

He slides his hands up your back with care when he sits up, his lips pressing softly into the space between your breast. He kisses up and over the necklace, warmed by your skin under it. Kisses up your neck until he has to pull your head down to meet his lips again. His fingers don’t grasp like they did a moment ago. They dance light over your skin, along the edge of your hair. They trace up under your jaw and over your cheeks, down your nose. He follows their path with his mouth, gentle kisses following gentle touch.

Your hips don’t move as rapid as they were and he uses it to his advantage. He presses up until he hears that gasp when he breaches you, soft heat clenching around his cock almost enough to set him off. He basks in the moment too long and you try to move your hips down against his but he makes a sound of protest, something in the back of his throat like a whine. “Give me a second, I’m having a moment with divinity.”

Your laugh travels through you, vibrations under his palms when you test his resolve again. Another gentle roll and he lays his face into the crook of your neck to mouth at you. Tongue running flat up the tendon on display when your head tips back and he finally buries himself fully. Your fingers wind in his hair while he snakes a hand between you, thumb finding your clit and you both groan when your movements speed up. He’s already too close, got himself all wound up in the role play but he needs you to finish first to put a nice bow on this evening.

“Y’really like it?” He pants against you.

“Of c-course I do.”

“Y’gonna wear it every day?” You nod and whine when he puts more pressure on his thumb. “Let everyone know what kind of freak you are.” You keep nodding and grinding down on him and that line of heat licks up his spine fast. “Gonna show everyone aren’t you?” He can feel your thighs trembling around his hips, knees digging in on every downward movement. “C’mon baby, wanna see it.” It takes him a lot of effort to pull his head up to watch you. Your chin tilted up, mouth hung open and panting, all for him. He can feel the tension building in you and can see the crease between your brows. The low whine that crawls out of your throat and goes on and on when he finally hits your peak.

He huffs, almost laughing at the way you break, amazed as always at the way you react to him. You sit flush against him and grind and pull his hair and his eyes roll back in his head, a line of curses spilling out of his lips that you catch with your own. He comes fast and hot, the edges of his vision going spotty while you keep his head steady and swallow all his grunts. In his foggy thoughts he can feel you run your tongue over the new space in his mouth, the feeling just foreign enough that it makes him shiver before he laughs again at your interest.

It takes a moment for you both to come down, you slouching into Eddie and making him fall back against the pillows, still out of breath.

“So I take it I’ve won your favor.” He grins up at the ceiling, running his hand over your back.

“You keep calling me a god, you can have whatever you want.” You roll on your side and nuzzle up under his outstretched arm.

“Don’t teeth have something to do with prosperity?” He snaps his fingers behind your head. “With all these new adornments, we’re gonna be swimmin’ in it baby.”

“Oh so that’s why you worship me, for my money!” You poke his side hard enough he flinches and curls around you suddenly, locking you into a hug and pinning you down on the bed. His lips brush your ear when he speaks lowly to you. “I worship you because you deserve it, the prosperity is a perk.” He keeps you close for a while until you both get too hot, sticky skin separating under cool sheets. He still has to touch you though and his foot finds yours while he reaches over to play with your necklace.

“I’m glad you’re cool with this.”

“I’m glad you’re cool with this.” You laugh. “We could have been having a much different evening otherwise.”

(Sacrifice for the read more)

[trashcanfanfics]

might I request some headcanons for ford (young and old) w/ a reader who’s a witch (like from the boiling isles) and has their own place in the woods? they’re known as the witch of the woods and there are stories from local teens about how they’ll “steal your bones if you get too close to their house,” but they’re actually really nice and will make you lunch if you stop by.

please, and thank you 🔮

Man, do I love this idea!! I immediately started thinking of a little ficlet/imagine/scenario

Reader gender not mentioned, could be any gender

This turned out longer than I thought it would

I'd exiled myself to earth a bit ago in response to the ban on wild witches. It was easier for me to leave than to fight back then. I could probably go back anytime, but I'd rather not be forced to pick one coven.

It wasn't all bad here. The rain didn't burn, plants didn't move on their own or try to eat me. I loved the green color of the landscape and my palisman, Gretch, enjoyed the fresh air. The locals were friendly enough, and the children were curious.

I'd noticed that they were wary of me and my strange abilities. To combat this, I'd just make warm beverages and small meals for anyone traveling farther into the woods near my little cabin.

It was on my way home from the human store that I met him. A man stuck in the root of a tree. One of mine, unfortunately. In a moment of homesickness, I'd planted a seed from the Boiling Isles near my home, and this particular one was a grasping willow. A sigh escaped me, loud enough for my surprise captive to hear. He turned towards me, seeming to forget his foot was stuck, causing him to fall over. The man winced.

"I'm sorry for my tree, sir." I swirled my pointer finger into a circle of green. The root lifted and moved from his ankle. "He's just a bit playful." I set my bags down to offer him my hand. He hesitated, looking at my hand before reaching up and taking the offered help. Once he was up, I shook his hand with a smile and introduced myself.

"Nice to meet you," he quickly took his hand back and cleared his throat, "my name is Stanford Pines, though people call me Ford."

"Wonderful to meet you, Ford." I picked my bags back up and faced him again. "I have groceries to put away, so I have to go. Try walking in a wide circle to avoid Snipper if you're walking around here."

"Oh, uh, thank you for the advice." He waved awkwardly and turned to leave. I chuckled slightly and went on my own way. Gretch sniffed the air in his direction before hiding back into my cloak. They whispered to me about the stranger's smell as I walked back home.

~*~

Ford came around more often after that. He asked many questions, and I answered. I asked fewer questions but received more answers. He was eager to talk and learn, and I was grateful for the company. Ford became a part of my routine in the best way. We'd meet up for lunch at either mine or his cabin and tell me what he's found. His theories enthralled me. I'd developed quite the soft spot for him and missed him when he wasn't around. My palisman teased me endlessly about it, but stopped once I'd mention how they liked to curl up on his lap as he talked.

He'd started coming around less and less. I wondered what new oddity he was occupied with to take up all his time. Gretch had been keeping watch over him and hadn't seen much since they couldn't get into the cabin. Whenever he did visit, he was...distant. There were bags beneath his eyes, an erratic fear, and paranoia took over his voice, even when it was just a whisper. I was worried and told him as such. He'd stood abruptly from the living room couch, making poor Gretch leap to the floor, and looked at me for the first time in months.

