#especially if you know anything about fencing

[paramythas]

'𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇' 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 been used to describe her before.

Creepy, unsettling, infuriating- all of those she's heard on a more frequent basis. But skittish? And from someone acting as though he has no idea why she might be acting that way? It earns the softest scoff, even as Neo settles back against the wall and settles in to watch Chuuya curiously. It's strange to see him so close to something like docile with someone. It's not like she doesn't understand though; apart from the hierarchy of the mafia, she's sure he too understands very well the level of danger he's dealing with.

It is a little strange though- strength isn't the only reason she's wary.

No, if that was it, she'd be a lot more restrained acting around Chuuya, especially after the night before. There's a difference, however, between someone who's strong, and someone who's simply- with or without power- dangerous. Neo's survived this long by knowing which is which, and knowing how to handle both.

(That she thinks Mori would get along fantastically with Salem, just from seeing this little bit, doesn't help her estimation.)

So the fact that Chuuya is still so... restrained leaves a lot for her to question.

It's tempting to reach out and touch again when the bandages come off, but there's a hint of surprise in her eyes as she sees the rate of his recovery. He doesn't have an Aura, but he's still healing this fast? Her eyes go from him to Mori, and then back to him, hesitating. The other man certainly knows about what's inside him, given she's sure Chuuya tells him... just about everything, and so she writes it in the air above his face, watching him more closely.

Is that because of the thing inside you?

A vague gesture at his cheek, his arm, her pupils contracting just a little too sharply. Does she think he'll answer her? It depends on whether or not he thinks she'll use it against him.

(She can't even pretend that she wouldn't. Knowledge is power, after all.)

He wants to ask her things too though, and so she figures- fair's fair. If she's going to tell him anything about herself or her Semblance, he can share a little too. A pause, and then more slyly:

Does light duty mean you can't fight people?

A little shimmy of her shoulders, as if she's holding back a laugh.

Need me to do it for you?

More work is more work. More work where she can let off steam? Even better. Plus, it gives her a chance to observe him if she does, and that's never a bad thing when it comes to people you're still on the fence about. If nothing else, it might put them on more even ground when it comes to 'understanding' each other.

However, as she's teasing Chuuya, her stomach decides to remind her that she still hasn't attended to her, and she goes (just a little) pink in the face.

Where's the nearest restaurant open at this hour?

Chuuya's still half-awake even as he observes, so it takes a moment for him to really notice what's going on. Not until she's climbing her way over his bed, eyes opening wider with a slightly baffled blink, and catching her small gesture.

Mori, quite naturally, misses nothing, even as he simultaneously ignores it and lightly calls it into question with a disarmingly soft-spoken chuckle.

"My, you are a skittish one, aren't you?" Mori smiles at her with closed eyes, a thin smile that's amicable yet mysterious, and he slides up alongside Chuuya's bedside with a rolling stool, a few items in hand. "Well, that's quite alright. If you need anything, feel free to let me know. You seem to have some energy back so that's as good a sign as any."

He's already setting to work on dealing with Chuuya in the meantime, the redhead silently mulling over her reaction, because so far, he's come to know Neo as anything but skittish. He's not sure if this is another side she hasn't shown yet, if she just instinctively knows to be wary, or if she's done her research. All three, to him, are equally enough likely.

A slightly more paranoid side to him subtly suggests she could also be trying to play him for a fool, make both him and Mori see her as no threat at all to his Boss or acting the part of the damsel needing protecting, if she's figured out at all who he is. If it's that kind of ploy, it won't work, but he'd cross that bridge if they came to it, injured or no.

It's the right response to have, anyway, and he might have had it also if not for years of repertoire built and all the things Mori had done for him over the years.

Suffice to say, Mori's one of the only people Chuuya actually trusts enough to be vulnerable around, so he looks more inconvenienced by routine than anything when the man starts with carefully peeling away the medical tape on his face and hums thoughtfully in inspection, while pretending at disregarding Neo's presence entirely.

The wounds to his face were already well on their way to healing. What had started as large, bloody pits that looked like gunshot wounds, easily two inches or a little more in diameter, had mostly shrunken down to looking more like he'd gotten hit by a BB gun meant for killing small rodents. Given another day, the wounds would be sealed completely. A couple more days after that, and it would be like he never got hurt in the first place, without even a blemish.

His forearms were a slightly different story, forming a continuous jagged fissure in the muscles, but they were likewise much better than they'd started.

"Flex your hands for me a little, Chuuya. Let me know if you experience any tingling or numbness."

He followed what Mori told him, carefully making a fist and then stretching his fingers back out a few times. "No more than I expect from a wound like this."

Mori nodded, was careful to gently flush the wound and apply a healing salve to any areas of still-raw flesh that would help speed up the process a little, before re-wrapping each arm with fresh gauze and pushing himself away across the room on his stool.

"The wounds are healing at an expected rate. I suspect they'll be all closed up by the end of the week, but I still want you to take it easy the week after that. Light duty only."

Chuuya frowned a bit at that, unhappy, but entirely helpless to argue about it. He liked to work and be useful, but Mori's word was law. Even if Chuuya, more stubborn than most, might require an extra nudge or two to actually take things easy.

"So am I cleared to leave?"

"Yes, you can go home if you'd like, just so long as you don't do anything strenuous with your arms." Mori lifted an index finger towards the ceiling over his shoulder pointedly, keeping his back to them while he discarded old bandages and jotted down some notes onto a clipboard. "That includes no joyriding until they heal up. Light activities only," he reiterates again, making Chuuya's frown deepen the tiniest degree. "I'd also like to perform an X-ray before you leave, to make sure your skull didn't take any lasting damage and that any fractures you may have sustained are healing properly. From what I can tell, the enemy's Ability only did damage to soft tissue, but it never hurts to be cautious."

Chuuya heaves a noticeable sigh, peeling his blankets off to sit up and swivel his legs off the edge. "Yeah, yeah... let's just get it over with. I'd like to get the Hell out of here."

[imsojules]

After the tide turns – Part 3

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tw: implied violence, swearing, military control, inspired by the last of us, established relationship, not fully proof-read, english is not my first language!

a/n: Slowly but surely, we are getting there… If you’re reading this, you deserve a gold star. ✨ Thanks for sticking with me!! Any feedback is really appreciated 😊

word count: 4k

taglist: @chuuuchuuutrain, @d3adfa1ry, @maddsgrace, @darkparablesfan

masterlist | previous | next |

Life in the QZ isn’t like living.

It’s more like… waiting.

Waiting for news. For food. For permission. For a miracle you stopped believing in somewhere between the evacuation and the gates slamming shut behind you.

The sky’s gone pale again. Not pink, not gold—just pale. Like the world forgot how to feel color all the way through. You sit on the edge of a shipping crate near the eastern fence line, picking at the unraveling seam of your sleeve, boots scraping against gravel. From here, you can see the perimeter dogs pacing like clockwork and the rusted-out Humvees resting like carcasses in the dirt.

It’s been three weeks since the first night in the quarantine zone. Since you learned to sleep through shouting, searchlights, and the endless rumble of generators that make your molars ache.

You hear someone crunching over gravel and don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

You don’t turn around. You already know the sound of him. JJ’s footsteps are lazy, a little heavy in the heel. He drops beside you with the kind of exhausted grace that comes from too many late shifts moving supply crates or fixing broken floodlights. He’s radiating heat and the faint scent of metal and sweat and stale nicotine. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just rests his elbows on his knees and looks out over the fence like the ocean might still be out there somewhere, waiting.

His hair’s even messier than usual—cowlicks twisting toward the sun like they’re searching for something.

He nudges your knee with his. “You ghosted breakfast.”

“Didn’t feel like fighting over powdered eggs,” you mutter.

JJ exhales through his nose. “Fair. I think Pope almost got shanked over a granola bar.”

You smile, but it’s small, and tired. You tilt your head until it rests against his shoulder. “I was thinking about my mom again.”

JJ goes quiet. He doesn’t shift away.

“She’s out there somewhere,” you say softly. “Unless… I don’t know. Maybe she got picked up by another zone. Maybe she’s at that coastal one they keep talking about on the boards.”

JJ’s holding your hand tightly. “You’ll see her again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” he admits. “But I know you. You don’t quit.”

You want to believe him. You do. But it’s hard to carry hope without it slipping through your fingers. Especially when they won’t even let you near the comms tent unless you’ve got military clearance or something to trade that matters more than your bones.

There’s a sudden movement to your side, a quiet rustling of fabric. You glance up just in time to see JJ disappearing behind a stack of crates near the supply tent. He moves like a shadow, quick and quiet, but there’s something about the way he moves—like he’s used to this, like he’s been here before.

You don’t say anything. You just watch him for a moment, your curiosity piqued. A few moments later, JJ reappears, slipping back into place beside you with a satisfied look on his face. He’s got a small, wrapped snack in his hand, the edges a little crumpled from being shoved into his pocket. Without a word, he presses it into your palm.

You glance from the snack back up to him. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” JJ says, casual, like he didn’t just make a quick getaway to steal something from the supply tent. His eyes flick to the chocolate bar in your hand and then back to the fence.

You raise an eyebrow. “JJ, you didn’t—”

“…anyway,”he interrupts with a grin.

You can’t help but shake your head, but you tear open the wrapper anyway. JJ had a way of getting things others couldn't, which always made you uneasy. It wasn’t that you doubted his intentions, but the others, they might not be so understanding when someone needed a favor in exchange.

You take a bite, savoring the sweet, chocolatey taste that feels like a little piece of normalcy in all this chaos.

JJ watches you, waiting for your reaction. You break off a piece and hold it out to him. “Share with me.”

For a moment, he looks surprised, like he didn’t expect you to offer it. But then he grins, shaking his head. “Nah, you go ahead.”

You raise an eyebrow, insistent. “No, really. You’ve been working way harder than me.”

You pass him half of your bar, watching as he takes it with a smile. He takes a bite, looking over at you in that quiet way, like he’s trying to read something in your expression.

You lean back a little, feeling the warm weight of the moment settle between the two of you.

Before you can say anything else, Pope’s voice echoes across the lot. “Guys!”

You both look up. He’s running, backpack bouncing against his side, glasses crooked from the wind.

JJ stands first. “What happened?”

Pope’s face is flushed, breath hitching. “They’re here. My parents. They’re—they got moved from Charlotte last night. I just saw them by the med tent.”

Something lifts in your chest. “That’s amazing, Pope.”

He nods, eyes wide with something that looks like relief and fear. “They look older. I think my dad broke his arm, but… they’re here.”

JJ claps a hand on his back. “Go. What’re you still doing talking to us?”

Pope grins and bolts, disappearing between tents. For a second, it makes everything else feel… less heavy.

JJ slides a hand down his face. “First win we’ve had since we got here.”

You look at him. “You think we’ll get something good too?”

He doesn’t answer, not at first. But his pinky hooks around yours again. Quiet promise.

You spend the afternoon helping unload new arrivals—quiet, dazed people with burned skin and plastic bags holding their whole lives. You don’t talk much. JJ passes out bottled water and smokes half a cigarette with a soldier who probably shouldn’t be sharing, but no one cares anymore, not really.

Late in the day, Kiara appears with mud-splattered boots, hair tied up and her sleeves rolled. She’s not supposed to be in your sector but she comes when she can, when the guards aren’t paying attention.

She grins when she sees you. “You look like shit.”

“Love you too,” you mutter, tug her into a hug that’s tighter than the insult deserves.

Kiara slides in next to JJ without a word, grabbing a few ration packs from the open bin between them. They’ve done this routine so many times it barely needs words now. She starts stacking cans methodically, hands practiced and fast.

JJ eyes her arrangement. “You’re doing it backwards.”

“No, I’m doing it correctly,” Kiara mutters, not looking up. “You stack the lentils at the bottom. They’re the heaviest.”

JJ scoffs under his breath. “I swear you just make these rules up to mess with me.”

“Or,” she says, with mock patience, “I’ve actually been paying attention to what doesn’t fall over every five seconds.”

Their bickering is familiar, not sharp, not even irritated. Just two people who’ve learned how to fill silence with noise. You crouch nearby, sorting through dented cans for something that doesn’t look like it used to be dog food.

John B’s voice cuts across the yard before anyone can escalate. “Guess who found the holy grail.”

He struts toward them with that same crooked grin he’s always had, the one that somehow survived everything else. A can pokes out from the front of his jacket.

You lift an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

He yanks it free with a flourish. “Peaches.”

“Those are for the med tent,” Pope calls from a few feet away, where he’s digging through a box of old boots. “You can’t just take them.”

“Correction: I didn’t take. I liberated.”

JJ gives a low whistle. “Man’s out here stealing from the sick. That’s bold.”

“Man’s out here about to get a black eye if he doesn’t share,” Kiara adds, eyes narrowing.

John B clutches the can dramatically to his chest. “This is mine now. My prize. My—”

“—your funeral,” JJ says, tossing an empty wrapper at him.

You let yourself laugh softly, the sound catching a little in your throat. The air is thick with smoke from a nearby burn barrel, and it’s started to sink into, your hair, your skin. The world always smells like smoke now. Like something just barely holding on.

JJ turns toward the group, elbow resting on his knee. “Okay, actual question. How many cans of peaches do I have to ‘accidentally find’ before they make me mayor?”

John B doesn’t even look up. “At least twelve. And a working flashlight.”

Pope scoffs. “You? Mayor? You’d try to trade the job for batteries and a hammock.”

JJ points at him. “Exactly. Efficient government.”

You give him a sideways glance. “Pretty sure bribery disqualifies you.”

“Not if it’s delicious bribery,” JJ says, grinning. “I’d be a people’s leader. Generous.”

“And very unhinged,” Pope mutters.

JJ shrugs. “Tomato, tomahto.”

The wind kicks up, rattling the sheet metal roofs on the makeshift shelters. A soldier’s voice echoes across the lot, muffled by a bullhorn and distance. Somewhere near the north end, a child starts to cry. No one flinches anymore. It’s just part of the background.

The fire in the barrel pops, sending sparks spiraling upward.

And for a moment—just a breath—it feels like maybe this is what the end of the world looks like. Not fire. Not chaos. Just people. Still here. Still reaching. Still arguing over stolen peaches like any of it might matter in the end.

It almost feels like before.

Just before sundown, near the old church building that’s been converted into a registration center, you spot her.

It doesn’t register at first. The blonde hair is tangled from wind and days on the road. She’s thinner, face hollowed at the edges, and her eyes scan the yard like she’s looking for a way out—flicking from soldier to tent to crowd, never settling.

But then the light hits her just right, and your breath leaves your lungs.

“Sarah?” you whisper.

JJ freezes beside you, head whipping around. “Wait—what?”

John B’s head snaps around before you even realize you said it aloud. He sees her the same moment she sees him. The distance between them cracks—ten feet, maybe twelve—but it closes fast.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, and then he’s moving.

He drops the can of peaches without a second thought, arms swinging, legs already breaking into a sprint. Sarah meets him halfway. She doesn’t even hesitate. The duffel slips from her shoulder and hits the ground with a thud.

They collide like gravity pulling them into each other—arms locking tight, her feet almost leaving the ground. John B wraps her up like something he’s been afraid to hope for. One of his hands cradles the back of her head. She buries her face in his collarbone and stays there. Behind her, Ward Cameron stands talking to an officer like he’s negotiating a deal. He doesn’t look like someone who’s spent weeks scrounging beneath fences or sleeping in transport trucks.

Beside him, Rafe is slouched against the gate, blood dried on his sleeve, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s already bored of the apocalypse.

Sarah spots you. Her eyes go wide.

You take a step forward, but then she’s running.

You meet halfway, crashing into each other like the sea slamming against rock. Her arms lock around your shoulders, and you feel her tremble in the spaces where she lets herself breathe.

“I thought you were dead,” she says.

“I thought you were,” you whisper.

JJ stands a few feet away, blinking like he’s not sure this is real. His hand curls at his side. Guarded. Watching the Camerons with wary eyes.

JJ hasn’t moved. He’s standing a few feet off, staring like he’s waiting for the ground to crack open under all of you. His jaw tightens when Rafe finally notices you. His smile’s too slow, too sharp.

Sarah notices, too. Her grip tightens. “Things got bad after, but… he got us here. He got us in.” she says quickly.

You glance over her shoulder at Ward, who’s still deep in conversation with one of the guards—handing over paperwork like he’s negotiating a business deal instead of survival. He’s clean, shaven, somehow not sunburned. That alone sets him apart from the rest of you.

JJ’s still watching Ward. “He’s not staying in here long, not like this.” he mutters. “You think Ward Cameron’s gonna sleep on a cot next to strangers and a leaking ceiling? Nah. He’s already working his angle.”

Sarah doesn’t deny it.

Ward had always known how to make himself indispensable. It was just a matter of time before someone realized how much he was controlling.

The generator sputters behind you, kicking into a louder gear. More floodlights flicker on. Night is coming fast now, and the air's cooling too quickly, the kind that sinks into your sleeves and stays. You wrap your arms around yourself, grounding.

JJ steps closer, brushing your elbow. “We should go. They’ll start lockdown soon.”

You nod, but look back to Sarah. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Sarah’s eyes soften. “Try and stop me.”

She squeezes your arm before slipping away into the registration line, already half-swallowed by the crowd. You watch her go until the knot in your throat threatens to choke you.

JJ is quiet beside you, hands jammed into his pockets. His expression is unreadable—guarded, tight around the mouth. You know that look. You’ve seen it when he’s cornered. When he’s thinking too much and saying too little.

You bump his arm gently. “You okay?”

He lets out a short breath that could be a laugh or a scoff. “Yeah. I just… wasn’t expecting ghosts today.”

You glance back toward Ward and Rafe. They’re still at the edge of the yard, somehow untouched by the grime and wear the rest of you carry like a second skin.

JJ notices your stare. “He’s gonna try something. You know that, right?”

“Ward always tries something,” you murmur.

JJ shrugs, but his jaw clenches again. “People like him don’t just show up. They maneuver.”

You nod slowly. You’ve lived with hope long enough to know it cuts both ways—sharper than loss, if you’re not careful.

A voice crackles over the loudspeaker: “Evening lockdown in ten. All residents report to assigned shelter zones.”

JJ groans under his breath. “Great. Home sweet sardine can.”

He doesn’t move, though. Not until your hand brushes his. His fingers twitch, then curl around yours, warm and familiar.

— 

The next morning comes too quickly. You wake to the sound of metal groaning.

It scrapes low and long from somewhere outside the tent, followed by the crunch of gravel under boots and the faint clatter of something being dropped—wood? metal? It’s hard to tell anymore. Everything echoes here. The ground is cold beneath the thin cot, the air dense with damp and the chemical stink of bleach and diesel. And for one moment—one still, breathless moment—you forget where you are.

Then you feel him.

JJ is curled behind you, legs tangled with yours, his arm heavy across your waist like he didn’t trust the world not to steal you again. His forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades, breath warm and steady against the fabric of your shirt. One of his fingers twitches in sleep where it rests just below your ribs, the faintest, unconscious motion. Holding on. You’re not sure when the two of you fell asleep like this, tangled and folded together on the cot, like exhaustion finally cracked the last of your defenses and you just… collapsed inward. Toward each other. His arm is draped across your ribs now, not heavy, but anchoring.

You don’t move.

If you move, the morning will start. The world will come back into focus: the fences, the checkpoints, the unreadable stares from the guards. The silence of people who’ve lost too much to speak freely. If you move, you might break this fragile, borrowed peace.

So you stay still and stare at the tent ceiling—stained canvas stretched tight across metal poles, little tears along the seams letting in soft beams of light. Dust floats in those shafts like something sacred. Motes of gold suspended in breathless air.

Across the tent, the others are silent.

John B is bundled under a worn blanket on the far cot, one arm flung over his eyes like it’s the only way to keep the nightmares out. Pope lies curled into himself, glasses askew on his face, one hand still clinging to a spiral notebook. He keeps it like it’s armor. Like if he documents enough, he might make sense of the senseless.

JJ stirs against you, a small exhale catching in his throat. He shifts slightly, his fingers tightening for a second. You feel the moment his breathing changes. His awareness returning.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and something heavier. “You still here?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Just reach back and find his hand, linking your fingers. His grip tightens instantly.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just exhales slow and deep, like he’s trying to hold the moment steady. Then, a soft laugh stirs the back of your neck.

“That burst last time… what do you think? SMG?”

You wait a beat before replying, just to mess with him. “Nah. Too clean. That was a rifle. Suppressed, maybe.”

The game had started as a joke, something stupid to pass the time while the world crumbled outside. Every distant pop in the night — a single shot, a burst, a rumble — became a challenge. Guess the caliber. The weapon. The direction.

It was the dumbest game you’d ever played. It also kept you sane.

“God, you’re so wrong.” His voice is warm against your spine, laced with a grin. “Definitely an SMG. Close range. You can always hear the tighter recoil if you actually pay attention.”

You scoff, quiet. “I do pay attention. You’re just mad I’m better at this than you.”

He huffs, the sound low in his chest. “Please. You thought a pistol was a shotgun last week.”

“That was one time.”

He laughs, soft and muffled. You can feel it more than hear it.

Beyond the canvas walls, the world stirs.

You hear voices—low, tense. A cough, close enough to make your skin crawl. The slap of a tarp in the wind. Somewhere far off, dogs bark in clipped, controlled bursts. You can picture them: lean, alert, leashed to perimeter poles, trained to bite first and ask questions later.

Then, all at once, a sound cuts through it all.

A siren. Sharp and mechanical.

A single sharp burst, brief yet freezing your veins with ice. Just enough to hush every whisper, halt every movement in its tracks.

JJ jerks upright behind you, his hand still tangled in yours. His eyes are wide, shoulders already braced like he’s waiting for the sky to fall.

Across the tent, John B scrambles upright, kicking free of his blanket. “Shit. That’s not the generator alarm.”

Pope’s notebook hits the floor with a soft slap. “External breach?”

“No.” JJ shakes his head. “Too short. That was… a signal.”

JJ’s already halfway to the flap before you fully stand. That tight, coiled readiness in his body—it’s not just adrenaline. It’s him, defaulting to fight when everything inside you screams “hide.”

You’re already shoving your boots on, heart kicking hard against your ribs. Your fingers tremble as you tug the laces, mind racing through every possibility, none of them good. As you move, your boot crunches something. The chocolate wrapper from yesterday, half-buried in the dirt. Sweetness turned to trash in less than a day.

Kiara appears in the tent flap like she was summoned by the noise. “South gate’s flooded. At least twenty coming through, unannounced. They weren’t on any of the incoming rosters.”

“How the hell did they get past clearance?” Pope asks.

“They didn’t,” she says grimly. “Someone let them in.”

The words hang heavy, more accusation than theory. You exchange a glance with JJ. It doesn’t need to be said. You’re all thinking the same thing: Ward.

You stand, brushing off your knees, and Kiara grabs your arm. “It’s bad. Some of them are armed. Guards are on edge. If they panic, it’s gonna turn ugly fast.”

John B is already halfway to the exit, voice sharp. “Where’s Sarah?”

Kiara shakes her head. “I haven’t seen her. But I saw Rafe. He’s walking the fence line like he owns it.”

JJ curses under his breath, teeth clenched. “Of course he is.”

You shoulder your pack on instinct, even though it’s mostly empty. Just the essentials. A flashlight. A knife. A few protein bars. You don’t wait to be told anymore. You just move.

Outside, the yard is chaos.

People swarm in clusters, some still in pajamas, others half-geared up, heads swiveling like prey. Soldiers bark orders, trying to herd the crowd away from the south gate. One of the guards near the tower has his rifle unslung and ready, finger twitching on the trigger guard. That alone sends ice down your spine.

JJ glances at you, his fingers brushing your elbow. “Stay close, alright?”

You nod, not because you’re worried, but because losing someone in all this chaos is a feeling you never want to know again.

Beyond the fence, you can just make out a line of new arrivals: sunburned, dust-coated, and in worse shape than any group you've seen come through so far. But it’s not the condition they’re in that sets you on edge—it’s their eyes. Hard. Watchful. Like they’re casing the place instead of seeking refuge.

And at the front of the pack, calm as ever, stands Ward Cameron.

He’s not saying anything. Not smiling. Not pretending to be charitable. He just meets the gaze of every soldier like he’s already made a deal they haven’t caught up to yet.

JJ steps up beside you. “He brought them in to flip leverage. Trade power for people.”

You nod slowly. “And now he’s got numbers.”

Pope runs up, glasses askew again, breath tight. “Command tent’s already closed ranks. Nobody’s saying anything.”

John B rounds on him. “Sarah?”

Pope hesitates. “I think I saw her near the med tent. But… she didn’t look happy.”

JJ’s hand grazes your back. “We need to find her.”

You nod again. Then the second siren goes off—shorter this time, sharper. Two bursts. You all freeze.

Kiara curses. “That’s a weapons-lock signal.”

Soldiers rush the fence line. Rifles up. Safeties off.

Ward raises both hands, calm and slow. He says something to the guard captain—too far away to hear, but it makes the captain’s shoulders square up like he’s been slapped.

Then the gate opens.

You stagger forward half a step, disbelief crashing through your ribs.

“No, no, no,” JJ mutters, pulling you back with a hand around your arm. “They’re not just letting them in.”

But they are.

The first wave steps through in a staggered, predatory formation—no panic, no desperation. Just calm calculation. One of them has a machete slung through his belt like a warning.

The guards didn’t raise weapons. That was the worst part. They just watched. Like they were waiting. Like they'd been told to let it happen.

John B pushes forward, eyes locked on Sarah, who’s appeared at the edge of the med tent, frozen in place. She sees the men enter. Sees her father behind them. Her eyes flick to you, wide and furious.

You see it before she even moves.

She turns—and bolts.

“Sarah!” John B shouts, taking off after her.

JJ’s already pulling you, his voice low and steady. “We can’t be near the front. Not when this goes bad.”

Kiara’s on your other side now, fingers already around the blade at her hip. “This is a takeover.”

“No,” you breathe, watching Ward stride through the gate like a man arriving to claim a throne. “It’s already done.”

[kedreeva]

Prompt: Would you mind trying to write Robin and Nancy fencing or the whole party fencing?

It is a dreary day outside, and I would like to write instead of clean, so I do not mind at all :)

------

"You're doing it wrong," Nancy points out, every inch the haughty schoolgirl she used to be.

Robin fiddles with the screen in front of her face for the seven thousandth time in the last three minutes. "How can you even tell," she complains. This suit is itchy and she can't see right.

"Because I listened to the same instructor as you did," Nancy says, adjusting her stance and bringing her sword up again. Foil, Robin thinks. She's never going to learn all these words.

"Remind me why we're doing this, again?" She moves to mirror Nancy.

"Because we need to learn how to fight more effectively up close," Nancy says. "We won't always have guns."

Nancy advances, and Robin retreats.

Robin focuses mostly on not wildly slapping her foil against Nancy's like the first few times the weapon had come at her. They aren't fighting for their lives. There are rules here.

Nancy advances, and Robin retreats.

The weight of the blade in her hand is unfamiliar, the dance a foreign set of moves. She can't see where she's going, only where she's been. There isn't time to get her footing well enough to turn it around.

Nancy advances, and Robin retreats.

That part, at least, is familiar.

Their blades touch, the sensation jarring up Robin's palm into her wrist, and separate just as quickly as they met.

Nancy advances, and Robin meets her where she strikes.

She's not good at it, and she feels the strike to her body the second she tries anything more fancy than running away, but she tried. Nancy drops her guard and laughs breathlessly, and that takes some of the sting out of the loss.

"Let me guess, I did it wrong again?" Robin asks.

"Oh yeah," Nancy says, but a smile still lingers in her tone. "Here, let me show you."

Nancy advances, and Robin lets her.

[my-current-obsession]

I am taking note of every single villager who honestly suggests that Micah's half-monster status might have given his chosen bride cold feet and led to her running away and they are ALL dropping several positions in my internal character ranking.

[astrodances]

Olympics prompt

So I may end up regretting this, taking a long time, or maybe not even following through (fair warning XD), but I like learning about different Olympic sports, so, in an effort to do so, I thought of a prompt idea:

give me a character (or two) [for a fandom I know] + an Olympic sport, and I'll try to draw or write something for it! 😄⚽️🏊🏃🥇

[tovaicas]

not me importing my anti-air defense worldbuilding h/cs into ishgard bc I can

[nagumaow]

itoshi rin - “ lost ? “

summary ౨ৎ

your boyfriend, itoshi rin, always looks a little lost whenever he’s out with you. he doesn’t really get your antics, but he’ll follow you anyways ♡

warnings ɞ

loverboy rin lol, reader is described as pretty, beautiful, etc, oh oh and reader buys a dress , not much else , and ummm just lots of fluff and cutesy stuff and yeah !

“are you looking for something, sir?” a store attendant asks, a kind smile on her lips. she looks back at him— the man you love— who is also known as your boyfriend, rin. itoshi rin.

“no.” he’d respond, shaking his head at the woman. short and simple, as always. in all honesty, rin’s not too sure what he’s doing here. he watches as the lady leaves, his eyes immediately shifting to the dressing room. you told him to wait out here while you try on some outfits, but he feels like you’ve been taking a bit too long in there. are you hurt?

the thought alone is enough to make him feel a bit skittish, his foot tapping against the floor. he peers inside, glancing back at the endless stalls of dressing rooms. he eyes the one you stepped into— number thirteen. thirteen, thirteen, thirteen. are you okay? he feels a bit sick. what if something happened to you?

he spots you walking out after what felt like hours of nervously chattering his teeth, and he relaxes immediately. shoulders slumped and the crease from his eyebrows furrowing smoothing over, he finds his feet just barely grazing the little fencing of the queue. he knows he shouldn’t, it’s the women’s dressing room— but you’re right there, approaching him with that happy smile on your face.

“riiinn,” you draw out, and he feels his knees going weak. you’re so beautiful he’s almost sure he could cry. but he remains stoic, his hand reaching out to take some of the clothes for you. “look.” you say, holding up.. some sort of dress. he thinks he recalls you showing him a picture of something similar earlier today.

“you’ll look beautiful. let’s go pay now.” he’d say, his tone just as gentle as ever. he’s always like this with you. his hand reaches up, cupping your cheek and brushing aside your hair as he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

he reaches for your hand, leading you to the register. it’s usually you leading him, but he feels sort of bad for trailing behind you like a puppy.

the next time you both go somewhere, you’re bringing him to a cafe. your favorite one. yes, rin remembers these things. how could he not? he’d never forgive himself if he were to forget anything about you.

“mhm.. yes, can i please get (favourite order)?” you ask, expression bright. rin thinks you’re like the sun sometimes. shining so prettily. he wishes he could take a picture— but he’d feel like a creep pulling out his phone in the middle of a cafe and taking photos of you like some stalker. but you’re the absolute love of his life, why should he care?

probably because he knows you’ll get all embarrassed and flustered if he does pull out his phone like he wants to. as much as he’d love to capture your beautiful smile in a picture to admire when he misses you, he would much rather have you happy.

but, don’t blame him when he ‘sneakily’ snaps a picture of you. the tips of his flush a pretty shade of red when his flash goes off, and rin is so embarrassed that he feels like that reindeer with the red nose when he watches your lips part.

“rin!” you exclaim, practically dropping your drink as you look back at your boyfriend from across the table. “did you just—“

“i didn’t.” he mumbles, gaze shifting away from yours. his pale lips curve into a subtle pout, and you really can’t bring yourself to be upset. you just flash him a knowing smile, which only makes his heart beat faster and spin the stars around his head a little harder. have you put a spell or something on him?

rin likes going out with you.

he feels a little confused sometimes, especially when you’re walking down the sidewalk, eyes bright as you look at the stores lined up. rin knows you like shopping, so he’s more than happy to come with you on your little trips to the store. even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

all he knows, is that you look so gorgeous when you smile. nothing could ever compete with you and your undeniable beauty, the absolute joy that radiates off of you like some sort of angel’s aura whenever you’re happy.

he feels a little proud, knowing that he’s contributing to your happiness as you tug him along, your fingers interlocked with his.

he likes it when you smile, he likes it when you’re happy.

on your next date, your boyfriend has no complaints standing with you in a line for some sort store. you told him it was a new one, and that you’re so excited to look inside. he’s just happy to be with you.

when you’re both finally let inside, he follows after you, eyes focused on your form as you excitedly look through everything. he has to physically hold himself back from falling over. you’re so, so, cute. he lives for that smile.

“rin, rin!” you wave your hand in front of his eyes, a small giggle escaping your lips at the dazed, or more like, lovestruck expression on his face. “are you listening?” you ask, tilting your head and leaning closer to him.

“of course.” he says quickly, feeling just a little ashamed for getting distracted. “…i’m sorry.” he says after a few moments. should he drop to his knees?

“don’t apologise.” you smile, cupping his cheeks and squishing them slightly. if you both weren’t so caught up loving each other, you could almost hear someone in the background.. something about.. ‘why can’t that be me?’ single people, these days.