"There's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine, everything's fine!" His eye twitched. I blinked a few times in shock at his outburst. My hands flew up in a placating manner.

"Okay, okay," I lowered my hands and held them out to him palm up, "how about I make you your favorite tea, hm?" His eyes lowered to my hands before placing his own in them. I gently squeezed his hands for exactly six seconds before standing up and leading him to the kitchen. He followed me as I moved around to make the tea. Gretch stayed close to him, attempting to comfort him. The kettle boiled and I pulled it off before the whistle blew. We both watched the tea steep for a few seconds before Ford wrapped me in a hug from behind. His head rested against me as he shook.

~*~

"I think...I think I did something very bad, and you won't forgive me." His voice cracked. I looked up from the soup I was serving to look at him. He was looking at his hands.

"I suppose that's a valid concern. Although, I can't say whether I would or wouldn't if I don't know what it is." I set the ladle down and grabbed the tray holding the bowls. "For what it's worth, there is very little you can do that I wouldn't be able to forgive." I set the tray on the table and set a bowl in front of him, then Gretch's, before sitting down my with my own.

"I..." He stared at the soup. "I care for you deeply, and I don't want you to be mixed up in my mistakes." His eyes were tired when they looked at me. My breath caught in my chest as I stared back. My palisman stopped slurping to to look up at both me and Ford.

"Is that what you're asking me to forgive? You caring deeply for me?" I looked down at my own soup, stirring it slightly. My heart raced as his words filled my mind. "If that's a thing in need of forgiveness, then I beg for yours in return." I look back at him with a small smile. His brow furrowed.

"That's not the point I'm making." Ford ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his forehead. "I've made a mistake that could put you in danger. Out of everything that's happened to me, you've been the best. I don't want to lose you." He pulled out a book from his bag. One of his journals. He slid the book over to me. Gretch leaned over the tray to sniff it before recoiling. I blinked and looked at him.

"Ford, what--" I was cut off by him rounding the table and kneeling beside me. He grabbed my hands in both of his and looked me in the eye, more serious than he'd ever been with me. Gretch, wanting a better view, crawled over the table to be beside me.

"Take this journal and hide it. Take it as far from here as possible. Go and never come back. Please." His voice trembled. "I don't want him to get you."

"Who? Who is going to get me? What aren't you telling me?" I pulled my hands from his to hold his face, tears brimming my eyes. "Ford, tell me what's going on, why do I have to leave? What will happen to you once I do?" Tears poured down my face as I bit back a sob. I'd been so worried about him, about why he'd been so distant. Then he was asking me to leave. Leave Gravity Falls, my home, the only person besides my palisman I trusted fully with all my heart. I didn't want to go.

"I can't tell you. Please, believe me, it's safer this way." Ford reached for my face, eyes flitting back between my own. He leaned in and kissed me softly, barely a whisper on my lips. My eyes shut, allowing more tears to fall. I pushed into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and deepened the kiss.

"I can't leave you." I said against his lips as we both pulled back slightly. I kissed him again. "I can't leave you, Ford." Our foreheads were pressed against each other.

"You have to." He pulled away and stood up. He grabbed his bag and turned to leave. Gretch chased after him immediately. I watched him go for a second, tears still falling down my face, before grabbing the book, and running after him. Grabbing the strap of his bag, I pulled him back.

"If you're going, then take this with you. I won't be part of something i don't know about." I shoved the book into his chest and glared at him through my tears. He looked at the book and then me before steeling his gaze. He shoved the book back into his bag and left. The front door closed, and I made my way back to the kitchen, Gretch following sadly behind. The soup had gone cold.

~*~

We hadn't spoken in a month. Four weeks. Thirty days. I went to his cabin to see him but his friend, Fiddleford McGucket, was on his way out and warned me to stay away from Ford.

"For your own sake." He said, rushing to his truck, bags in tow. "He's gone insane." I'd still knocked on his door for the next week. No reply. Gretch continued to keep an eye out and told me whatever they deemed relevant.

The next three I wallowed in my grief. Moping around the house, not taking care of my plants, or myself. I could barely brush my teeth or eat. My body odor followed me like a cloud. Days blurred together. Gretch tried to help me, but they were just as upset. Eventually, I had to go out to get more groceries.

On the way to the store, in my sweatpants, hooded sweater and muddy boots, I passed by Ford's cabin flying low to the ground on Gretch. As I looked towards it, my heart clenching painfully, the trees began to shake. I looked around in confusion as Gretch and I slowed to a stop. Then back to the cabin. The basement windows lit up a bright blue. Before I could stop myself, I flew straight towards the door, using my magic to unlock it. Bursting into the foyer, down the steps to the basement, I saw two figures.

There was Ford and someone else who looked like him. Stanley, his twin brother. Ford had told me about him. Ford was floating in the air, waving his limbs around, trying not to get pulled into a giant machine glowing with the light I'd seen outside.

"Ford!" I yelled, running to help him. Gretch almost reached him as he screamed his brother's name. He was sucked into the portal faster than I could cast a spell. "FORD!" I fell to my knees in front of the portal, next to where Stanley was standing. He was gone. My tears became my closest friends in the past weeks. These ones felt different. They hurt more, like daggers down my cheeks. He was gone. My friend, the one I adored and trusted the most. Gone. I sobbed out his name again, looking at the ground, Getch placed their head into my lap.

"Uh, are you...Did you...know my brother?" The voice made me jump. I turned to Stanley. I'd forgotten he was here in my anguish. I sniffed and wiped my face on my sleeve.

"Yes. He was my friend."

~*~

Ford had been gone for 30 years. After he'd been taken through the portal, Stan and I began a sort of friendship. He was brash and rude, his voice was gruff. He was different from Ford in so many ways, but so similar. Our friendship wasn't like the one with Ford. It was less lunch dates and more I'd bring him meals and take him shopping.

He'd convinced a crowd of shoppers that he was the mysterious scientist in the cabin while he was shopping by himself one day. I'd gotten very angry at him and refused to talk to him for a week after that. Eventually, I came around to it, realizing that he does need to make money somehow.

In time, the "Mystery Shack", as Stan called it, became quite profitable. People were attracted to its unbelievable aura. Personally, I found most of Stan's grotesque attractions to feel like home. I'd known someone who looked like the "Eyeball with Legs" back in the Boiling Isles. Gretch was glad Stan never asked them to be an exhibit. Sometimes, I feel as though Stan took inspiration from my stories.

It was summer when the twins came to Gravity Falls. Stan told me I wasn't allowed to do magic or talk to them about the strangeness in our little town. I told him that I wasn't going to hide who I was from anyone, and if he had a problem with it, don't let them go out by my cabin. We had a heated argument about that. I had resolved to not speak, or even go looking for him or anyone from the Shack that whole summer.

Of course, that didn't stop them from looking for me. Apparently, Ford had written about me in his third journal, and Dipper had stumbled across it. It lead them both to my doorstep with a gentle knock on the door.

"Hello?" As I opened the door, I saw two children, tweens, it seemed. The girl was holding a video camera at my face. "Oh!" They looked familiar almost.

"Uh, hi, uh..." The boy ruffled through a familiar book. I realized then who I must've been talking to. This must be Dipper and Mabel. The Pines' genetics must have been strong, they looked just like their great uncles. "Are you the witch of the woods?" His question made me laugh slightly. Gretch poked their head out the door to sniff at the children, causing the girl to gasp and coo at them, holding a hand out. I debated telling them both to leave, but it had been a while since I'd had company. Besides, it was getting a bit dark, and the woods were dangerous for children to go out into.

"That's what the townsfolk call me, yes." I gestured for them to come inside. "Would you like some tea?" The girl quickly came in with an excited smile. She was already petting and baby-talking Gretch. I chuckled.

"Oh, you're so cute! What's your name?" She looked around my living room and gasped. "I love your curtains!" She raced over to touch them before her brother stopped her, scolding her in a hushed tone. I smiled at them before going into the kitchen with Gretch in tow. They followed soon after.

"I'm not going to eat you, despite what the other children might say." I grabbed three tea cups and started the stove. "I don't do much other than tend to my plants and feed hikers that come by." I placed teabags into a teapot.

"So you're...not a witch?" The boy asked. I laughed again and ushered them to sit at the table. The girl gasped at the center piece. A lovely potted plant of flowers Ford had gifted me a long time ago. They were spring flowers, so they had stopped blooming. I smiled fondly at them.

"What kind of plant is this?" She touched the leaves gently. "It's so pretty."

"They're called shooting stars." I swirled my pointer finger in a green circle, causing the flowers to glow green as well and bloom. Gretch sniffed them, then sneezed. "They're normally a spring flower, but I'm able to keep them going with the sunroof in place and a bit of magic.

"So you are a witch!" The boy yelled. The kettle whistled and I quickly went to stop it. "This is incredible! Mabel! Did you catch that on video?" His sister, Mabel, looked at the camera, which had been placed facing away from the plant, towards a window.

"Whoops." She fixed the camera to face the flowers, which had ceased glowing and sat, bloomed, but otherwise non magical. He groaned in frustration and looked at me.

"Would you do that again? For the camera?" He gestured to the technology. I finished making the tea and brought it over, giving them each a cup.

"I would," I sat down in my own chair, "but the flowers are already bloomed, dear." I took a sip and set it back down. Looking at him with a small smile full of humor. Gretch huffed in their form of laughter. Ford had always called me a smart ass.

"Darnit!" He put his head on the table. Mabel reached over and patted his back before taking a sip of her tea. She hummed in delight at the taste and finished the cup in a few gulps. I offered her more, which she gladly accepted, drinking more before scratching Gretch on the head. The palisman leaned into her hand.

"I could do something else for your, oh, what are you needing the footage for, Dipper?" My question made his head shoot up. He looked at me in surprise. I realized that I'd called him his name before he'd told me.

"How do you know my name?" His eyes widened. "Do you read minds?" I was already shaking my head before he finished. Gretch huffed another laugh.

"I know your uncle, is all." I held my hand up to stop both of their questions. "Stan and I are, well, I suppose you could call us friends."

"Are you two in a relationship? Are you in love?" Mabel stood on her chair, her hands planted on the table as she leaned towards me. I scrunched my face in slight disgust even thinking about being with Stan. My palisman sneezed and shook their head.

"Absolutely not." I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Not even if he begged." The very idea of Stan being who I came home to made me very uncomfortable. Besides...I still dreamed of Ford. I regretted that our first and only kiss was when he was leaving. Maybe if I'd been braver in the beginning, said something sooner, he'd still be here. Maybe it'd have chased him away earlier than he did.

"Um, witch...sir? Ma'am? Sma'mir?" Mabel's voice drew me out of my reverie. I blinked and looked at her. She tilted her head in confusion.

"Pardon, I was leagues away. Did you say something, dear?" I looked at the clock to see the time. "Oh, that might have to wait. You two need to get home." I stood and ushered them to the living room where I grabbed my warmest shawls. They would have to do, my coats were buried in the hall closet. I wrapped one around Mabel, as she was the closest, so that it covered her head. when I turned to do the same to Dipper, he refused.

"I'll be fine, I don't need it." He held up his hands and I put mine on my hips. My eyebrow arched as I gave him a look that said this wasn't an argument. Gretch went behind him and gently nudged him towards me.

"It gets cold at night, especially in the woods." I quickly threw it over his shoulders and over his head like his sister. Mabel giggled as she pointed the camera at us. Dipper's frown deepened as his cheeks reddened. "I won't have you catch a chill on my watch. It'll just be another thing for Stan to b-ahem, yell about." With them properly bundled, I wrapped myself up and had Gretch turn into a staff. Both children gasped.

"I definitely got that on video." Mabel said as I waved them both to get on. Mabel in front of me and Dipper behind, I took off, up and over the trees. The twins both yelled out, though I suspected for different reasons.

As we walked up the porch, the door swung open to reveal Stan himself. He looked from both of the twins then to me. His eyes darkened slightly.

"I told you not to talk to them!" He pushed them both behind him and pointed a finger at me. "You said you wouldn't!" His glare matched mine. I pushed his hand out of my face and lifted my chin.

"Children, cover your ears." I spared them a glance to see them do so. My finger replaced his between us. "They were deep in those damn woods at dusk! I wouldn't have had to take them home if you had been doing your fucking job of keeping them safe! No wonder they're up to their goddamned knees in the supernatural of this fucking town!"