“what were you saying?” rin prompts, nose scrunching slightly as you pinch at his cheek. he loves you more than anything, but this is a little embarrassing. he feels like a child. yet, he somehow likes it. maybe because it’s you.

“oh, right! have a look at this dress!”

and that’s how rin finds himself standing in the middle of yet another store, looking like a little boy who’s lost his mother after you ran off. he sighs fondly, eyes sparkling as he watches you look through a shelf. he doesn’t care about anything in this store. as far as he cares, all of it is just a bunch of little things that will bring you joy.

your dates are always fun, rin thinks. but he likes it when the two of you are together at home, too.

you’re curled against him, scrolling through tiktok with your head resting on his shoulder. yes, he loves this. even if he has no idea what the video you’re showing him is supposed to mean.

“your humour is interesting, love.” he mutters, nuzzling his nose against your hair. a playful jab watered down by his love for you.

your boyfriend, itoshi rin, loves you more than anything.

© me . pls pls don’t copy , steal , repost , translate , or do anything bad with my work and instead try and improve ur own skills ! ♡

masterlist ( 🪽 )

[munsonsmixtapes]

Baby

Evan "Buck" Buckley x shy!probie!fem!reader

part one part two part three part four part six

summary: you and Buck finally decide to take your relationship to the next level after he reads an excerpt of a smutty book to you in a bookstore

word count: 5.8k

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) oral (f and m receiving) Buck receives a handjob

You and Buck entered the book store hand in hand. Most of the books he read were for school and when he got older, they were either help or had to do with his profession. He never really thought about doing it for fun. But seeing your collection made him want to get into the kinds of books you read. 

He wanted to know what made you gravitate towards those above all the others. What was so good about the romance, the sex on page. Especially the sex on page. He had wanted to read some of your books when he had come over, but you had always stopped him because it embarrassed you.

“So where do we start?” Buck asked, rubbing his hands together as he looked around the store, the entire place filled with shelves and shelves of books. Before he could take it all in, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards your favorite section, Buck following blindly since he was happy to follow you anywhere. 

“Just follow me,” you told him. 

“Happy to,” he smiled even though you couldn’t see him. You were too focused on where you were leading him to and he looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes. 

You kept hold of his hand as you stopped at the romance section, your eyes lighting up as you looked at all of your options. You knew exactly what you were there for, but were now overwhelmed by all of the new options. 

You reached for one of the books you had come there for and after only a few minutes of looking, you were now holding five books. Buck just stood there and watched you in admiration, loving that you had a hobby that you enjoyed that much. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think there was anything he loved that much. Well, except for spending time with you. That, he had really grown fond of. 

As he stood there, watching you, a lightbulb went off. Standing next to you with his hand in yours, he was slowly starting to realize that he was falling in love with you. And hard. He decided that he didn’t want to be with anyone else. You were it for him. And thinking about spending the rest of his life with you made the tightness in his chest go away. All of the anxiety that seemed to linger completely disappeared when he was around you.

He had never felt that way about anyone before. Well, he had, but he always pushed it down, completely ignoring it. Falling in love absolutely terrified Buck. People always left him, so he tried his best to push down his feelings so he didn’t feel them. It was a kind of vulnerability that was foreign to him. But for you, though, he was ready to dive in head first. 

He could see it all, a proposal, a wedding, a cute little house with the white picket fence where your children and the dog you were going to inevitably have ran around the yard while the two of you sat on the front porch sipping from mugs filled with coffee. God, he was in deep and for once, he didn’t even care.

“Buck?” You asked, waving your hand in front of his face. He shook his head, completely zoning back into the real word. How long had he been out? His head snapped to you, your soft hand landing on his cheek. He immediately reached up and rested his hand on top of it, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes close. 

“Hm?” He asked, falling back into his dreamy state. 

“You okay?” You asked, your thumb moving back and forth across his cheek. He nodded, deciding that he was absolutely perfect, that this was exactly what he had wished for for years. Someone who cared about him in return. Because apparently that had been too much to ask until now. He gave and gave until he had nothing left and everyone always selfishly took all of his affection and ran. But you wouldn’t have. He was sure of it. 

“I’m perfect,” he replied, opening his blue eyes, staring into yours. 

“Can I take those for you?” He asked, referring to the evergrowing stack of books in your hand. You handed them off to him and he took them, holding them so gently as if he was cradling a baby in his arms. 

“You don’t have to do this, Buck. Seriously,” you told him, your voice getting softer. 

“That was the whole point of the trip, baby,” he reminded you. The whole reason why you had been there was to celebrate you being with the 118 for six months. And maybe Buck just wanted an excuse to spoil you, but he never would have told you that. 

“I just feel bad,” you looked down at the carpet you were standing on, but Buck quickly reached out and grabbed hold of your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“I have to spend my money on someone, don’t I?” He asked, tilting his head in that adorable way that you had grown to love. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But you have to get something too.”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “This is all about you. Did you still want this one?” He pointed at the one you had put back. You just nodded and Buck grabbed it and added to the stack before excusing himself to grab a basket.

You watched him make conversation with the woman behind the register that the baskets just so happened to be right by, feeling your heart swell. You loved seeing him interact with other people, the smile on his face becoming so infectious. He was just so sweet and kind that you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. You were in love with him. And the thing was, you didn’t want to stop it. 

You had the same bad luck in the romance department that Buck did. People just didn’t like how shy you were, how soft spoken. They didn’t like how you always wanted to stay in and read with a glass of wine as opposed to going out. But Buck, he embraced all of that, making you feel like you could be yourself around, something that had always scared you. He was slowly bringing you out of your shell but only on your own terms. He would never have forced you to do something that you didn’t want to, always telling you that it was okay to say no.

And when he told you that he was totally okay with taking it slow, you almost broke down in tears. None of your exes had ever been that gentle or patient with you. As soon as they found out that you weren’t going to put out, they hit the road, never wanting to speak to you again. 

You had had sex. Not as much as Buck, but you had a few times. You hated it every time, though. All of your partners had been selfish, taking whatever they wanted from you, not even bothering to check in and make sure that you were enjoying yourself. So after that, you vowed that you wouldn’t do it again. You couldn’t. The thought of being intimate in that way terrified you. 

That was why you sought it out in fiction. You could get all the pleasure you needed without a partner. In the dark of the night with nothing but the words on the page and your vibrator to get you off. It was the perfect combination and you were sure to cum every time. There wasn’t anyone there to take advantage of you or critique you, telling you that you weren’t being loud enough and you certainly didn’t have to fake an orgasm.

But lately, your mind drifted to Buck, letting him be the new main character in your late night fantasies. You never would have told him, but he was the one you were seeing as the main male character in your books. You had become obsessed with the idea that you were flying through more books than you normally did, wanting to see what the fictional versions of yourselves were going to get up to. 

“Got the basket,” Buck smiled, holding up the thing that was now carrying your books. You felt your cheeks burn as if he could have known exactly what you were thinking about. It was perfectly normal to have been thinking about your boyfriend in a sexual manner, so you didn’t know why you were so embarrassed about it. 

“Where to next?” He asked and you grabbed his hand, heading to the part of the store where you knew the historical romances were. 

Once you got to the section, you scanned the shelves, unsure what you were looking for, but wanting something. Those types of books were always super smutty and that was what you were in the mood for. You needed something to feed off of with your fantasies and there was no way in hell that you were going to ask that of Buck. 

“Oh, I think my mom reads these,” he said, reaching over your shoulder to grab one that had caught his eye. It was a pirate romance, with two people embracing on the cover, a man and a woman. The woman was wearing a dress that barely covered her body and the man was dressed in a puffy pirate-like shirt that perfectly showed off his muscles. He was looking down at the woman like he wanted to devour her and Buck could tell that that was exactly what was going to happen in the book. 

He flipped through the pages and you felt yourself blush as you realized what he was looking for. He stood behind you, putting the book right in your line of sight. Your eyes skimmed over the page he had opened to and you wanted to get out of there, but he had his arms draped over your chest, pulling you to him. 

“Wesley’s hand slid into Ari’s underwear,” he whispered into your ear, his voice all dramatic as he read. “His fingers found her cunt with ease and he slid them inside her, causing her to-” You weren’t even paying attention to his words, suddenly feeling wet. You had felt that way around Buck more times than you could count, but you were able to get it under control. This time, though, it was different. You suddenly wanted him, resisting the urge to take him right there against the bookshelf. 

“God, they really don’t leave any detail out, do they?” He asked with a chuckle as he closed the book, putting it back on the shelf. Your eyes suddenly closed, imagining just what it would have felt like for him to stick his hand down your underwear and do exactly what Wesley had done to Ari. “I can see why people like it, though. It’s hot,” he shrugged and turned to you, squeezing your shoulder to get your attention. 

“You okay?” he asked and you immediately pulled yourself out of your fantasy, turning to him, seeing his blue eyes filled with concern. 

“I’m fine. I think I’m good here.”

“You only got five books.”

“How many did you want me to get, because that right there is already over a hundred dollars.”

“I told you that there was no spending limit. Didn’t you have a couple on your TBR that you wanted to get?” It made you smile that he remembered all of the terminology that you had taught him. 

“No, I think I’m good for now. I-I need you, Buck,” you said, stepping towards him and he closed the gap, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m right here, baby.” 

“No, Buck,” you grabbed onto his shirt, fisting it. “I need you.” Oh. Oh. Now he understood. 

“Are you sure we should do this here?” He whispered. “Right now?” 

“We could always go to your jeep,” your finger ran along the hem collar of his shirt and a very flirty look appeared on your face. One that he had seen many times before, but never to that degree. 

“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to hold back a laugh. He then pressed a brief kiss to your lips and took you by the hand before leading you to the checkout counter. 

He set the basket on the counter with a big smile and wrapped an arm around you as the cashier rang up your books. Now he was getting antsy, but trying his best to hide it. He would have been happy waiting if that was what you wanted, but now that you told him that you were ready, he was more than happy to take that next step with you. 

Buck paid for the books and held the bag in one hand and your hand in the other as the two of you head to his jeep. Your heart was pounding as you realized what you were about to do, but you were also really excited, knowing that Buck was going to be nothing but a gentleman. 

He sped down the street to the apartment building where you both lived and practically dragged you to the elevator where he pressed the button for your floor since you would get to your place quicker. 

He really hoped that no one would be coming in and he pressed his lips to yours, slowly backing you up against the wall. This kiss had been more heated than your other ones. There was more passion. He licked into your mouth as your hands trailed up his shirt, pressing against his abs as you pulled his tongue into your mouth, giving it a suck. 

You could hear a whimper in the back of his throat along with the ding of the elevator, letting it know that it had stopped on your floor. You backed him out of the elevator and into the hallway, the two of you only breaking apart to unlock your door. 

As soon as you were inside, the door closed with a slam and you both kicked off your socks and shoes before he backed you up against the island, helping you up onto it as he spread your knees apart so he could fit between them. Your hands pulled on his shirt but his rested on top of yours, his blue eyes boring into yours. 

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He asked. Buck would have never forgiven himself if he had done something you had felt comfortable with. 

“Positive. I’m giving very enthusiastic consent.” 

“But just because you give it doesn’t mean you can’t take it away. Let me know if I do something you don’t like.” 

“And the same goes for you.” 

“C’mon,” he grabbed onto your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist before lifting you up from the counter. He then connected your lips, moving them together slowly as he carried you up the stairs to his bed where he laid you down. He hovered over you, so much love filling his eyes as he looked down at you. Your lips were so pretty and kiss bitten and your eyes were glazed over with lust and Buck didn’t think you could have ever looked more beautiful. 

He grabbed a condom from his bedside table and threw it onto the bed beside you before lowering himself down onto you. He kissed you slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world as his hands moved up your shirt, grabbing onto your bare hips, his rough fingers feeling so good on your warm skin. You suddenly wanted them everywhere. 

He slowly removed your shirt and marveled at your breasts clearly seeing your hardened nippled through your thin bra. You were absolutely magnificent. He peppered your chest with kisses as his hands slid underneath you to unclasp your bra. Once it was removed, he let it fall to the floor and looked down at your bare chest, taking it all in. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss between your tits before moving downwards, giving your stomach some love. You laid there, pliant under his touch, the whole thing already going much better than it had with any of your previous partners. Buck was so sweet and really seemed to care about how he was making you feel. 

His hands slid into your leggings and he slowly pulled them off of you, seeing the wet patch that was on your underwear as he did so. He then hovered his hands over your panties and looked up at you, as if to ask for permission. 

You nodded and a breathy “Take them off,” fell from your lips. Buck slowly removed them and spread your legs to get a good look at what he was working with. You were absolutely soaked and he was wondering just how long you had been holding that in. 

“Can I say something really quick?” you asked and Buck’s head snapped up to yours. 

“Anything,” he nodded, closing your legs as he sensed this was not going to be dirty talk. 

“I um-” you cleared your throat. “I can’t-I haven’t been able to-orgasm. At least not with a partner. So don’t feel bad if you can’t get me there, okay?” Buck was surprised by your words. He couldn’t believe that you were blaming yourself when not being able to orgasm wasn’t your fault. That was entirely up to your partner to get you there. 

“You know that’s not your fault, right?” he asked, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you as you sat up. “That was entirely up to them to make you feel good and they couldn’t do it. Did you not enjoy it?” 

“No,” you shook your head as your cheeks burned while also feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you finally admitted it. “But I feel like if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

“Do you want to test that theory?” He asked, his flirty tone taking over again. 

“Yes, please,” you said, lying back onto the bed. He pressed a kiss to your knee and spread your legs again. He grabbed onto your thigh and straightened out your leg before peppering it in kisses as he moved up it, wanting to warm you up before he dove in. He did the same thing with your other leg before draping both over his shoulders. 

He then slowly inched his face closer to your cunt, giving you opportunity to back out if you wanted to. He then slowly pressed his face into it. You let out a gasp when his nose brushed it and your fingers wound into his hair as he mouthed your clit, sucking on the spot and feeling his dick getting hard as a whimper fell from your lips. He licked and sucked on the spot, taking his time, fully intending to give you the best head of your life. A moan escaped from your throat and you both paused, Buck pulling away to grin at you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he urged. “Just like that. You’re doing great.” He dove back in for more, wanting to taste more of you, but to also hear more of your delectable sounds. His mouth was back on your clit in a flash, licking and sucking some more, trying to not smile to himself as you continued to moan. He had you right where he wanted you and he had barely even done anything yet. He couldn’t wait to see how you would react once he was actually inside you. 

He moved lower, tonguing your slit, licking back and forth between the seam before going in with his lips, giving it a hard suck as his hands moved up to your thighs, spreading your legs wider to have more access to you. He then lightly grazed your cunt with his teeth and his ears perked up at your loud moan as your thighs pressed against his head as your ankles locked together at the back of his neck. 

Buck continued his movements, loving how hard you were pulling onto his hair, knowing that you were enjoying it just as much as he was. You tasted so good and he loved how quickly he was able to make you come undone. He bet you looked so hot, so beautiful as the noises came from your mouth, wondering what you looked like when you orgasmed. He bet you looked so good with your mouth wide open, sweaty all over, your labored breathing. He couldn’t wait to see it. 

He shoved his tongue inside you and couldn’t help but notice how tight you were, but he wasn’t going to comment on it. He didn’t want to embarrass you and certainly didn’t feel like it mattered. He knew you hadn’t been intimate in a while and fully intended on making you feel so good, so special. 

He swirled his tongue around and was convinced that you were going to pull his hair out with how hard you were yanking it, but he hardly cared. You were reacting exactly how he wanted you to. His tongue hit just the right spot and your back arched in pleasure as a scream ripped through you. 

“Buck, oh my god,” you screamed as you reached your orgasm, stars forming in your eyes, your vision going hazy. This was exactly what you had been expecting with your other partners. It was all you wanted and apparently it had been very simple since it hadn’t taken Buck long to get you there. But that was what had separated him from your other partners. He had actually cared about what you had wanted, what had made you feel good. 

“More,” was all you were able to say in a whimper between breaths. “Please.” His tongue continued to swirl around, on the hunt for another spot and by another moan, he could tell that he had found it. He then removed his tongue from you and moved back to your slit, trying to lap up every last bit of slick that he could find. He licked and sucked, eating up every last moan you were able to give up, loving how crazy he was able to make you with just his mouth. 

Another screamed ripped through you and Buck figured it was time to call it quits, pulling his face away from you and sitting back on his knees. He looked up at you, feeling his cock getting hard as he was finally able to see just how fucked out you were. Your eyes were glazed over and your body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He didn’t think you could have possibly looked hotter. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “You can do that any time you want.” Oh, he was so going to take you up on that offer. Feeling his shirt clinging to him, he ripped it off of him and tossed it to the side before pulling off his jeans, hating the feeling of his clothing sticking to his sweat body. 