"How much did you tell them, what did you tell them?!" He got closer to me, dangerously so. I pointed my palisman staff towards him as a barrier. "So help me, if you told them-!" That made me scoff.

"Oh, please, I didn't tell them anything." I scoffed and waved my other hand to dismiss the thought. "Do you have such little faith in me? After all these years?" A sigh left my lips as I shook my head.

"Just stay away from them!" He pointed a finger at me again. "They don't need to be involved with all this weirdness." His statement made me roll my eyes and I turned to leave.

"They're already too invested in the weirdness, Stanley." I turned my head to look back at him over my shoulder, mounting my palisman. "They won't end up like him in one summer, but if you're that worried, keep them out of the woods." With that, I took off into the sky.

~*~

The children clearly didn't listen to Stan, if he told them to stay away from me. They came around my home every few days or so, asking me about myself and the woods surrounding. I'd been vague about my friendship with Ford, for Stan's sake if nothing else. Gretch enjoyed their company, especially Mabel's. She would bring the palisman snacks and plenty of affection. Waddles and Gretch became fast friends when the pig was brought along as well.

Mabel had latched onto my story of him and was sobbing by the time I'd told her he was gone and I'd never see him again. Dipper also seemed disappointed, wanting to meet the scientist. He'd asked if I was talking about the author of the journals. I'd told him no. Gretch whined at that, clearly frustrated I wouldn't tell them anything. I just shooed her away.

They told me about their adventures and a figure named Bill. I'd sat eagerly by, hearing about their encounters. They had been in danger multiple times over the summer and I'd nearly gone to shout at Stan some more before they said they didn't want him to know. I explained to them that not telling Stan was a mistake. He is their guardian for the summer and needed to know where they were so he could help if needed. They disagreed and went home. I'd asked Gretch to watch over them for a while to make sure they weren't in too much danger.

It was sometime after Mabel's sock opera when the kids invited me over. Well, more Mabel did, with Stan's permission. Though the man had been rather grumpy over the phone. I was amused by Mabel's antics and agreed, soon making my way over there. Gretch sniffed the air and shook their head, rubbing their nose.

"Oh hush, I'm sure Stan can't stink that bad from out here." I joked before knocking on the door. "Should we invest in nose plugs for you?" The door opened before they could retort. Mabel squealed when she saw me and pulled me into the cabin and to the living room.

"You're going to love this guy, trust me," She squealed again, "I'm a master match maker." I laughed at her enthusiasm. She was determined to have me meet someone. The only time she'd stopped was when she'd found out Stan had a crush on Lazy Susan.

"Mabel, I've told you already that I'm perfectly fine on my own. I really should stop ind--" I looked up to see the unfortunate suitor this time. My eyes widened and my heart stopped. I knew the figure instantly. Despite the wrinkles, my dreams made sure I'd never forget his face. "Ford?" His eyes widened as he recognized me. He said my name in a whisper. Gretch wasted no time in throwing themselves at him, circling and sniffing and bumping into him. He huffed a laugh and pet them gently.

"I didn't forget you either." He looked up from the palisman back to me. "I'd thought you'd have left Gravity Falls." His other hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch me. I couldn't hold back, I ran to him and wrapped him in a hug. The tears that had been building up overflowed.

"I told you I couldn't." I felt his arms slowly hug me back. He squeezed me gently and buried his face into my neck. I gave him one more squeeze before pulling back slightly to look up at him. Our eyes met and I smiled brighter than I'd had in years. He returned the gesture. "I'm glad you're back." Tears continued to slide down my face and I sniffed.

"You knew each other?!" Mabel's voice broke us both out of our little bubble. "What?!" She turned to Dipper, who'd just walked in, and shook him by his shoulders screaming about how this is a better story than the Dusk series. Dipper, having pulled himself from his sister's grasp, looked at me and Ford, still in an embrace. Mabel ran out of the room to go tell Stan.

"...When I asked if the person you were talking about was the author of the journals..." He furrowed his brows. I hesitantly pulled myself fully from Ford's arms and cleared my throat.

"I lied, yes." My hand was already up to stop him from asking questions or comment on my dishonesty. "Stan had asked me not to, it would have caused problems if you knew." The boy looked displeased with my answer.

"That's what Grunkle Stan said, too." He crossed his arms. "It's stupid! If we knew, we could have helped rebuild the portal and get Great Uncle Ford back!" His statement had Ford opening his mouth, but I was faster.

"Now, that's enough, young man!" I put one hand on my hip and pointed a finger at him. He jumped and his eyes widened. I'd never raised my voice at either of the twins before. "Stan is a ridiculously infamous liar, but this time he did out of necessity. You weren't there to see what happened after Ford was sucked into that portal, he was dealing with the grief of losing his brother and while I'm going to have very strong words with him out of earshot of you kids about rebuilding that machine, it's understandable how he went about things." Gretch sneezed, huffed and then looked away. I raised an eyebrow at them and put my other hand on my other hip. They gazed right back at me and yawned before laying down nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes. They never truly liked Stan. Ford laughed slightly at mine and Gretch's wordless exchange. I turned to him with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. He only shook his head fondly.

"You're defending him?" Dipper stuck up his chin, ignoring the palisman. "I thought you guys didn't like each other..." A sigh escaped me at that. I crossed the room, pulled out a chair to the card table before sitting down. Ford followed to stand next to me, my heart swelled at the thought that he was here. Actually back.

"Stan and I don't always see eye to eye," I began, watching Dipper join me at the table, "but, well, I helped him for the first few months after the incident. With the portal, I mean. We looked through the research we had to figure it out."

"You helped with that?" Ford looked incredulous. "Why? It was dangerous!" His outburst made me look at him with a huff. Gretch snuffed out a laugh and made themself comfortable on the old yellow chair.

"I was getting to that." This seemed to placate him as he closed his mouth and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Anyway, I had been helping him, reading through the only journal we had, before I'd looked at everything and used my oracle abilities to try and track down any others. I'd had a vision in my crystal of what would happen if I helped further and told Stan what I'd seen."

"I'm guessing he didn't believe you?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes. I smiled at how the resemblance he had to Stan in that moment.

"He rolled his eyes just like that when I told him. Stan's always been a stubborn bas--ahem, man." I snickered, glancing at Ford and winking when our eyes met. His face reddened "It's a family trait, I've noticed."