He then collapsed onto the bed next to you, feeling his cock ache from being so hard, but he felt like he needed to give you a minute to come down from your orgasm before he tried anything else. You turned to him, your eyes trailing down his body and stopping once they got to his cock that was very much tenting in his boxers. 

You wanted to see it, touch it, feel it inside you and maybe in your mouth. Definitely in your mouth. He could see you staring and you were glad he couldn’t see the drool gathering in your mouth as you thought about sucking him off. His cheeks burned and he almost wanted to cover himself up, but decided that he had nothing to be embarrassed about. You were his girlfriend and it was totally normal for him to be turned on by you. 

“I can…take care of that for you,” you told him and he nodded enthusiastically as a whimper passed his lips. He wanted you to do whatever you wanted to him. 

“God, please,” he whined and you spit into your hand and slowly stuck it down into his pants, going straight for his cock which was very hard and veiny and sticky. You pumped your hand and he let out a moan as you did so, finally able to let it free. You then helped him remove his underwear completely, his cock springing free, needing more room to work on him, everything getting crowded in his boxers. 

It was bigger than you imagined and you wondered how it was even going to fit inside you when the time came. Somehow, though, you knew he’d make it work. You watched him come undone as you continued to jack him off, your movements slow at first, but eventually, gradually getting faster as you got more confident in what you were doing. You watched his face, eating up every single movement and moan and whimper falling from his lips. His eyes were shut tight and his hands grasped at the bedding underneath him, already feeling like he was close. 

He let out a loud scream that mixed in with his heavy breathing and you continued, desperate to hear the sound again. You watched his mouth open wider, his name leaving your lips as he reached his climax, cum leaking from his cock as he did so. He was so hot and you needed to taste him immediately. 

You moved your hand from him and made eye contact with him as you licked the cum that had gotten onto it, watching his eyes widen as he realized that he had created a monster. Where had you learned to do that? Because he certainly hadn’t taught that to you. 

“Christ,” he groaned and you lowered yourself on top of him, pressing your lips to his before dipping your tongue into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to see what he tasted like. He took your tongue into his mouth and gave it a rough suck before pulling away, desperate to have you suck him off. 

You kissed your way down his chest to his stomach just like he had done, but you were slower with it, letting your tongue stroke his sweaty skin, taking your time to work him up again. You could feel him squirming underneath you, desperate for you and you just continued, wanting him to beg for it. 

“Baby, please,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms and you paused, looking up at him before moving even lower, making eye contact with him before slowly taking the tip of his cock into your mouth. You slovenly swirled your tongue around the head, trying to lick up every last drop of his cum. You looked up at him, watching him lose his mind and you like being on the other side, being the one to give the pleasure. 

You then took a little more into your mouth as your hand wrapped around the base, your tongue flattening against the underside of his cock, continuing to suck on him while your tongue gently stroked him. You hadn’t even done much yet and he could already confidently say that this was the best blowjob of his life. 

“Baby, oh my god,” he moaned. “So good.” You took that as an invitation to continue, sucking a little harder this time, removing your hand to take all of him into your mouth. He gasped as he looked down and watched you, quick to wipe away the tear that had fallen from your eyes.

“I knew you could take it,” he breathed. “I like this side of you, Jesus Christ.” Your hand reached for his balls and you fiddled with them before giving them a tight squeeze, Buck’s back hitting the mattress as he was becoming overstimulated. But there was no way that he was going to ask you to stop. He was enjoying it too much, the feeling of you sucking him off, watching you work on him, getting worked up just from seeing it all play out before him.

He was close, he could feel it building inside of him. Just one more stroke of your tongue and he’d be done for, absolutely fucked out. He was definitely going to need a break, but after that, he was going to fuck you senseless for giving him the best head of his life. Well, he was going to do that anyway. 

His back arched as he screamed your name, more cum leaking out onto your tongue. You slowly removed him from your mouth and swallowed before moving to lay next to him, the both of you getting under the covers. You both laid in silence, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breaths, the events of what had just happened replaying in your heads on a loop. 

His hand reached for yours and you let him take it, him giving yours a squeeze before bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. You turned to him, giving him a warm smile as your free hand moved to his hair, moving the hairs that had stuck to his forehead away from it. As he looked at you, hearts practically forming in his eyes, he began to realize that this was the moment. You had been so vulnerable with him that he felt like it was only right that he was the same with you. He took a deep breath, pulling up the script in his head that he had written out, but immediately trashing it, wanting this moment to be unscripted. From the heart. 

“I love you,” he said, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He hadn’t ever said those words to anyone. At least, not in a romantic sense. But as he said it, he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders as he watched your face change, a huge smile breaking out on your face. God, you were adorable. 

He loved you. He loved you. You had hoped he felt the same, but you hadn’t been exactly sure. Despite all of his bad luck in that department, he had let his walls down and let himself fall in love with you. He was so tired of fighting it, even though he had wanted to accept it. And now he had. And he had even been the first to say it, which was a surprise, but you weren’t sure that you could have done it. The vulnerability scared you. But not anymore. He had done the scary part and now you felt like you owed him the truth in return.

“I love you too, Buck,” you replied and in response, he pulled you on top of him, intertwining his fingers with your and pressing a big sloppy kiss to your lips. He smiled against them and you couldn’t help but mimic him, your teeth clinking together as a result. You laughed into his mouth and he didn’t think he could have been happier than he was in that moment. 

He sat up and pressed his back against the headboard and you straddled his waist, your naked bodies pressing together. Your hands moved to his hair as your lips pressed to his, your kisses slow and messy as if you had all the time in the world, because you did. Your tongue swiped along the seam of his lips and he let you in with no hesitation, letting your tongue swirl around his leisurely. You then pulled away before he was ready, looking him in the eyes and he knew exactly what you wanted. 

“I want to feel you,” you told him, your hand scratching at his scalp and his partially closing his eyes at the feeling. “Is that okay? I’m-I’m on birth control and I got tested not too long ago. I’m good.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “I want to feel you too.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and helped you settle onto him, both of you moaning at the foreign feeling. You hesitantly bucked your hips against his as you both moved together, trying to get used to being connected in that way. 

His hands moved to your back, cradling you as yours moved to his shoulders, your pace picking up every so slightly. He was so gentle with you, always checking in to make sure you were comfortable, guiding you in any way he could. 

This was the most gentle sex Buck had ever had and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t like it. He liked all of the slow movements and the way you two were connected in such a loving way, holding onto each other, almost as if it was an embrace. 

You continued to ride him as your head tilted back, a delicious moan falling from your lips. All of your shyness and embarrassment had fallen away and it had seemed as though the love confession had opened up a whole new side of you. A more confident side that Buck loved to be the only one to see. That you felt comfortable enough to let all your walls down and let him see the real you.

“Look at you,” he said through breaths. “Taking me so well.” 

Your pace picked up a little more and you were close already. So close that you could see the edges of your vision starting to haze. There was no way you could have ever slept with anyone else after this. Not like you wanted to anyway. You wanted to be with Buck for the rest of your life. You were sure of it, even if you weren’t quite ready to admit that to him or yourself. 

“So pretty when you moan my name, baby. I wanna hear it again.”

Buck watched another orgasm roll through you and wasn’t sure if he’d ever stop finding you screaming his name so hot. Your back arched, causing your stomach to touch his and then you eventually melted into him, your head falling against his shoulder. His hands moved up and down your back as he let your stay there as you came down from your climax. 

Once you were good to go, he helped you off of him and you both laid on your sides, chest to chest as you held each other, whispering “I love you’s” into the dark while sharing kisses and the moments when you first fell for each other. 

As you both fell asleep that night, all you could think about was how lucky you felt to have found a man like him. Maybe things between the two of you were a bit rocky at first, but now you were completely inseparable. Tied together by your love for each other and nothing, absolutely nothing would ruin your special bond.

[orphicsun]

hi!! could u pls write about prison vi or ellie x sweetheart reader who works as the librarian at the prison <3

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. (𝐕𝐈)

content: fem reader who works at stillwater's library, prisoner vi, fluff, powder mention, mention of implied sa, kind of angsty because i can't write stillwater without mentioning the injustice.

a/n: hi anon sorry for the long wait for this request i've been brainstorming for it but decided to wait until frenzy was out to start it. as for ellie, i have an ellie and sweetheart reader fic i've been working on! it's still deep in the drafts though. i hope you enjoy this:)

Stillwater's contents are harsh and hard to look at. The walls, stacks to the highest of heights, are simply grey bricks with cracks that will never see maintenance. The cafeteria's lighting is low and depressing, and the view of the prison from afar is of the alcatraz, only that prison would be a heaven for stillwater's inhabitants.

The cells are even worse, and that is where prisoners stay most of their sentence. Writings on the drab-toned walls is not uncommon. The beds are made of cheap steel, the springs imprinting into the backs of prisoners even through a mattress layer. Stillwater is the type of place you'd see parents make up scary stories about to keep their children out of inevitable trouble.

However, inside the high fence surrounding the institution, there lay one part that is less Edgar Allen Poe-esque.

You take pride in the library you've been given. Just on the first floor and to the right, prisoners can enter through the doors if they are permitted free time. Inside is your job and where you try to make the miserable a bit less miserable.

You were born in Piltover to a wealthy family, though you didn't care for the life of arts and exquisite tastes. Instead, you secured a well-paying job at a prison most people would rather gauge their eyes out than step foot in. It was when you caught a glimpse of a face through a dark, hidden cell that you accepted the job, and from there, you've tried your best to correct enforcer wrongs.

You sit at the front desk, a pen in your hand.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Around you is the library you've furnished with books-some your favorites, some you've found as donated treasures or upon a relative's dust-collecting shelf. Though it isn't much, you work with the budget given to, as the council calls it, "provide prisoners with educational resources." You'd like to say that it's more than that for you, however.

You've grown fond of a few prisoners, and some are regulars. Many don't bother with the library, but the ones who do are often the people that you think about at night. Their stories keep you up.

A single mother whose choices were limited, while the mouths she needed to feed were needy.

A man whose daughter was spotted on the street by a group of thugs, a man who would rather be put on trial for murders than know that the men walked freely.

Countless stories of people who deserved a lesser sentence or none at all, while the council's own crimes stack like a pile of dirty magazines.

One girl in general separates herself from the rest, however. You find yourself thinking about her the most.

Click, click, click, click.

You hear the door open, two enforcers present behind Vi. They shut the door behind her, and she walks towards you without much hesitation.

"Got anything new for me?" She asks, eyes briefly glancing over the stack of paperwork at your desk before meeting yours.

"It's been a while since you've visited." You notice, as if asking for an explanation.

"What, you miss me or somethin'?" Vi teases, laughing at the small, embarrassed huff that slips past your lips.

"I'm allowed to care for the people here, especially you. Please tell me you didn't get yourself into anymore trouble, Vi. I told you it worries me." Your tone carries a hint of worry that Vi is unfamiliar with in other people. She doesn't get much bonding behind bars, and to be frank, she doesn't know how to take it.

"It wasn't my fault." She says quietly, not quite meeting your concerned gaze. "I just want something to read. Anything new for me?"

You nod, stepping behind the desk and leading her to an aisle a few rows down. It's further out from your desk, and your heels are loud on the ground, especially loud with just you and Vi in your library.

"I'll never get how you walk in those shoes." You hear Vi say from behind you, and you laugh despite the jab.

"I'm used to it." You simply tell her, leading her down through the aisle.

"I forget you're a Piltie." Though that is another insult, there is something fonder hidden behind it. You know how much Vi hates the better-off, and if she forgets she hates you, isn't that a good thing? "You know, when me and my sister were little, I remember how much she wanted a pair of shoes just like those. I always thought they looked silly, but they kinda suit you." She says quietly, a softness in her voice.

You stop at the end of the aisle and grab a novel from the fourth shelf. You turn back to Vi and hold it up for her eyes to read over the title.

"Your Native Land, Your Life." Vi reads aloud, brows furrowed in confusion. "A poetry collection?"

You nod, a small smile on your face. "Yup. Some of her poetry took me a while to understand, but I think the read is worth it. Really beautiful stuff."

Vi nods, and you're glad she doesn't make a move to leave. You take in her tattoed face and the sharpness of her jaw. It always bothers you how little they feed Stillwater prisoners, but at the same time, something in Vi carries a beauty that you like to admire when you're allowed to.

You think that there is something sweet in Vi that can't ever truly die. You see many prisoners harden with their experiences in here, but not Vi. She carries herself with violence in her cell and throughout the hallways with the rest of the group, but the bits of information she shares with you regarding her sister tells you otherwise. The way she speaks to you makes you want to ask what you are to her, but you refrain. It's mere kindness, and you should be professional.

Still, you don't move away or scream for the guards as she currently leans in. You let her breath hit your face.

"You confuse the hell out of me." She tells you, quietly and intimately. When you seem confused, she continues. "I know you've heard the stories about me. The things I've done to people in here. Yet you still look at me like I'm as innocent as a doe."

"You aren't automatically a horrible person because you're here, Vi."

She scoffs, but doesn't step away from you. "I've done shitty things. Doesn't that make me a shitty person?" She speaks, low and vulnerable. Her voice is unusually small.

"I don't think you are." You say quietly. You can't help but smile at each other. Before you can even think, Vi's lips press against yours in a soft, hesitant but sweet kiss. You process what is happening and return the kiss. Your hands cup her jaw, fingers threading through her soft hair. She presses you against the shelf with a hand around your waist, but she doesn't press for more. Her lips move against yours affectionately for a few more seconds, lingering before she reluctantly pulls away.

This is what always gets you-that look in Vi's eyes, vulnerable and loving. You see it when she talks about things she loves, and you long for it when the prison weighs her down. Her thumb makes contact with your cheek and strokes the soft skin.

"You need to get back to your cell. It's almost lights out." You reluctantly say, still not pulling away. Neither of you can seem to seperate, wanting to prolong the moment. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble?"

"If it means I can visit you again." She plants one last kiss on your lips before letting you go.

You truly feel sympathy for all of Stillwater's prisoners. You think of them and their situations. You think about their families back in the undercity. However, you think of Vi the most, in the dark of your room. You'll let yourself think of her until you drift asleep tonight, and imagine if she were with you, her hands keeping you cozy and tight in her embrace.

taglist: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz (if the tag doesn't work it's because of your settings!)

[reasonsforhope]

Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

[pizzaapeteer]

speed dating

mattheo riddle x fem! reader. week 1 of @acourtofchaos festivalofau event!!

street racer!mattheo can't take his eyes off you even when he's driving, especially when you bring his heart to life by impressing him with your own skills.

an: big thanks to my love leigh for proofreading <3 I don't know anything about cars - this is very much inspired/uses fast and furious scenes, and I look forward to eventually writing a full fic for this au. ty for your patience as always <3 wc: 1.9k

"Okay, so next time, we're definitely dancing," you say with excited exasperation, the two of you exiting the rowdy Cuban restaurant and into the heart of street life. It's nearing 11pm on Friday, the beat of the night is picking up pace, like the rhythm of a song, the lively chatter blending into the roars of cars flashing by you.  

He laughs, shaking his head, "oh sweet cheeks, you won't catch me dancing," sliding his hands from his pockets, he places one on your lower back, gently guiding you respectfully. "Or at least not till the fourth shot of tequila."

The sound is so deep and rich; a low hum like a car's engine that makes your insides squirm with delight, and then he smiles like he's been doing all night. His lips curling up on the edges in a way that if his eyes weren't matching its sincerity, he'd have you queasy in an entirely different way. 

The way he looks at you, brown eyes that glimmer with warmth under the glow of the amber streetlights, as if light is blooming out from inside him. It's hard not to get attached, and that's the last thing you need right now. You've only known him a week. But there's something enticing, though dangerous about him, like a shot of whiskey knowing it's going to burn on the way down but overall spreading a fire of heat in the pit of your stomach. 

Offering him an infectious smile of your own playing on the challenge presenting itself. "Sounds as if you're encouraging me to get you intoxicated." Ardently, you raise a brow at his inquiry. "Is that something that interests you?" 

"There are a lot of things about you that interest me." His eyes sparkle with mystery, as he grins boyishly like he knew the affect those words would have on you.

You play it cool and collected, smiling back at him, the two of you strolling side by side, the silence isn't uncomfortable, and it hardly seems quiet with your heart becoming erratic, thumping around inside your ribcage like a hummingbird's wings. 

You pass by distinct smells of nicotine, a cigarette shared by couples couped in the alcoves of their doorways. Clangs and rackets of neighbourhood cats, balancing along fences, chasing one another. There are bopping beats of music heard from the thriving clubs and bars further down, invitingly attracting groups of young people from all over town. 

"So, this is me, my ride." Mattheo comments, as he stops you outside a parked bright orange car. He's offered to take you home, for a multiple of reasons. Some are selfish, wanting to show off his baby, not that he thinks you'll be highly interested, but it's his ego and pride, and it's worn just like the paint and wax shining proudly on the exterior. 

Other reasons, safety and protectiveness. He's always cared about women, and while he's only known you a week, he's grown extremely fond of you. He doesn't want you catching the bus like how you got here. And well, third, he just can't take his eyes off of you. He's never smiled so damn much on a date, the unfamiliar feeling of it beginning to make him nauseous. But it will be worth it, if it means he gets to see more of you.

"Woah, no way! You drive a supra turbo MKIV? That's so sick." The sudden and surprising exclamation from you makes his heart pound faster. Your jaw is practically touching the concrete, unable to pull your eyes away from the beast before you, a glimmer of awe in your eyes.

That is before you remember you're actually trying to impress Mattheo and not come across like a psychotic car fanatic, clearing your throat and tucking your hair back timidly. "I mean it's, um, a pretty colour." 

He laughs heartily, amused by your quick and terribly obvious action to hide your knowledge of cars. He flashes you a charming smile, feeling in wonder at the woman beginning to unravel, fishing his keys out. "You know cars?”

Pulling your eyes off of his car, you nod, admitting your fascination with them with a wide grin, "Yeah, a thing or two."

“You wanna take a spin?"

Flabbergasted, you speak, "What, seriously?" When you realize stupidly, this is your only way home you're clambering into the vehicle with buzzing excitement. It's so beautiful, the interior's sleek black seats lined with soft leather that have you sinking right into them. 

The dashboard illuminates, lighting up a neon orange, and the roar of the engine comes to life. It’s loud and powerful and makes your heartbeat full of adrenaline, a smile gracing your lips with excitement.

Mattheo's expression matches yours, his eyes blown a little darker, revving the car again, the deep rumble vibrating down to his bones. He flicks on the radio before he shifts the clutch into drive, taking off down the road and merging into the mainstream flow. 

It's busy, the night awakening with charged energy as Mattheo swerves in and out between gaps of cars, the wind blowing through your hair, the summer warmth of ocean breezes. "Where do you wanna go?"

You look over at him, only to find him already looking at you. The contact makes your pulse spike just like the kilometers increasing on the dash are. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, matching the roaring of the car. You don't even know him that well, and yet you have full trust in his ability to maneuver through the thick onslaught of traffic without looking.

He’s clearly got an edge of cockiness to him as his eyes continue to flicker back and forth, always taking the extra time to focus his gaze on you just a little longer. "Up for ice cream?"

The casualness in which he asks makes you laugh, "Might wanna keep your eyes on the road, pretty boy."

“Why you think we’re gonna crash?”

Flashing him a playful grin, you shrug. "Not sure yet. Should I be making a bet?"

He grins, enthused by your lack of worry, his hand shifting up the gear and pressing his foot harder onto the acceleration, the two of your eyes staying locked in contact. Mattheo's eyes no longer resembled that cool tone of warmth he exerted in the restaurant.

They shine brightly with a glimmer of exhilaration and a hint of darkening mischief. His smile is full and broad, expressing the thrill and joy he felt, like a boy with his favourite toy. 

The car zips with smooth control in between gaps, as flashes of vehicles pass in a blur on either side. The steady hum of vibrations continues drowning out the radio completely. All that's left is the wind, and the intense atmosphere shared between the two of you, making you wanna stay in the car forever.

A wave of disbelief cascades out of you with a breath of relief when he finally breaks, slowing down for the nearest stoplight. His eyes finally break their contact from you, and he relaxes his grip, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel. Taking the next right, he pulls up to the sidewalk, outside an adorable ice cream shop.

He tousles his dark curls, gazing at you with admiration he can't help but feel a sense of pride for your reaction to his flirtation. "How this?" Your body feels electric, the familiar dopamine rush fuelling every nerve. It's been so long since you got in a car this fast, you're craving more. "Not bad show pony." Grinning, you run a hand through your windblown hair, detangling the newly made knots.

"Driving or the dessert?" Mattheo asks, offering a toothy grin, angling his body towards you, resting his arms along the tops of the steering wheel. He's eager to impress. It's not often Mattheo wants to put real effort into his dates with pretty ladies. His mind constantly set on autopilot, a two-step routine. 1. Rev the beast and blow her mind and 2. rev his beast and blow her mind. 

And now he sits, admiring a beautiful woman, sitting in his passenger seat, looking like she's stepped straight out one of Enzo's automobile sex magazines. Excluding the lack of clothing, though, his mind has already gone there.

But there's something more about the way you're looking at him, a burning blaze of wildness that lights your face. It's radiant and alluring and he feels the pull, the magnet attracting him further in, something you're offering he didn't know he wanted.

You huff, amused, and don't answer yet, letting his question linger in the charged space between you two. "Both."

Pleased with your answer he begins to exit the car when you spit out the proposed suggestion, an itch that's dying to be scratched. "But! may I counter a second opinion?"

He sits back down at your polite protest, shrugging, he doesn't mind what the two of you do as long as you're enjoying yourself. "Yeah, sure just tell me where you wanna go."

"Actually, is it cool if i drive?" With a flutter of your lashes, you give him your best adorable smile full of sweetness, a known trick of yours to make a man concave in a heartbeat.

He raises an intrigued brow, wanting to make sure he's heard you correctly. "You want to drive?" The genuine smile on your face melts his heart, and he's suddenly stammering around like a dickhead, "Ah-I mean yeah alright."

As the two of you switch places, he can't help but think what the hell he's even doing, letting some random chick drive his baby. But it's that look in your eye, the sense of belonging and ease in which you sink into the driver's seat, that makes him relax with full faith you won't crash his precious car. 

Gripping the soft leather of the steering wheel, you immediately feel at home in the right seat. Familiar goosebumps of excited nerves prickle at your skin, turning the ignition, awakening the car back to life. Pressing your now bare foot hard onto the acceleration, you veer off, merging back into the nighttime flow of traffic. The prodigies breathe, blasts through the vehicle as you turn the speaker up, giggling with comfort. 

Mattheo watches bemused by your infectious happiness, how comfortable and free you appear. The wind fanning out through your hair, as you grip the wheel with a sense of familiarity glancing at him every so often with full-blown bliss. The car cruises into downtown Miami; zooming along the roads smoothly and Mattheo starts up the conversation again.

"Not bad-" his words halt on his tongue as the car swerves, swinging around wide, cutting across the next lane spinning in a 180, positioning the car backwards. That contagious laugh fills the car once again, as blares of horns honk from left and right at the sudden commotion.

His sweet brown eyes widen in surprise, and you giggle again at his reaction, snapping your head behind to see where to go. The car waltzes in and out of spaces, maneuvering skillfully between the lanes. 

He’s never believed in a god above, or soulmates or true love for that matter, but in that moment as his heart threatens to jump right out of his body he’s sure destiny has thrown him a bone and landed the most perfect woman in his lap. With everything he's learnt about you in the last couple hours, this knocks it all out of the park. How can a woman be this hot? His body is tense, including his cock that he swears is spurring to life faster than the miles on the dash are pushing. 

He's frozen, mesmerized at the scene, stuck in a state of pure astonishment and awe. His pulse is rising as he looks at the window, watching how the car swerves sharply. Repositioning itself facing forwards, to take the next right onto the offramp, leaving behind the sounds of tires screeching and another round of horns blaring behind.

Glancing at him, another free-flowing giggle escapes catching his bewildered stare, the car coming to a halt outside a charming sorbet parlour. Cutting the engine, you slip your shoes back on and exit the car.

He's still a little dazed comprehending the fact he wants to skip the rest of the date and drive you straight to bed the keys landing in his lap. You offer one of your famous shit-eating grins already on the pavement, “come on, keep up, Bambi.”

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ mattheo masterlist. ⤷ dividers. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2025. ty for reading!!!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (part 3/5)

(part 1) (part 2)

Summary: You've been adopted before. That's why you know better than to hope for another chance, especially a second chance with the Bahrs

-----

It’s not that you don’t want to be adopted. You just know that you’re not going to be. You’re the oldest in the orphanage, barely three years away from aging out. People don’t adopt kids your age, especially not obstinate, mean ones like you.

Besides, you’re a Hero. As soon as you master your power, you’ll be compelled to leave and fight evil anyway. That’s why it doesn’t matter if the Bahrs want you or not. You’re not somebody that’s supposed to have a family.

You barely remember the first time you were adopted. That was back when the Director of the orphanage was mean and biting. You have a vague memory of gold exchanging hands and leaving in the middle of the night. Your new parents barely looked at you and didn’t call you by your name at all.

You don’t remember a lot of that time. You were five and it was a struggle to go from living with a dozen kids to no one at all. Your new family gave you your own room in their small house and told you not to get underfoot.

The first time you ran away from their house, you didn’t get far. The baker in town brought you back to them and warned them about how kids your age are always slipping out when not paid enough attention.

“If you do it again,” the person who paid for you said, “you’re going straight back to the orphanage.”

And you do.

--------.

The day of the picnic, every kid wakes up early without being told.

You watch as Hera fusses over all the younger ones, straightening new shirts and brushing dust off knees. Josiah is reading one of the newest books Mrs. Bahr – Marie – brought, biting the skin on the side of his thumb. You snag Hera as she races to find Annie some ribbon for her hair.

“Hold up, let me brush your hair first,” you say.

Hera frantically pats the braids she slept in. “I forgot about my hair!” She turns large, watery eyes on you. “Islaaaa!”

You snort and help her unwind each braid. She decides to leave it down, charmed by the waves the braids left in her hair. Your hands don’t shake as you work even though your heart is racing. Today is the day of the picnic.

Today might be the day the Bahrs pick one of you to adopt. The younger kids don’t know that, the information carefully hidden from them, but Hera knows. Director Sarah knows. You know.

It’s been a long time since you felt this sort of anxiety. The second time you were adopted was just before the Winter and it wasn’t bad at first. The couple who adopted you ran an inn in town. It was exciting to have your own room and your new mother wanted you to call her Mom right away. Six-years-old and you were so excited just to be able to call someone your parent. This time you were going to listen. You weren’t going to run away or complain if their house felt too big and too lonely. This time you were going to get it right.

You didn’t think about what they wanted from you in exchange.

It wasn’t until the second week when they found out you weren’t really much use for anything that things started getting bad.

You breathe in through your nose and proclaim Hera’s hair finished. She thanks you and races off to find Annie, determined to put the ribbon she picked in the younger girl’s hair.

The Bahrs aren’t like the innkeepers. Whoever they adopt won’t be expected to know how to read or do math or how to take care of horses. If they are required to then Marie and Ivan will teach them first. Both have spent enough time at the orphanage for you to believe that. Isn’t it Marie who’s teaching all of you your letters? Wasn’t it Ivan who taught you how to better put up a fence?

Whoever they choose will be fine, you think. It’s both a relief and a sting. Whoever they choose will be fine. It’s just probably not going to be you. Not when Annie is so sweet and social and Hera is so strong and kind. Not when Josiah works so hard to soak up everything they have to teach him.

“Is everyone ready?” Director Sarah asks. She’s standing by the door. Her clothes are nicer than usual too, a dress made of a light blue fabric you’ve never seen before. Her hair is carefully combed back into an updo and fastened with a tie Hera made for her last winter. She runs a critical eye over all of you. “You all look very nice. Josiah, tie your shoes, please. Annie, leave the slate in your room, what you do if you lost it? Honestly…”

You let Director Sarah fuss over the kids, slipping out the door ahead of everyone. You don’t own a dress, but the button-down shirt is new and starched. Director Sarah helped you embroider bluebells on the collar and sleeves, and you think it turned out well.

You may not be getting adopted today, but you’re excited to see the Bahr family’s estate. The sun is warm overhead, the sky an endless blue. The summer is mild this year, perfect for a party. Isn’t that what Mr. Bahr – Ivan – told you to think of it as? A party. No strings attached.

A wagon comes up the lane. The Bahr family’s home is too far for the younger kids to walk to, past the town and closer to the Lord’s manor. They said they’d send a wagon for all of you, but something still clenches in your chest when you actually see it. Wagons are an expense the orphanage can’t justify, but, apparently, the Bahrs can.

The driver smiles kindly when he pulls up next to you. “Everyone ready to go?”

Before you can answer, the kids are pouring out the front door, chattering excitedly. You help Director Sarah lift the smaller ones into the seats near the front. The wagon is open topped, so Director Sarah can look over everyone sternly, twisting around in her spot next to the driver.

“No playing during the ride,” she instructs. “Mr. Dallen is very kindly driving us so you must listen to him, alright?”

Mr. Dallen also turns around. “I don’t have too many rules,” he says. He pretends to think, scratching his thick beard.  He grins “Don’t fall out!”

He’s joking, but that’s why you’re stationed at the back of the wagon. From your seat, you’ll be able to stop any roughhousing before “falling out” becomes a real danger. Already you’re eyeing the way Josiah is fidgeting. He’s incredibly calm when he’s reading, but otherwise he’s like a tornado. There’s a reason he’s the one that fell into the well in the first place. Hera sits primly next to him, her hands folded in her lap. You can tell she’s watching him from the corner of her eye. There’s a reason she’s the one who pulled Josiah out of the well.

Mr. Dallen directs the horses away from the orphanage, through the orchard, and along the road cutting through the fields. When you’re going to the forest to hunt, you take the narrower path that winds through the orchard and more directly into the tree line. The wagon is forced to stay on the wider road where the horses won’t sink into any mud and the wagon wheels won’t catch on rocks or dense foliage.

After the fields is the town. The kids wave to every Villager and Blacksmith they see. “Good day!” “Morning!” “We’re going to a picnic!” Hera pulls Annie back from the edge of the wagon before she tips over onto the street.

You slouch in your seat, wishing you were wearing a hat. While the first family who adopted you left town ages ago to live in the Capital, the innkeepers are still around. You don’t look as you pass their business and try not to listen to Josiah carefully sounding out the name of their inn.

When you open your eyes, Director Sarah is looking at you. You okay? She mouths. She wasn’t at the orphanage for your first adoption, but she was there for the innkeepers. You feign going to sleep. Just tired. She pretends to believe you and turns back to continue chatting with Mr. Dallen.

The kids are excited to go through the forest. Many of them are too young to even go into town with Director Sarah, a privilege you earn at ten years old, and they point to every bird, deer and mushroom they see amongst the trees. You let the sound of nature and the kids’ chatter lull you into a sort of meditation. The estate is only thirty minutes away now that you’re out of town.

You’re nearly dropping off to sleep when Director Sarah’s voice changes in pitch. Your sensitive hearing can pick up a thread of concern in her voice. What makes Director Sarah concerned, makes you concerned.

“—demons in the woods,” Sarah is saying very quietly. She glances out of her peripherals towards the back to make sure no kids are listening. If she notices how you’re only pretending to sleep, she doesn’t show any sign of it. “Shouldn’t we ask the kids to be quiet?”

“The Lord’s Knights have been patrolling,” Mr. Dallen says equally quietly. You can see him scan the trees for a moment before he smiles reassuringly at Director Sarah. “We’ll be okay so long as we stick to the road.”

“Alright.”

You keep a closer eye on the surrounding forest.

“There! There it is!”

Annie’s shout drags you attention from a (suspiciously) shadowed gully. The woods have thinned enough that hedges of the Bahrs’ estate can be seen. You’ve only been out this far once, a long, long time ago. You’ve never been past this point.

You’re just as surprised as the rest of the kids when the hedges give way to a castle.

That’s not a manor. You’ve never seen either, but you’re sure of this. Manors are supposed to look like the orphanage or any of the buildings in town, just larger. The Bahrs’ home has towers. The front doors are three times the height of a regular one and you can see that the handles and knockers are made of copper. The stone isn’t white like the castles in picture books, but it’s clean and neatly cut.

“Wow,” Hera breathes.

You agree.

Mr. Dallen directs the horses right up the main driveway, cheerfully explaining that the roses are the flower of the estate, aren’t they beautiful? Even Hera can only manage a faint noise of agreement, eyes wide on the house.

“The party’s around back,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He clicks his tongue and the horses stop just short of the front doors. “I’ll take you there.”