"I'd hardly call myself stubborn." Ford crossed his arms and looked away. "It's not stubbornness when you're right." His defensiveness made me bark out a laugh. His face deepened in color as he refused to look at me.

"Okay, and when you told him what would happen and he didn't believe you, you stopped helping?" Dipper put his arms on the table and leaned towards me, eagerly waiting for the rest of the story.

"Well...not exactly." I looked off to the side, thinking how to phrase my words. "I mean, I stopped helping with the portal, yes, but I stayed until the Shack became more popular. In the beginning of the change, I understood needing the money, but the more ridiculous it became, the more I felt like it was wrong. We'd gotten into a huge fight over it. There's been tension ever since."

"So you and Gruncle Stan were never together?" Mabel's voice made me jump. I looked to see her sitting on the floor and Stan leaning against the yellow chair Gretch had fallen asleep in. He looked at Mabel in confusion. I rubbed my hand on my forehead and sighed.

"Mabel. I've told you this." I looked at Stan and scrunched my nose, he rolled his eyes, his arms crossed. "I have never, and I mean ever, considered Stan anything more than an unlikely friend." I looked at her and shook my head.

"Yeah, they're not my type anyway." He snickered. It was my turn to roll my eyes before crossing my own arms. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yes, his type is anything twenty years younger and doesn't have enough wits to realize he isn't as funny as he thinks he is." I smirked at the indignant noise he made at my jab. "Or a spider." My last comment made Dipper and Mabel laugh as Stan's face grew red.

"Hey! She didn't look like a spider at the time!" He grumbled and looked back down at Gretch, poking them to try and get them to move. They growled in response. "How do you even know about that?" He looked at the kids and then grumbled under his breath again.

"Besides," I looked at Mabel, "I have my eye on only one person. I have since I first met him." Her eyes sparkled as she looked between me and Ford. Dipper looked exasperated.

"Is he Great Uncle Ford?!" She stood up and pointed at us both. I chuckled at her enthusiasm. Ford looked at her, his mouth agape and cheeks red. Dipper rolled his eyes, but seemed interested as he eyed both me and Ford with interest.

"Yes." I smiled at him as he already opened his mouth, words spilling out before he could register what I said.

"That's hardly an appropriate thing to say--" He stopped and looked at me. "Did you say yes?" He was staring at me in amazement. I could see Stan gagging in my peripheral vision. Mabel giggled and Dipper started writing down on a piece of paper.

"I did." I raised my eyebrow at Ford. "Did you forget about that kiss? I'm a bit insulted." He blinked and cleared his throat, looking away. His face was so red, I thought he was going to faint from the blood rush.

"No!" He cleared his throat again. "No, I just...I didn't think..." His gaze softened and he reached out to cup my face. I leaned in, keeping eye contact as he rubbed a thumb over my cheek. My hand reached up and held his there.

"Ugh, gross. Get a room." We both looked at Stan who gagged again. "At least take it outside." I rolled my eyes again and stood up, bringing Ford's hand from my face to hold between us. He looked at me as I reached up my own hand to bring his face closer to mine. At long last, I kissed him. He made a muffled noise of surprise but quickly leaned into the kiss. Stan and Dipper both groaned as Mabel cheered. I pulled back and looked Ford in the eyes.

"I wish I'd told you sooner," I leaned in and gave him another kiss, "I love you Stanford Pines."

~*~

Weirdmageddon had been concluded, the twins, both sets, safe and sound. Dipper and Mabel had their birthday before saying goodbye. I'd cried as I hugged them. They'd each received a charm of good luck. Ford and Stan had decided to sail around the world, inviting me to join them. I'd told them I'd let them catch up for a few years before setting sail with them. I'd be here when they came back during the summers.

"Are you sure? We don't mind, really." Ford had encouraged, but I shook my head with a smile. Stan shrugged his shoulders with a small smile.

"Yeah, it'd be nice to have a powerful witch aboard." He smacked a hand on my shoulder. I laughed and patted his hand. He moved it back to his side.

"I'm sure you boys can handle yourselves. Besides, I've waited this long." I looked at Stan then Ford. Gretch huffed and sat firmly next to Ford, daring me to try and stop her from going. "Fine by me, Gretch. Go on with them, I'll see you in a few years."

"It doesn't have to be years..." Ford looked down at them with a sheepish smile. "You could join us at the end of next summer." Stan gave a noise of agreement.

"Yeah!" Stan gave me a nudge. "It'd be nice to catch up with you, too." We had gained some of our friendship back during the apocalypse and I was glad for it. I smiled and shook my head fondly.

"Alright, fine." They both smiled at my confirmation. "Send me letters in the meantime." Stan agreed and went to say one more goodbye to his protege, Soos, before getting the car. Gretch huffed and walked off, deciding to stay with me after all. Ford stepped closer to me, gently cupping my face in one of his hands. We both leaned in and kissed. Stan drove up and honked the horn, causing us to reluctantly part.

"I promise to write." He gave me one more kiss before getting into the car and they both drove off. I kept waving until they were out of sight.

"See you next summer." I said before heading back home with Gretch. My heart felt full.

[another-lost-mc]

Thinking about his demon form horns.

Barbatos x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Fluff and kissing, slightly suggestive at the end. 0.6k words.

You’re fascinated by the winged horns that sprout between dark green hair when Barbatos shifts into his demon form. You’re intrigued. They look so pretty and delicate, but non-functional—or so you think.

When you get to know Barbatos better, it’s easier to read the emotions he masks with bland smiles that don’t reach the sharp glint in his eyes. Sometimes it looks like his horns twitch as the bony ends curl ever so slightly as his eyes flash with disapproval or annoyance. No one else seems to notice them but you. If he catches you staring, you shake your head and look away. He doesn’t talk about them, and you don’t ask about them either.

Maybe you were just seeing things?

Over time, you’re convinced that his little horns do move on their own at times. Your theory is proven the first time he kisses you, and you learn they can do more than twitch. He’s wearing his RAD uniform, his horns and tail nowhere to be seen. His eyes dart down to your lips as his face draws closer. His lips are a little dry, but they’re still soft and so warm when they touch yours. A small whimper escapes you, and he hums in response.

It only takes a few moments for you to notice a noise that you don’t recognize. It's just loud enough to hear over the sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest and the slick sounds of his lips gliding against yours. His gloved fingers dig into your waist to keep you from moving away when you reluctantly break the kiss and look around curiously. Your eyes widen when you realize the little wings sprouted from the crown of his head are fluttering.

A pink blush dusts his cheeks because he knows what you’re staring at; surely you must understand the significance of that little quirk of his by now.

Later on, he'll think about the implications that he was so distracted by you that he shifted forms without realizing it—have you always affected him this much? 

You suspect he’s embarrassed that he can’t seem to control their actions, but your heart beats a little faster for him too—he's so precious. You slide your hands into his hair—gently, to avoid touching the base of his horns because you know he doesn’t like that—and you curl your fingers along the back of his scalp.

There’s a soft rumble in his chest and he leans forward, kissing you more passionately than before. His tongue teases the seam of your lips, begging silently for entrance. He deepens the kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth and seeking out your exquisite taste. His little wings continue to flutter excitedly—they disperse the delicate scent of his shampoo into the air.

It feels like he unknowingly shared an intimate secret with you. You seem to like his little oddities, and even though he still finds them annoying at times, he learns to appreciate them more because you do.

If you notice his horns twitch slightly as his voice grows sharp with disapproval, you know he’s desperately trying to contain anger or frustration he normally conceals from the world—you make a note to talk to him about it later in the privacy of his bedroom.

They still flutter sometimes when you have sweet moments with him too: eating lunch together during a rare break from his duties; when you dance together at one of Diavolo’s parties, the overwhelming fondness in his gaze making his eyes shimmer like molten emeralds; or when he slides down the bed and pries your legs apart, eyes darker now with desire when he flicks out his tongue to taste you.

He hides his devilish smile when your fingers slide into his hair. You’re still careful not to disturb the base of his delicate horns—the ones tickling you as they flutter wildly between your thighs.

Read more: Barbatos Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

[comicaurora]

tldr I committed to a bit too hard

The slow-dawning sunlight dappled down through dense, rich foliage, scattering golden lace across mossy trunks and grassy hillocks. The light caught on the forest floor in a thousand glassy dewdrops and bent, fisheyed, in globed inversions of the canopy above.

No breeze stirred the forest so early in the morning, but a thin mist gathered in the valley under the warming air. Sunbeams lanced through the fog, pale in the dawn but soon to brighten and intensify. For now, the air was damp and cool and still, and the scent of the night lingered.

Pip bent a pawful of grass to the side and sniffed the air suspiciously.

It was too quiet, too still. And with no wind, she couldn't mark the position of the strange beasts and their odd, dusty, acrid scent that had no place in these woods. It hung low and directionless over the peaceful morning, distant but permeating, like a faraway fire.

She adjusted her backslung blade, wrapped her cloak closer around her and dropped onto all fours, nose pointed straight ahead and whiskers standing at attention. Her dusty green-gray wrap would shield her from all but the most attentive prying eyes, and - she quirked an ear, just to be sure of the silence - most of the forest was still asleep, unlikely to mark her passage.

She managed to stifle a flinch as a sound that wasn't a sound bypassed her ears and rang straight into her head.

Pip? Where'd you go?

She exhaled softly through her nose, the barest expression of frustration she allowed herself.

Scouting, Alder. Go back to sleep.

She set off before he could reply, scurrying silently along the mossy forest floor, tracing a sinuous route through the canopy's shadow to stay out of the slow-brightening sunbeams.

Scouting?!

The thought squeaked with disbelief. She didn't answer it.

Alder never had fewer than three thoughts at a time, and the more agitated he became, the harder they became to sort through. A jumble rang in her skull, a snatch of Eldest told us- and moves like thunder and have to hide, that last one echoing in six different ways with the significance it held in his mind. She concentrated on tracing her silent route, one shadow to the next, and came to a stop under a broad-leafed stalk as Alder's distress built to a crescendo.

If she kept moving, eventually she'd slip out of his range. Wasn't that a tempting thought.

I said go back to sleep, she sent, and with an afterthought of inexpert kindness, added I'm being careful. It'll be fine.

The chattering ground to a halt, and she felt the effort it took him to focus his thoughts down to a single thread. Come back, Pip. We have to stay hidden until they're all gone.

We can't hide if we don't know where they are.

Pip caught the beginning of his protest and shook herself violently, breaking off the connection. It was rude, she knew; closing her mind completely was one of her rarer talents, but unlike her other oddities, this one she wasn't particularly respected for. Her skills as a scout were admired precisely because she had such sharp senses, physical and mental both - some days she could even hear the slow, tangled thoughts of the Long Shadows - but when she didn't want to be disturbed, she could wall herself off from the others as thoroughly as if she'd been on the other side of the forest.

And right now, picking her way between treetrunks and sniffing her way towards the bizarre menagerie that had invaded her forest, the last thing she wanted was to be disturbed.

Her right forepaw sank in unexpectedly soft soil, and she recoiled with a stifled gasp. Her eyes darted across the swath of ground, analyzing its shape - and then she widened her scope, scanning the yards beyond that first strange softness. In a low-lying, hollowed track between two thick-rooted trees, the carpet of grass and flowers were flattened and crushed into a felted mat, mud bubbling through it in irregular patches like sickness in a wound. A wide track had been beaten into the soil by dozens - at least dozens, she amended - of flat-pawed creatures. Their dusty, acrid stink lay heavily over it.

She drew back from the unnaturally soft soil. Even with her diminutive size and weight, there was the risk of getting mired in unexpectedly watery ground, and while rescue was never far away in these woods, she certainly didn't want to weather Alder's overconcern or Eldest Luma's quietly smug passivity. Instead she skirted towards a point where the track narrowed, lashed her tail for a momentary burst in balance, then sprang over the mud and latched onto a tree root on the other side, freshly ripped free from the soil and scored with dozens of thin scars from the claws of the marching creatures. She scurried up and settled at the tree's base, where the gnarled roots tangled into a more-than-sturdy foothold overhanging the morass.

With the newfound advantage of height, she surveyed the terrain. The tracks overlapped one another in a mad scramble, pouring up from the lowland forest and curving up and away.

They moved with surprising organization for such motley creatures. She counted at least four very different sizes of print in the track, some barely longer than her own body (nose to the base of her tail) while some were large enough to crush her underfoot without even noticing.