Around back. You expect him to lead you around the side of the castle, past rows of rose bushes and the fountains that are tucked between the hedges. Instead, Mr. Dallen opens the front doors without knocking and directs everyone to follow him.

You’ve never seen anywhere so grand. The kids follow Mr. Dallen in hushed awe, gaping at the marble staircase that bisects the foyer. There are two chandeliers to either side of the grand staircase that each send a spray of rainbow light across the walls. Is the manor a little bare? The walls empty of portraits and artwork? You eye a pair of crossed axes hanging just beyond the shadow of the staircase.

“They’re ordering portraits from the Capital,” Mr. Dallen says, gesturing carelessly to the space where a portrait of the homeowners might hang. Then under his breath, “Unless they hang more swords there instead.”

“Excuse me?” Hera asks.

“Nothing,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He guides them past the staircase and a row of doors to the back of the house. The large doors at the back of the house are already open. Mr. Dallen cups a hand over his mouth and calls, “Ho ho, look here! Look who’s arrived!”

“Surprise!” Ivan shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. He’s standing on the stone patio just outside the house, but he’s not the only one. Mrs. Bahr is next to him, her hands clasped in front of her, beaming. Behind her is a dozen other adults. “It’s a party!”

“Welcome,” Mrs. Bahr says warmly. She’s dressed elegantly in a long, red tunic that’s embroidered with the Lord’s crest. The Lord is here as well, his golden hair and eyes unmistakable even amongst the crowd. “Welcome to our home.”

You’re already at the back of the group, but you hang back further as the younger kids cautiously step out into the sun. Your eyes flick from face to face. You recognize a few of the people. There’s the Baker from town and her wife, there’s the Merchant that comes through every third week, there’s the Villager that donates zucchini—

And there are the innkeepers who, once upon a time, told you to call them your parents. They’re older than you remember, light hair gone silver in the sun, but it’s them. They’re right by the Lord, eagerly waiting near him for the opportunity to talk.

It’s very clear what this is. You watch the kids stream out onto the patio to greet Ivan and Marie. The other adults study the kids like zoo animals, eyes flicking to their clean party outfits to their happy faces. This isn’t a party for the kids. It’s a party for them. They’re showing off to each other. Look at how great they are! They’re helping out the poor orphan kids! You’re very familiar with these sort of events from back when the other Director was in charge. You just didn’t think you’d ever have to be near one again.

You take a step back and are stopped by Director Sarah.

“It’s okay, Isla,” Director Sarah murmurs. You didn’t even notice her falling back to your side. Her hand is gentle on your elbow. “It’s not what you think.”

Not what you think? You watch the Villager who runs the general store ask Josiah about the book he’s reading. The Bahrs are proudly introducing Annie and Hera to the Lord. There is something different about it, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. All you can see is the way the adults are watching the kids. You breathe in through your nose like Ivan taught you. In. Out. “What is it?”

“Fixing my mistake,” Director Sarah says.

That gets your attention. Your eyes dart from the happy scene in front of you to Sarah and back again. With the white umbrellas over the food tables, the streamers strung between garden trellises, and the kids dressed in their best, it looks like a painting. In contract, Sarah’s lips are pursed and the shadows of the house make her appear more tired than she is.

“There’s a parlor,” Mr. Dallen says. You jump when he speaks and he grimaces apologetically. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “If you need to talk.”

Marie is looking over the heads of the kids to where you’re standing, a frown on her face. She mouths your name, concern in her eyes. Your jaw clenches when the Merchant steps in front of her, hiding you from view.

“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s talk.” You spin on your heel.

Sarah follows you silently. You feel wrong-footed and caged by the entire situation. This was supposed to be a picnic, wasn’t it? No strings attached? Your dress shirt is tight around your neck and you flick open the top button.

“I should have told you,” Sarah says as soon as the door closes. There are two couches in the room adjacent to a large window that overlooks the party. Neither of you sits down. Sarah folds her hands in front of her skirts. “I apologize.”

“What are they doing here?” you ask. You gesture to the window. “The Lord, I understand. He’s the Lord. But the Baker? The Merchant?” You bark a laugh. “They’re not here to adopt anyone.”

“Maybe not,” Sarah says evenly, “but they’re good connections to have.”

“Connections?” You scoff. You remember watching the empty road through that winter nearly seven years ago. “What good are their connections?”

“Annie loves baking,” Sarah says. She doesn’t flinch in the face of your anger. She watches you calmly and doesn’t so much as shift her weight when you start to pace. “The Baker is a good connection for her to have, even if she doesn’t want to adopt. Many of the shopkeepers in town are open to taking on apprentices.”

You falter. You didn’t think about that. Your eyes drift towards the window. You can hear Hera laughing and Josiah complaining good naturedly. You’re nearly 15, just a few years away from aging out. You can’t say you’ve never thought about the future before. “They said they’d be willing to do that?”

“Who knows what the future holds?” Sarah sighs and goes to take a seat on the sofa. She makes a sound low in her throat when she sits. “That wagon ride was not good for my back.”

“I don’t trust them,” you say. You stop pacing to sit opposite her. From this point in the room, you can see the party on the patio. They can also see you. Ivan doesn’t turn away from the dessert table, but you can sense his attention on you. You swallow. “We don’t need anything from them.”

“I agree,” Sarah says.

You blink. “What?”

Sarah laughs. It’s not her usual laugh that she shows the kids, gentle and fond and warm. It’s cold and a little sharp. You’ve only heard it once before when the snow finally melted, chasing the snow spirits away, and the town came to see what had become of the orphanage.

“You and I are a lot alike,” Sarah says. Her eyes drift somewhere distant. “Like you, I remember that Winter. I remember waiting for any sort of response to our pleas. I remember hearing nothing back. The helplessness I felt as our stores dwindled…” Her voice cracks. She shakes herself, swallowing hard. “Well. I don’t need to tell you what their lack of aid cost us.”

It takes you two tries to speak. Director Sarah feels the same way as you. “So why?”

“Why did I agree to the party?”

“Yes.”

“Because I need to forgive, not forget, if I want to fix my mistake,” Sarah says. Her lips thin. “I’m not perfect. Since I’ve been Director of the orphanage, there hasn’t been a single new hire. There have been no volunteers or extracurricular programs for the kids. I’ve kept us hidden.”

“You’ve kept us protected,” you say. Things under Director Sarah have always been better than what they were before. The kids are happier and brighter, and the pantry is always full. No one disappears in the middle of the night or dies under her watch. “We know you have.”

“I’ve tried,” Sarah says. She opens her hands, palms facing the ceiling. “I rebuilt the orphanage to be independent. I thought that if we were completely self-sustaining, we’d be alright. But in doing so I’ve hurt the children. The orphanage is not supposed to be forever. They need connections with people, with the town, for when they grow up.”

“That—” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You fall silent, your anger fizzling out in your chest. She’s right. As much as you want everyone to stay together, you know that can’t happen. What Sarah is saying isn’t wrong, but… “Today is supposed to be for the kids. Not for them to feel better about themselves helping the orphans.”

“The kids are having fun,” Sarah says. There’s a peal of laughter from outside as if to underscore her words. She smiles as she stands. “Kids includes you too, you know. Let me worry about the adults.”

You stand too. You know the conversation is coming to a close and that, soon, you’ll be expected to go out there with Sarah. “Um…”

“Yes?”

You nearly don’t say it. But the way Sarah is waiting for you to speak is so patient that you muster up the courage. “The innkeepers are here. They aren’t…?”

Again, you’re not sure what you’re about to say. There’s a sick fear in your stomach that they’re here to tell the Bahrs all about how awful you were when you with them. Maybe they’re looking for another kid to demand too much of. Maybe they’re here because, in the end, you didn’t mean anything to them and what happened between you and them doesn’t make a difference--

Even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, Sarah must. Her smile darkens. “I’ll take care of the adults,” she repeats. She smooths her hand over your hair when you follow her to the door. “Why don’t you stay in here for a moment? I’ll just have a word with the innkeepers.”

You wait in the parlor while Sarah joins the party. You twist your hands together to keep from picking at the embroidery on your sleeves. You almost want to stop Sarah from talking to the innkeepers. It was so long ago, before the Winter, it shouldn’t matter anymore. You’re being ridiculous to be so worried about them when there are bigger things going on. You—

Hera throws open the door to the parlor. Her braids are a little frizzy already and there’s a flush high on her cheeks. “Isla! We’re playing team tag and you’re the only one fast enough to catch Marie. Come on!”

You don’t have the option to say no. Hera yanks you by the sleeve out onto the patio. The guests are much more dispersed now, pockets of adults around this table or that. They’re not studying the kids now. They’re just watching them as they run to and fro across the lawn, bemused smiles on their faces.

Ivan cheers when he sees you. Like Hera, his face is bright red. “Isla!” he pants. “You’re on my team!”

Marie sprints past, her skirts hiked up to her knee. She runs as if she’s in full armor, strides long and shoulders square. You wonder if she notices no one is chasing her anymore. “It won’t be enough!” she cries.

Josiah is laying on the grass. He chucks his fist in the air. “Go, Marie! Go!” He gasps for breath. “We’re unstoppable.”

“You’re out,” Annie tells him crossly. She’s also laying flat on her back, but seems to be faring better in the breathing department. “You’ve stopped.”

“Shut it—”

You scan the crowd. You don’t see the innkeepers anywhere, not even near where the Lord is sitting. You look over your shoulder back towards the house just in time to see Director Sarah disappearing around the corner. She’s talking to someone just ahead of her. Is she escorting the innkeepers out?

“Isla?” Hera slips her hand in yours. Her eyes are knowing. “You okay?”

You clear your throat, aware of all the eyes on you. You tuck  some hair that’s escaped her braid behind her ear. “Just trying to decide which team I should join.”

Ivan cries out in dismay. “Isla, please!”

Grinning, you join the game.

-----

(part 1) (part 2)

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read the conclusion of Isla's tale before next week, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

Up this week is a continuation of my Cinderella Retelling, Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairytales

[fairestwriting]

hihi! i love ur writing soso much!! could i request jamil, idia and jade with an s/o who has a flashy fashion sense? specifically alternative, if thats alright :3

IT’S MORE THAN ALRIGHT this was fun to do… maybe just a tiny bit self indulgent . i miss my emo phase dearly

𐙚 Jade Leech

Jade likes interesting people in general, having an unusual fashion style is just one out of many possible ways to catch his attention. NRC does have a lot of students with some pretty out there looks, but… if you stare for long enough, it’s too easy to recognize all the patterns.

One of his favorite things is seeing the different ways to incorporate whatever your style of choice is into your school uniform. The dress code isn’t *that* strict, sure, but it still doesn’t enable any particularly flashy looks all that easily— He does genuinely admire the creativity and effort you put into details like accessories, or how you do your hair and makeup. He’ll want to hear about the work that goes into it, even though it’s not anything he plans on personally getting into.

Likes how funny you two look like next to each other, especially when you’re off campus and you get to really dress up the way you like. He’ll happily stand next to you in whatever obscure shop or thrift store you like to shop at, in his crisp dress shirt and classy loafers. He’ll carry all your bags and just absolutely bask in the amusement from the weird looks others throw your way.

If you’re not really into DIY yet, Jade might be the reason you end up getting into it. Sooner or later, he’ll come across it online when researching the things you like — Which of course he’s going to do, he needs ideas for the gifts he wants to buy you — and his mind immediately starts to wander to what sorts of things you could do with it. He’s your number one business casual supporter.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Honestly a little on the fence about it at first — Not because he’s judging you for how you look or anything! — but just on an instinctual response level. You’re so clearly going against Jamil’s own personal rules of blending into the crowd. It just kind of makes him feel a little uneasy, even though he does feel it’s sort of stupid to feel like that. He’s just imagining how it must be to get all that unprompted, unpredictable attention…

But when he gets past that feeling, he honestly likes it. It makes him feel more comfortable to stand out around you, he’ll still hold back when he actually has to for whatever reason, but he’s less guarded than he would be with others. Besides, it’s fun to hear you talk about how you style things, and if you’re into a music-based subculture he’ll definitely want to check out the stuff you listen to.

He can relate to the experience of sometimes taking a significant amount of time to get ready, even though his reason and outcome are both vastly different from yours. And he does use magic for things like styling his hair now, but he still had to learn how to do it manually before that! Jamil finds that he does like to get ready with you when you’re going out together.

When doing that, he finds out you two have more to talk about in the topic of fashion than he imagined. He definitely knows a thing or two about makeup, and while he’s a bit clueless on alternative hair styles, he can definitely teach you some of the magic he uses for doing his own— He’s curious about what sorts of looks you’ll come up with, if you’re able to speed up your routine.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

Honestly. He’s definitely that kind of guy who at least once posted some kind of meme about wanting a goth girlfriend. And you might not be exactly goth, or not exactly a girl, or even neither of those things— But the sentiment still applies. It’s not necessarily about that specific of a type of person, but rather about having a partner who radiates that sort of... confidence maybe? Just that energy of being so comfortable with standing out.

You probably will have one conversation about his “makeup” that ends a little disappointingly for you. Idia doesn’t really wear any, his face just looks like that, he tells you. No product recommendations from him, sadly… The look in your eyes after you hear that makes him want to get into it, though. He doesn’t want to stand out like you do, but, well. He already stands out even without trying, doesn’t he?

He doesn’t believe he’s doing it when he’s asking you about the places you shop. Even if your personal style isn’t really the “darker and edgier” sort of alternative (Like most gyaru substyles for example) that he ends up getting interested in, you’ll probably still know a thing or two about how to get that look, right? Idia stresses over and over that he doesn’t want anything too flashy or elaborate, just maybe some accessories or new shoes…

Idia will be really nervous to go shopping with you, if you two decide on doing that. He’s always a little anxious to go out, but there’s an extra serving of it because he knows he’s going to be trying something new— But he’d definitely end up feeling pretty at home in whatever the Twisted Wonderland equivalent of Hot Topic is. Fully committing to any subculture is a bit too much for him, at least right now, but if you want to get matching bracelets or something, he’ll be happy to do it.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[werecreature-addicted]

this is really specific but imagine being a Farmer and taking in a Minotaur who was abused and used for fighting. And like he’s bred to be a absolute f**cking tank. im talking like 8’6, scars and muscles, massive strong horns, callused hands etc. Because of the abuse and the fighting he was forced Into all his life he hates all humans, but for some reason he doesn’t want to hurt you. And as the months slowly rolls by he starts to warm up to you to the point he lets you touch him…Just for a little bit though

He is always surprised by your kindness. He's known many humans, and none have ever smiled at him like you do. Or ask him how his day has been. What surprises him most is how you always look him in the eyes when you talk to him. You never bark orders while absentmindedly checking your phone or blatantly examining his muscles while asking him to do labor. You always look him in the eye, or at least you look up. Sometimes it's hard to meet his gaze, especially if the sun is in your eyes and you can't quite make out where his head is. But that little act of respect almost always surprises him. It's almost like you see him as an equal.

You always say please and thank you. Even when he's just doing his job, work is the only reason he's here, yet you act like he's done you a huge favor when he does something as simple as refilling the watering cans. He almost never responds either, He just grunts dismissively. That never seems to bother you. No, nothing as shallow as a bad attitude would darken your sunshine.

It's funny. He's never really "liked" something about a human before. He's respected some of them. He's admired the bravery of the ones stupid enough to step in the ring with him. But he actually likes your positive attitude, and how nice you are... and your smile.

He likes the sunshine. On sunny days when there isn't much work left, you'll often find him lying in the middle of the field, enjoying the sun. He doesn't mind talking about his scars if you want to ask. Though, to be honest. He doesn't remember the details of most of them. It's all the same story anyway. A fight. A lance to the side before the fight to make him mad. A beating after he lost a fight. The individual scars all seem to blur together.

You show him a few of your scars, and you seem to remember the stories better. There's a web of scaring over the back of your hand he's noticed before but never asked about. You tell him you were stringing up a barbed wire fence, and the wire cut your knuckles. It bothers him for some reason. You're so sweet, never having been in a fight, and still you have scars. He doesn't like the idea of you being hurt. He tells you if the fence ever needs repairs he'll do it for you.

You're always careful not to touch him. He flinches if you so much as move too fast, and well... he is an animal, a reactive one at that. You're right to be cautious around him. It doesn't hurt his feelings. He respects you for the space you give him. He does have a sneaking suspicion that you want to touch him.

When he tells you about his past, you'll reach for his hand before pulling away and telling him how sorry you are to hear that. Or when he hands you something, you'll brush your fingers against his, even when you're normally so cautious to not let that happen.