The tracks were only a few hours old. The swarm must have passed in the early pre-dawn. She strained her memory to try and recall if she'd felt any tremors from down in the sleep-halls of the hollow, but if she were honest with herself, they were too far down and too well-insulated by the soft soil walls to have marked their passage.

She turned her attention to where the trail vanished from sight, curving over and up the slope. The land in that direction was treacherous and, to the mind of her people, best avoided. Gravel slips and rain rivulets ran down between the massive plates of rock that jutted out of the soil, and even though trees and flowers overgrew them, their roots could not be trusted to hold the ground together enough for safe passage of one of her size. Fresh rainfall unearthed and dislodged glassy chips of stone, and the soil turned to mud and slipped between the boulders, exposing treacherous chasms that could swallow an unwary traveler. The shattered earth built up and up until it abruptly skewed and slanted down in a gentle curve, like the ground had been struck with a terrible force and the shattering had rippled out from the center. And in the heart of that broken land, glimpsed fearfully from treetops or the shadow of the stones, lay the stronghold of the Long Shadows.

Once, long redmoons ago, Pip had traveled three days and nights to scale the shattered peaks herself, to see the stronghold with her own eyes (mostly due to a burst of rebellious curiosity after a scolding from Eldest Luma). The works of the Long Shadows could always be distinguished from natural formations or nests - they had a love of smooth things, and the stone they shaped stretched cleanly skyward and bore no footholds beyond the straight, geometric fissures that ran up and through them. So Pip already knew that the stronghold was encircled by a massive shadowcrafted cliff, pale and smooth as ice and taller than trees, and it surrounded the entire stronghold just behind the shattered peaks. Beyond the wall, great columns and cliffs jutted skyward, more smooth handicraft of the Long Shadows. At times they were even spotted outside the walls, tending great swaths of land in the same precise straight lines they shaped their stone. Those tracts bore vast quantities of food in unnatural abundance, some that grew nowhere else in the valley, but the Long Shadows guarded them closely and harshly punished intrusion, and the Eldest three generations before Luma had forbade anyone from entering (or even approaching) their strange geometric works, no matter how lean the winters became.

She debated following the trail. It would inexorably lead her towards the stronghold, but if the creatures were focused solely on the Long Shadows, that was valuable information to bring back to the hollow. No doubt Eldest Luma would be pleased to have yet another reason to avoid the Long Shadows and their works.

A sudden awareness prickled in the small of Pip's back, shivering up into her ears and all the way down to the tip of her tail. Her gray fur bristled and she froze, eyes darting wildly, seeking the source. The feeling had no obvious impetus, but she trusted her tail with her life, and something was happening. Something sourceless, something…

At the base of the root she was balanced on, a sprout punctured the trodden soil and curled upwards, splitting into pairs of pale green leaves. She watched as it climbed to twice her height in less than three beats of her racing heart.

Instinct took over. She scampered up the tree like a shot, finding footholds in the bark with a practiced ease that belied her jolting terror. She plunged into the safety of the leafshadow and clung to a branch, breathing fast and shallow and trying very hard to stay quiet.

Below her, a green carpet spread across the mire as grass and flowers bloomed impossibly fast.

The Weeping Shadow was approaching.

Pip strained her ears and caught the hint of a whisper of movement through the grass, distant and soft but certainly coming closer. It was pointless to cast her eyes towards the darkness - The Weeping Shadow was, in the stories, always swathed in gray, near invisible in the shadow of the canopy, and it passed in many tales without a trace, save for its flowering footsteps as its passage drove the forest to frenzy.

But it never came so close to the stronghold. The Weeping Shadow's domain was the deep and tangled woods, much further into the valley than even the hollow. It haunted the river and the wild places, and its realm was thick with plants of impossible vitality and sweetness - but not even the bravest scout dared its domain, even when hunger was rampant. The fruits of the Weeping Shadow's realm were steeped in an absolute sorrow whose depth defied comprehension, and the slow pulse of its thoughts churned in dark and wrenching misery that could be heard across half the valley. It was too much for the mind to take for long, and scouts that had strayed into its influence took moons to recover from the borrowed grief.

That had been the prickling on Pip's neck. The slow approach of the Weeping Shadow was already casting a pallor on her mind - and it was getting closer.

Pip's thoughts scrambled for her next move. If she stayed hidden, the Weeping Shadow would pass nearer to her than anyone had ever dared. She flattened her ears against her head and focused on the walls around her mind. Could she close herself to it strongly enough to hold out?

A wild fear beat against her ribs. She wanted to stay clinging to this branch forever, but she also wanted to bolt, to sprint the length of the branch and fling herself into open space, trusting the soft soil to cushion her fall - or rather, if she were honest with herself in that moment, heedless of what the fall might do to her. The desperate urge to flee was strong in her people, and here, faced with a terror closer than ever before, it was nigh overwhelming.

But Pip had a third instinct that overruled all others when she allowed it, and it had been slowly growing in her mind ever since she'd slipped from the hollow before the dawn. It was a hunger, of a sort, and one that warred always with fear. The hunger was curiosity, a thrumming urge for exploration and understanding that spurred her on through peril and dark for the promise of clarity on the other side.

The beasts in her forest were descending on the stronghold, and their passage had stirred the Weeping Shadow from its domain. Something was happening - something vast, something perhaps unknowable. But it would certainly stay unknowable if she didn't even try to know it.

And perhaps the Weeping Shadow knew.

Pip had more control than most over the openness of her mind. It alarmed her peers, sometimes, that she could pass among them in silence, unreceptive to their soundless speech. It unnerved them more, for those who knew - from a time when she was more open with her secrets and her strangeness - that she could at times hear the deep thoughts of the Long Shadows, and stranger still, sometimes even catch a shred of their meaning. The idea that the minds of the Long Shadows could in any way compare to the bright, clear thoughts of her people was on the surface laughable, and just under that surface, frightening. Still, she knew it was true. Their minds were dark, slow places, but they contained meaning and knowledge, most beyond the reckoning of her kind.

The mind of the Weeping Shadow was an abyss of grief and sorrow, but if she could attune her senses to it - if she could withstand its pressure - she could, perhaps, glean its purpose in the shattered peaks, and what it knew of the creatures that she pursued.