Your eyes land on a piece of hay striking out of his messy hair right by his ear. You point it out but, he can't seem to find it himself. He always just barely misses it. Eventually, he crouches and bows his head low enough for you to reach the top of his head.

"Can you uhm, will you get it for me?" he asks shyly. You nod and easily pull out the hay. you pull away but he stops you.

"Wait- just check for anything else stuck in my hair, please?" he asks. you comply, running your fingers through his hair and checking for any more hay.

He still doesn't like being touched, but it's nice to know that your hands are soft and your touch is as kind and gentle as everything else about you. He wonders if touch could feel good and if you'd be willing to show him.

[miniwheat77]

Army Green. (Ghost x Virgin!Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Age gap (Reader is 20, Simon is 32), unprotected sex, p in v sex, virginity loss, animal getting hurt, Simon in distress, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. (Sorry if I missed any.)

It’s a sunny day, you’ve spent most of the day outside.

Mostly working on your yard, but you didn’t always mind. It did get rough sometimes of course, living alone and doing all of the work constantly. You lived in a pretty small house. It had a smaller yard, gravel driveway. It was fenced in. It was nice.

Sometimes the work piled up, getting busy, trying to pull yourself out of a funk. Especially because doing 100% of the work was new to you. Since you’d just gotten out of a serious relationship. It was a tough situation. You’d moved out with your boyfriend at 18. You were together for the better part of your teenage years, your first real boyfriend, the only serious boyfriend you’d ever had.

The break up was miserable and rough. The fights were bad, the messages were vulgar and laced with venom. It was a really rough breakup that left you damaged.

You went from a two person household, to one. Having to work more to pay the bills, having to pick up the rest of the household chores and somehow still stay sane. It was tough, but you managed. You had a few friends that helped you stay busy, and you were thankful for that.

You were sitting on your couch, it was the weekend and you didn’t want to spend all of it doing yard work. Your friends were supposed to be coming over and you were excited to spend the night with them. Just as you finished cleaning up your house, you heard a knock on your door. Knowing that it was your friends, you yelled for them to come inside. They walked in with all kinds of drinks and snacks in their hands, ready to have a good night.

“Dude, your neighbor is super weird.” One of them mumbles. “He wears a mask with like.. a skull face on it.” She mumbles. “Yeah?” You laugh. “Why does that make him weird?” You question her. “That’s all he ever wears. I’ve never seen him in anything else.”

“So what. Maybe he doesn’t want people seeing his face.” You shrug. “Whatever. I think it’s weird.” She shrugs. “Maybe he’s like.. super hot and doesn’t want people to know.” Your other friend smiles. “Maybe. Walk over there and find out for me.” You nudge her. Earning a laugh from them. “You’ve never met him?” She asks. You shake your head. “No. I’ve actually never even seen him, I didn’t know he wore a skull mask.” You shrug. They laugh. Eventually the subject changes.

Later that night as you’re sitting on the couch, you’re all about to go to bed. “What if your neighbor is super hot?” She asks again. “There’s tons of hot people, be specific.” You toss a piece of popcorn at her. “I mean.. what if he’s like super hot. You should talk to him.” She shrugs. “Um. I’m pretty sure he’s like 30.” The other one laughs. “Oh.. well damn.” She sighs. “What’s wrong with him being 30? Why would that stop me?” You ask. They both look at you like you’ve just called them the worst names known to mankind. “Jesus! You whore!” They laugh. “I’m serious! What’s wrong with that.” You giggle. “Just.. not your own age?”

“Maybe that’s why guys suck so bad. Maybe we need to branch out a bit. Go for the weird old guys that wear skull masks.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Maybe.” You smirk. “Nah, I’m not trying anything with anyone. Maybe not ever after Wesley.” You roll your eyes. “Oh please, Wesley wouldn’t see a good girl if he got hit by one.”

“Clearly.” The other rolls her eyes. “It’s just because I wasn’t ready.” You mumble. Earning glances for them. “Ready for what?”

“Sex.” They perk up. “What? You were together for that long and never had sex?”

“No?”

“Why not?”

“Because.. I’ve never had sex before? And wasn’t ready?” You laugh awkwardly. They’re both staring at you in confusion. “Well shit. We didn’t know that.” They laugh. “Damn. Whole new perspective.” They laugh softly.

“Yeah, my poor ‘old’ neighbor probably heard those nasty fights, no way he’d fuck around with a girl like me.” You laugh. “Never know until you try.”

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight you two.” You laugh, walking back into your bedroom. You settle into your bed, eyes heavy as you fade into a deep sleep.

You hear whining outside, it startles you awake.

You look at your phone, it’s early. The sun has just barely risen, it’s still mostly dark. Cascades of blue painting the sky. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you hear it again. It sounds like a dog in pain.

You climb out of bed, walking out to your living room. You can still hear it faintly. Your friends are still asleep on the couch and you open your front door quietly, peeking outside. It’s cold, chills creep up your legs and arms immediately, maybe a bad time to sleep in a tank top and shorts. You step outside, covering yourself with your arms as you look around for the sound you’re hearing. You notice the noise is louder now, along with rattling. You spot a dog, it’s got it’s paw stuck in your fence. Fairly close to your bedroom, that’s why you heard it.

“Shit-“ you mumble. You jog lightly to get to her. It’s your neighbors dog, you assume the one with the skull mask. “Hey, stop moving.” You mumble as she tugs to free her paw. You hear a door open and close behind you, noticing it’s your neighbor.

And he doesn’t have on a skull mask.

“Shite, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she’d gotten out.” He says as he jogs to you. You can hear the gravel giving away under his feet. “It’s alright. No worries.” You mumble. You unwrap her paw. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” You mumble. As she whines more. Once you free her paw, she frantically licks at it. “Let me see it darling.” You breathe, reaching your hand out. To your surprise she lies down, rolling onto her back so that you could get a good look at her. Your neighbor crouches down to check the rest of her as you look at her paw. “Just a scratch.” You smile. “Yeah, she’s a bit over dramatic.” The man laughs. “I heard her whining.” You laugh. “Yeah. If I accidentally bump her she’ll yelp like I’ve cut her leg off.” He smiles. His accent is thick and his voice is incredibly deep.

And your friends were absolutely right, he’s hot as hell.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met.” You stand up. He stands up with you, reaching his hand out. “I’m Simon.” You send him a smile. “Y/N.” He smiles. “Ah, and this is my dramatic princess Paisley.” He looks down at her. “Nothing wrong with a little bit of embellishment, gets the attention you need.” You smile down at her. He laughs at this. “Anyways, sorry for waking you, love.” You feel your cheeks warm at his pet name. “No worries, I’m just glad she’s alright.”

“Cmon, back to bed with you.” He nods his head at the dog and she walks with him back to their house. You make your way back to your door, stepping inside. You forget that your friends are there and they stir awake with the sound of your door closing. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

“My neighbors dog got stuck in the fence.”

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine. But you were right. He’s hot as fuck.” You laugh. Walking passed them, going back into your room.

—

It’s been a while since you’ve had a day off, picking up extra shifts and doing more and more work so that you could afford your house. It was getting rough. You didn’t see much of your neighbor, aside from passing. He did always wear a skull mask which you found weird. Until you were up early and seen him leaving one day.

He was wearing full military attire, Paisley had on a vest and he was telling her to get into the back of his truck, that’s when it clicked.

His accent, why he was always gone, his large build, the mask. It all made sense now.

Your next day off, you’re sitting in a coffee shop with your friends and they’re making fun of you. It’s a gathering, an every once in a while coincidence that all of you had the same day off. “So what’s going on with everyone else? I feel like I’ve been talking about myself this entire time.”

“Not much.” Everyone mumbles.

“Oh, Y/N’s neighbor is smoking hot, I’m waiting for her to announce that she has a controversially older boyfriend.”

The girl next to you is loud when she says it, earning an elbow to the side from you. “Ohhhh. Tell us more?”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve talked to him once, his dog got her paw stuck in my fence, there’s nothing weird about that. Although he is very, very attractive.”

“It’s weird, he always wears a skull mask.”

“Oh!” You sit up. “I know why. I saw him leaving the other morning wearing full military gear. That explains the accent and everything.” You laugh.

“Accent?”

“Oh.. I forgot to say that? He’s British.”

Their mouths drop, and you can’t help but blush at your spaced information.

“No way, Y/N. If you don’t have sex with that man right now..” she laughs. “Oh god, I am not ready for that. I just got out of a shitty relationship.” You laugh. “Well.. just out of curiosity.” She sips her from her cup. “Just how much thinking have you done about Wesley since you talked to your neighbor?” She teases. You roll your eyes which makes them all laugh. “See!”

“Christ. You guys are ridiculous. I have to go do yard work.” You roll your eyes.

“Look sexy!” She calls out as you exit the building, your cheeks are on fire.

When you arrive home, you look up at the sky, noticing the brewing storm. Maybe today was a bad day for yard work after all. Just as you make your way inside, the rain starts to come down. You sit down on your couch, deciding to watch a show instead.

You lose track of time. You could hear the rain pouring down outside. Thunder making you jump slightly.

A knock at your door has you whipping around. You stand up, slowly making your way up to your door. You open it slightly, noticing your neighbor. He’s soaking wet. “Uh.. hi. Sorry to bother you so late. I just.. have you seen Paisley?” He asks. “Uh.. no I haven’t. Is something wrong?” You ask, opening the door up wider. “I let her out earlier and she never came back in. I think she ran off.” He sighs. “I’ve been looking everywhere and I can’t find her.”

“Let me put some shoes on, I can help.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” He sighs. “No, she’s a good girl, I wouldn’t want something bad happening to her.” You smile. Once you’ve slid on shoes and a jacket, you’re stepping out into the rain.

Ghost notices your tattered old skate shoes immediately. If you’ve got a boyfriend, why isn’t he taking care of you? Ghost knows he’s seen a guy around.

Behind your houses was a huge patch of trees, that’s where the both of you decide to look first. You’re calling out for her, walking along. You part ways when you get into the trees. Calling out for her. You don’t see anything and it’s getting darker as you walk along.

Ghost is somewhere further away by now, he’s calling for her, but she isn’t coming. He stops with a sigh. “Christ, where the fuck are you, fucking dog.” He growls.

“Simon!” He hears you yell. “Y/N?”

“I found her!” You call to him. He quickly makes his way over to you, seeing you’ve got a hand on her collar. “Ugh, damn dog.” He breathes. “Home now!” He says sternly, Paisley bolts for his house immediately. “Sorry. You didn’t have to come out here.” He laughs. “I don’t mind the rain.” You laugh, walking towards your houses with him. “Not real good shoes for bad weather.” He laughs. “Oh psh these? They’re fine.” You wave your hand. “What, your boyfriend doesn’t spoil you?” He laughs. “Oh god, I don’t have a boyfriend.” You laugh. “What? Who was that guy than?”

“Uh.. well. He WAS my boyfriend. But.. it’s a long story.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He laughs awkwardly. “Oh it’s fine.”

“I’ve got a fire going in my house, if you wanted to dry your clothes out. You could talk about it if you want.” He shrugs. “Uhh. Sure.” You shrug. You follow him up to his back door, he opens the door up for you. You step inside and he shows you to his living room, where he had a pretty wood stove going. Lined with bricks. “Give me a moment.” His house was really nice. You wait before sitting down, not wanting to get his couch wet. “Here.” He passes you a towel and a shirt. “It’s an old shirt of mine.” He nods. “Thank you.” You smile. It’s Army Green.

He shows you to his bathroom and you change quickly, making your way back to his living room. You notice that he’s put your shoes on the tile in front of the fire to dry them out. You can’t help but smile.

He brings out tea and sets it down on his coffee table, sitting in the chair across from you. You pull his shirt down over your knees, making sure you’re covering yourself. Your panties had gotten wet and you had to take them off too. “Why did you guys break up if you don’t mind me asking?” He asks. “Uhh.” You laugh. “I found out that he was talking to a couple other girls. Meeting up with them and.. yeah.” You look down. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He breathes. You smile, looking up at him. He’s no longer wearing his mask.

“Honestly? I thought it would hurt more.” You shrug. “We.. I mean we’d been together for a long time but our relationship wasn’t serious. I didn’t really have any feelings towards the end, not after all of the things he said to me.” Ghost tilts his head. He’s curious.

“Uh..” you shift awkwardly. “I.. this is probably too much information but.. we never.. slept together. I just wasn’t into it, and he hated that I wasn’t. He said a lot of gross things to me.” You shrug. He nods his head. “How old are you?” He asks. “I’m 20.”

“How old was he?” He asks. “21.”

He smiles. “There’s your problem darling.” He laughs. “He’s just.. stupid and immature. I was at that age too. You’re too young to be worried about all of that anyways.”

You smile. “How old are you?” You ask. “32.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, m’ an old man.” He laughs. “You do not look 32.” You smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He winks.

“You need new shoes.” He nods to them. “Uhhh. Yeah. That has to wait.” You laugh. “Hm?”

“I can barely afford my house, those shoes will just have to do. They’ve done me good.” You smile. You move to stand in front of the fire, crouching to pet Paisley who’s laying in front of it. Ghost stands up too. “How about we check you out, make sure you didn’t get into something.” He breathes, rolling paisley over onto her back. He runs his hands along her fur. Feeling that she’s fine as he stands back up. He towers over you, and now you really feel how close you are to him. “I can help you get new ones.” He nods. “No.. that’s not your job.” You shake your head.

“Course not, you could work for it.” He smiles.

Your eyes widen. “Not- Jesus. Not like that.” He laughs. “Oh good.” You breathe out. “Had me worried for a second.” You laugh. “Got a dirty mind.” he rolls his eyes. “I mean.. if you babysit for me when I’m gone.” He nods. “I usually have her boarded at the base but.. they keep her cooped up a lot there.” He looks down at her. “Simon, I don’t mind watching Paisley. You don’t have to get me anything. She’s a good girl, I don’t mind.” You smile. He nods his head. “Thank you Y/N.” He smiles. “Of course.”

You’re warm from the fire, spinning around to warm your front. He does the same. Looking at the dancing flames through the glass. “Do you have a wife or anything?” You ask. “No.” He laughs. “My job isn’t good for relationships.” You nod your head. “Fair.” He laughs. “Why?” He asks. “I was just curious.” You say nervously. His smile is flirty, and you’re worried.

Not because he intimidates you.

You’re worried by how much you like it.

“You sure?” He looks at you, making you turn your head to look at him. “Mhm.” You smile. He takes a step toward you, making you step back.

Back hitting the wall with a gasp. “Might be overstepping here..” he laughs. “But he was stupid to fumble a girl like you.” He breathes. He’s toying with the shirt you’re wearing. You take in a shaky breath, looking up at him. “Simon.” You start. He tilts your chin to make you look him in the eyes, leaning into you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. You part your lips, not saying a word. After a second, you nod your head.

He closes the gap right away, kissing you hard.

Your friends were going to freak when you told them.

You feel his fingertips gliding up your thigh and you gasp into his lips as he glides them over your bare opening. “Ah- Simon wait!” You breathe. Pushing him back slightly. “I.. I-“ you’re stuttering, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood..” he breathes. “No- no it’s not that. I.. I liked it. I just.. I’ve never done this before.” You breath, looking up at him. Your cheeks are burning, because his fingertips touching you is the first time a man has ever touched you like that. And this is only the second time you’ve ever interacted with him. “It’s alright.. I know you haven’t known me long.” He laughs. “No.. I don’t mean..” you clench your eyes closed. “I’ve never had sex before.” You sigh. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh.. well. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, I had no idea.” He steps back.

“You didn’t. I.. I liked it.” You swallow hard.

He crosses his arms. “Have you ever been touched.. at all?” He asks. You shake your head. “Have you.. done anything at all? Like.. touched yourself?” You chew on your lip nervously. Shaking your head again. “I’ve tried but.. it’s.. weird.” You bring your hands behind your back. “It’s not weird, not if you’re doing it right.” He looks at you. The room is dark, the lights are dim and the fire illuminates it slightly.

“D-do you think you could show me? W-what it feels like I mean…” You look up at him.

“Yeah, of course. Cmere.” He tilts his head, reaching his hand out for you to take. He walks around his couch, pulling you with him. “Go ahead.” You sit down. “Lay back sweetheart.” He nods. You’re nervous as you lay back. “If you don’t like what I’m doing, if you want me to stop at all, you tell me okay?” He says. “Of course.” You nod.

He pushes the Army Green shirt up over your hips, you’re bare. Wearing nothing underneath.

He glides his hand up your thighs, feeling you shiver as he does. His fingertips gliding over your exposed flesh, rubbing over your opening. When he touches your clit, you flinch away from him. He forgets that you’re untouched.