The underbrush cracked. Pip flattened herself against the branch and peered intently at the sound as the rolling wave of green spread under the tree, blanketing in every direction.

A shape moved in the shadow of the trees, ponderous and slow.

Pip felt her eyes grow hot and stinging, the space behind them heavy with unshed tears. A borrowed bottomless grief encroached on the walls of her mind, lapping at it like a swelling river threatening its banks.

The Weeping Shadow broke from the treeline and stepped forward.

It towered, even from Pip's high vantage point. It was gray and still and almost shapeless in the dim of the canopy, but twin lights glimmered near its summit, pale green like the sprouts boiling at its feet.

Pip's head pounded. The pressure of its presence was terrible. It was vast, yes, but the power of the sorrow within it seemed vaster still - like all the forest around it was desperate to weep, and the Shadow was the only part of it that could, yet it refused to.

The Shadow tilted its head down, and the lights of its eyes vanished in the gloom. But it was not weeping, Pip knew. It was… looking.

Looking at the tracks under its carpet of grass.

Pip gritted her teeth, gripped the branch, and opened her mind.

It was gentler than she had anticipated. The pressure and power was indescribable, but once she stopped trying to push it back, she found it moved her rather like water would - with force, but without pain. It was almost easy to let the thoughts of this vast creature buffet her where they would.

The words in the Weeping Shadow's mind were unknown to her, but she felt a snatch of them repeating over and over again. The words mattered less than the feeling that drove them, and as she focused, she realized that the Weeping Shadow was, in some way, at war with itself; the thoughts were not all in agreement. The repetition smelled of deep, old terror, but its loop was broken over and over again by a different, newer thought - one that Pip herself was intimately familiar with, strong enough that she needed no translation to parse it:

But I can help.

Dimly, in her faraway body, she felt tears pouring from her, hot and desperate from a grief she couldn't fathom. Her claws gripped the bark of the branch. The Weeping Shadow's thoughts, at the moment, were focused on its inner war, but it did nothing to shield Pip from the substrate of its misery. Still, she was onto something. If she could just push through, she might learn what the Weeping Shadow understood of the intruders to their forest.

Pip dug deeper. The Weeping Shadow knew what these creatures were - knew what they intended - believed it could help in some way - but what did it know of them?

Running below the looping dread and the punctuating bursts of hope, Pip glimpsed a glimmering ribbon of understanding wending its way just below the Weeping Shadow's conscious thought. It snaked under the fear, coiled around the thought of help. This had to be the knowledge that had motivated the Weeping Shadow's unheard-of migration. This was the mystery of the creatures answered.

This, perhaps, was Pip's only mistake. As she caught the thread of that understanding, it abruptly yanked against the current and plunged her down, down, down into the icy depth of the Weeping Shadow's truest misery. Its knowledge of these creatures came from the same bone-deep wellspring as the torrent of tears, and Pip screamed aloud as it battered her mind full-force. Alien thoughts crashed against her, unbearably loud; the grinding of bone, the shifting of stone, the pounding of waves greater than any river, the splintering of mighty trees. A twisting, a breaking - a power like a maddened, wild animal, thrashing and uncontrollable, kept in check only by its own terrible exhaustion and grief. She was so, so small, and somehow in the depths of this vastness she was even further diminished, crushed to a single point of light-

And something was watching her.

With a last mighty burst of willpower she released the thought-thread, flung herself away, and tumbled off the branch. It was something of a mercy that she was too stunned to feel the impact, and the carpet of seedlings cushioned her fall.

The first thing she became aware of was her breathing, high and fast and shallow in time with her racing heartbeat, real panic and borrowed sorrow draining away with shocking rapidity. Second, she felt the pain; her head pounding with spent exhaustion, her paws cramped in every joint, her back and shoulders bruised from where the impact of the fall had driven her scabbarded blade against her spine.

The third thing she became aware of was the shadow stretching towards her, claws stretched as long as her whole body, the deep purple of the skies after dusk.

The Weeping Shadow loomed over her, vaster than mountains. Two points of green pierced out from the dark.

She ran.

[ellecdc]

Rosier Twin Microfic

CW: untrue anatomy and physiology of earth worms, cruelty to earth worms, the general oddities that are the Rosier twins

Evan was exploring the grounds of the manor in search of his sister under the direction of their mother.

He found he didn’t mind all that much; the green of the trees and grass, the blue of the sky, and the pinks and reds of the flowers in the garden were all a welcome reprieve from the sad, dull grey and beige that ‘decorated’ the inside of their familial home.

That is, he hadn’t minded until he found himself sinking up to nearly his knees in loose soil as Pandora materialized from behind some shrubs.

“Evan! What have you done?” She chastised, not looking at her brother but rather where the bottom half of his legs had disappeared.

“What have I done?” Evan shot back incredulously. “What the hells is this?”

Pandora simply let out a displeased huff as she dropped her gardening spade and moved to help pull her brother out of the earth.

“You’re standing on my worms.” She admonished as he finally stepped onto solid ground, sure enough brushing loose soil and earth worms from his professionally tailored trousers and dragon-hide boots.

“What in Salazar’s name are you doing with a colony of earth worms?” He all but sneered at his sister who barely spared him a glance, though her face read ‘I can’t believe you asked such a ridiculous question’.

“The worms are good for the soil.” Pandora responded simply. “After the trouble the Honking Daffodils had with the gnome infestation, I figured they could use all the help they could get.”

Evan turned to survey the space; the worms did seem to be attempting to make their way towards the vegetation, though he really thought they’d be more effective coming from both sides of the plant.

“You ought to put some to the right of the plants, too, Panda.”

“I could only find fifty on the grounds, I don’t want to separate them from their family members.”

Evan fought the urge to roll his eyes as he bent down and dug a worm from the loose soil. “You know that you can cut them in half, right? Then you’d have twice as many and can establish colonies on either side.”

The expression on Pandora’s face told Evan she was warring with the side of her that hated the idea of chopping up living beings and the side of her that valued experimentation.

With one look in her brothers direction, Evan knew the decision she’d come to in her mind.

“I…don’t think I can cut the worms, Ev.”

So, that’s how both Evan and Pandora found themselves being scolded by their mother for being late for dinner (and rather filthy) as Evan spent the rest of the late afternoon cutting up earth worms for his twin sister.