Sensitive, easily stimulated. He chuckles. “Relax. You’re tense.” He breathes. He moves himself over you, pressing his thigh right up against your opening, hearing a gasp from your lips. He lowers himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours again. You kiss him sloppily, cheeks flushed, your tummy feels warm as he rocks his thigh into you. You whine into his lips, raising your hips to meet him.

He pulls away from you, kissing your chin and down your neck, pushing the shirt up and over your chest. Exposing every part of you to him. The first man to ever see such sensitive parts of you. He attaches his lips to your nipple, hearing you gasp. You lift your hips into him, wanting more. But he takes his time with you. You’ve never felt this way, never been so turned on before. He finishes showing your nipples attention and moves lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. You’re nervous as he moves himself between your legs. He looks up at you, leaving a kiss to your thigh. One kiss to your swollen clit and you were done.

You let your head fall back, he pushes his hands up his couch, entwining his fingers with yours as he spreads your folds with his tongue. It takes just a few minutes and you’re crying his name out in the perfect symphony. Your stomach is moving with the way you’re panting and you can barely hold still. He moves his hands away from yours, holding your hips down. Sucking and lapping at your clit, pushing his tongue into you slightly. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. You can feel something building. “S-Simon. Feels funny.” You whimper, lifting yourself up to rest on your elbows. Watching him eat your pussy like it’s the sweetest ice cream he’s ever had.

You feel his fingertips gliding over your entrance, and you gasp when he pushes one inside of you. Curling it right into your spongy spot. You can’t hold yourself together, especially not when he adds another finger, scissoring them. A cry leaves your lips, it’s a desperate moan. Something that tells him that you’re just about to cum. You can’t say anything which is what he wants, he’s cornering you right into pure bliss, leaving you nowhere to go. It feels like your body bursts into flames when he works your pussy to an orgasm. The first of many that he’s going to give you. Your eyes are full of tears and clench shut as he works you through your orgasm. Until you’re sensitive and squirming. He finally pulls away from you, moving himself above you again, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him. You’re breathing hard when you pull away, looking up at him. Like he’s just killed an army in your honor.

“How do you feel?” He asks. Your lips are parted, you want to say something but you can’t. He chuckles at your trance-like state. “It’s alright. I know it’s a lot.” He smiles, pulling the shirt down to cover you. Pulling you up until you’re sitting up to look at him. “I feel good.” You finally say, cheeks burning. “Good, I hope so.”

Your eyes are lost in him and he says something but you don’t even hear it.

He waves in front of your eyes, chuckling when you flinch away. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “You alright, space cadet? I wasn’t too much was I?” He laughs. “No.. no.” You giggle, “sorry.” You blush. “First time is always intense. I get it.” He smiles. Leaning into you. “Can’t wait to see how spacey you’ll be when I fuck that pussy for the first time.”

You swallow hard, eyes clenching shut. You’re quiet.

A laugh is what makes you open your eyes. “I’m only kidding. Relax.” He stands up. “Unless you want me to of course.” He winks at you.

“I know you have work tomorrow, I’m keeping you up.” He laughs. “Let’s get these shoes on you and I’ll walk you home.” He smiles. He kneels down onto one knee, reaching out for one of your shoes. It’s dry and warm.

You’re surprised at first.

He’s actually putting shoes on you, like you’re some kind of princess.

He helps you up, throwing one of his jackets over you and holding your clothes. The storm has passed now, it’s only dark. When you reach your front porch, he passes you your clothes. “I can go change and give you your shirt back.” You stutter when you say. He’s making you nervous. “Don’t worry about it. Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.” He smiles. You blush, looking down. “Thank you, for helping me find Paisley.”

“Of course. I don’t mind at all.” You smile. “Um.. t-thank you for um..”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He laughs. “Sorry..” you blush. “It’s alright. Get some sleep.” He smiles.

You smile. “Goodnight Simon.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” He nods. “Oh.. wait. Can I have your phone number? Since you’re willing to watch Paisley for me.” He playing his eagerness off. “Yeah of course.” You smile, walking toward your couch where you had left your phone. You pick it up and walk back to the door where he was waiting, passing it to him. He types his phone number into your phone and sends himself a text with it. “Awesome. Thank you Y/N. Goodnight now.” He smiles.

“Goodnight Simon.”

—

“You seem to be in a good mood LT.” Soap smiles.

“Something going on at home?” He smirks.

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Not now Soap.” He rolls his eyes.

“Who’s the girl, you’ve been checking your phone every 10 minutes.” He crosses his arms. Ghost sighs. “It’s my neighbor. I asked if she’d watch my dog. Stop being weird.” He shoves passed Soap. “Aw Cmon. I’m your friend.” Soap scoffs. “I tell you everything. I’ve never seen you act this way before.”

Ghost sighs. “Alright fine. Yeah, something happened between us and I don’t know what to think of it. But she’s kind’ve way out of my league.” He mumbles. “What do you mean by that?”

“She’s 20.”

Soaps eyes widen. “Jesus. A tad bit young don’t you think.” Ghost looks at him unimpressed. “She’s been my neighbor for a while, I thought she was older.” He shrugs. Soap laughs. “Nah, women just mature way before men do.” Ghost snorts. “Yeah. Well.. what I did with her last night I can’t really come back from.” He laughs. “Did you sleep with her?” Simon shakes his head. “No.. but. I don’t want to talk about it. Paisley got her paw stuck in her fence a few weeks back and I went out to check on her and she was helping her. Last night, Paisley didn’t come back when I let her out, so I stopped by and asked her if she’d seen her and she said no, but offered to help me look for her.” He shrugs. “So.. if you did stuff with her, why didn’t you have sex with her?” Ghost flinches. “She.. uh.” He laughs nervously. “She’s a Virgin.”

Soap’s eyes are wide. “Christ. You’ve got yourself into quite the situation Ghost.” He laughs. “Yeah. You’ll have to see her.” He mumbles. “Take me with you when you drop Paisley off for a mission sometime.” Soap crosses his arms. Simon laughs. “Alright. If you insist Johnny.”

“I’m good at reading people, I’ll tell you if she’s good for you.”

“She’s not good for me, I haven’t felt like this in forever.” Soap raises his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “That means she’s good for you. You’re supposed to feel happiness.” He rolls his eyes. Ghost laughs. “It’s bad for a man like me. I’ve lost everyone, makes me vulnerable.” He mumbles. “So don’t lose this one.” Soap pats his shoulder.

Ghost shakes his head. “It’s never been in my control. But.. me being vulnerable, means that I can be very dangerous. So let’s hope this goes alright.”

—

“You WHAT?” She yells from the other end of the phone, you can hear her coughing violently on her coffee. “Uh.. yeah.”

“Did you have sex?” She asks. “What? No. He just.. he. We didn’t have sex.” You blush. “What’s gotten into you?” She squeals, making you laugh. “I don’t know. I guess I just really like him.” You bite your lip. “Damn. Who would’ve guessed. A 32 year old in the military is your type.” She laughs. “I know right. I don’t know. He’s.. ugh.” You sigh. “I’ve talked to him twice ever, and he’s already been so much fucking nicer to me than Wesley. I just.. don’t even know what to say.” You laugh. “That’s how you’re supposed to be treated Y/N.” She laughs. “Maybe he’ll be really good for you. Maybe you’ll get married and have a bunch of kids.” She snorts. You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I have to get back to work.” You mumble. “We’re not done talking about this. You’re telling me every detail later.” She mumbles through the phone, making you laugh. “We’ll see.” You say before hanging up.

You bite your lip.

You can’t stop thinking about the night before. What he said to you.

“Can’t wait to see how spacey you’ll be when I fuck that pussy for the first time.”

Your stomach turns and you feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of it. You needed to get your mind off of this. You stand up, heading outside to find something to do.

You’re sure you could find some yard work of some kind to do.

You look around your house, noticing the patch of grass by your driveway was mixing with gravel. You head back inside, changing into more comfortable clothes to do this task. Not paying any mind to whos eyes may be on you. Simon was meant to be at work anyways. You get a rake, raking the gravel back into it’s dedicated location. You needed to plant more grass seed, maybe line it with some spare bricks to keep the gravel away from it. It’d keep Paisley away from the fence to avoid getting her paw stuck. Simon really needed to fence his yard in to keep her inside. Although she was a pretty large dog, she’d probably just jump over it. You’re carrying bricks when Simon pulls up, Soap is in his passenger seat. “Is that her?” Soap asks. “Oh.. yeah. I guess so. I thought she was supposed to work today.” He mumbles. “Guess I’ll get to meet her sooner than later.” He smiles. You’ve got your ear buds in, not paying any attention. “We’re just checking on Paisley, get your head out of the gutter.” Ghost mumbles. As soon as Simon opens the door, Paisley bolts to your house. “Oh Jesus Christ, seriously!” He mumbles. Paisley attacking you with kisses, jumping on you catches you off guard.

“Oh my gosh!” You laugh. Turning your face to avoid her sloppy kisses. Simon and Soap approach, and you’re petting Paisley. “Hi darling, I’m glad to see you’re okay after your great escape.�� You smile. When you glance up and see Simon walking toward you, another man behind him. “Thought you were supposed to be at work?” Simon asks.

“Ah, a bunch of offices flooded last night in the storm, mine included. So I’ve got a couple weeks off while they renovate.” You smile. “Ah, paid I hope?” He laughs. “Oh yeah. I would be out looking for another job otherwise.” You laugh. “That’s good though, a nice break.”

Ghost looks at Soap. “We just stopped by to check on Paisley. This is Soap by the way.” He nods. You look confused. “Did you say Soap?” You ask, looking at him. Soap laughs. “My name is Johnny, but you can call me Soap.” He nods, reaching his hand out. You take it, shaking his hand. Ghost feels jealousy boiling through him when he touches you. He doesn’t like that. “Civilians don’t get the nickname, Ghost.” Soap judges him. You tilt your head. “Ghost?” You smile, crossing your arms. “Nice. A weird duo but I like it.” You laugh. “I like the Mohawk too, don’t see that haircut much anymore.” You nod. “Thanks.” He smiles. “Oh no, don’t go giving the bloke a big head.” Simon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I’m gonna go find Paisley. She’s nicer than you.” Soap rolls his eyes. “Nice meeting you, lass.” He smiles. “Nice meeting you too.” You wave.

Simon lingers behind. “Why’re you not relaxing?” He laughs. You blush, looking down. “Can’t sit down for too long or I’ll think about what you said last night.” You laugh. “Ah. That makes sense.” He laughs. “I can give you something else to think about if you want.” He chuckles. “Jesus Christ.” You roll your eyes.

“I think Soap is getting impatient, Ghost.” You call him by his nickname and he freezes up. He laughs. “Don’t call me that. Not unless you’re moaning it.” He turns to walk away from you, hearing you laugh. Mumbling a ‘Jesus’ under your breath.

—

As he works, training new recruits, helping out anywhere he can, preparing for missions. He thinks about you.

The jealousy he felt earlier with Soap, it worries him. He’s getting too close to you. He knows it. The last time he did this, he got hurt. Irreversible damage to him that he still suffers from. He needs to stay away from you, but he fears it’s too late.

You’re so kind. Naive in a good way almost.

You’re so nice, so sweet. Even Paisley likes you.

He can’t focus on work without thinking about you. Zoning out as he loads everything up. The way that you sounded with his face buried between your thighs, he thinks about how you’ll sound when he-

He groans out in frustration, earning a couple glances. He throws down the wrench he’s holding, cursing under his breath.

Soap and Captain Price exchange a worried glance as he storms off.

Soap can’t help but laugh when he’s gone, the door shut and latched behind him. “Something going on with him?” Captain Price asks. “Yeah, a girl.” He snickers. “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

“No.” He laughs. “She’s his neighbor and they aren’t.. anything just yet. But I guess he had an encounter with her.” Captain Price nods. “Women. They’ll do that to ya.” He laughs, picking up the box of ammo and walking to the back of the Humvee. “Tell me about it.” Johnny smiles, digging through the box of tools.

Captain Price sets down the box of ammo in the back of the vehicle, swiping his hands off together to get the dust off of them. “Suppose I’ll go talk to ‘im.” Captain Price mutters as he makes his way into the office that Simon had gone into. He opens the door, seeing him sitting at the desk. He’s got a water bottle in front of him and it’s already almost gone. “You alright Simon?” Price sits down in the chair across from him. Hearing Simon sigh. “M’fine Price.” He mumbles. “Johnny told me a bit about your troubles.” He smiles. Ghost rolls his eyes at this. “It’s alright, maybe we can talk about it. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” He shrugs. “What, is this a therapy session?” He jokes. Earning a snort from his Captain. “I’m serious, I’m a wise old man with a lot of advice.” He smiles, setting his hands in his lap. The dad energy that Price gives off warms Simon’s heart in a way. “I don’t know. She’s my neighbor and she’s a lot younger than me.” He sighs. “I just think I’m going to end up getting myself into something dumb with her.”

“Well.. what’s she like?”

“I.. I mean she’s nice. She lives on her own. She.. said that she just got out of a relationship.” He sighs. “Oh? Did she say why?”

“He cheated on her because she wasn’t ready to… take the next step with him.” Ghost shrugs. “Hm.. do you know anything about her background? How responsible she is?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve only talked to her twice but the second time.. we were alone and things escalated.” He mumbles. “So.. you had sex?”

“No.” Ghost laughs. “She’s.. a Virgin.”

Captain Price’s eyes widen, and he shifts uncomfortably. “How old did you say she was?” He asks.

“20.”

Captain Price nods his head. “Hm.. well. What does she do in her spare time? Do you know?”

“She.. mostly just works so that she can pay her bills and hangs out with her friends.” He shrugs. “Do you know where she works?” Simon nods. “A bookkeeper for a construction company. She’s worked there since she was eighteen.” He nods.

“So.. she’s got a stable job.. can take care of herself.. she seems really mature.” Price shrugs. “I know it seems weird that she’s so young, but women mature a lot faster than men.” Captain Price nods. “You’re both consenting adults, who are responsible and can take care of yourselves.. I know you’re afraid of being hurt.” Captain Price sits up. “But you’ll never find your forever if you don’t put yourself out there and be vulnerable for others.” He smiles. Simon nods his head. “I know.”

“You’ll have to bring her around, let me judge her myself.” He smiles. Earning a snort from Simon. “Yeah, Johnny said the same thing.”

Price stands up, patting Simon on the shoulder as he goes to exit. “You’ll never know until you try, Simon. Don’t give up just yet.” He nods.

Simon sighs when the door closes behind him. What the hell was he getting himself into.

Later that day, Simon had come home. He didn’t see you and decided to leave everything be for now. Deciding to watch a show and drink a beer. Give himself time to relax, as bad as he wants to spend this time with you. He sighs, hearing Paisley scratching at the door, whining. She’s pacing back and fourth. “It’s probably just a Racoon. Down girl.” He breathes. But she doesn’t calm down. “Paisley, please. Give it a rest darling. I’ve just let you out.” He groans.

Nothing seems to calm her. He stands up, setting his beer down. He makes his way over to the kitchen to discard his empty beer bottles, setting them by his sink. He glances up through his kitchen window for a second, when something catches his attention.

You’re talking to a guy.

Not just any guy either, your ex-boyfriend. Ghost feels himself stiffen up, eyes narrowing as he looks outside the window. It seems as if you’re having a normal conversation with him. Ghost quickly moves to the back door, cracking it open and holding Paisley back as she tries to force her way outside. “Stop, sit.” He growls.

“Look.. I’m sorry okay? I miss you.” He hears him say it. Ghost can feel himself tensing up. "You need to leave. I won't ask you again." You breathe. "And if I don't?" He sighs. "What are you going to do hm? Nobody will come for you. You're just a stupid girl Y/N." He can hear him. He can hear you laugh. "Go." He hears you growl. "I'll tell the neighbor if you don't go." Simon's smile is too wide upon hearing that. "The neighbor? What, are you friends now?" He hears him scoff. "Come on, let's just talk baby, I can take your mind off things for a while."

"Simon!" You yell, Simon stands up immediately, ripping his door open and stepping outside. He can see that he's got a strong grip on your upper arm. When he sees Simon step down the few concrete stairs, he lets go. "Seriously?" He can hear him scoff. "She doesn't need you, go back inside and mind your own fucking business." He growls. Simon makes his way across his lawn, crossing the gravel of your driveway. "She is my business. She is now." He crosses his arms. "And if you want to leave here in one piece, I suggest you get back in your car and drive as far away as you can." He says it casually. "Yeah? Or else what?" He asks, making Simon raise his shirt up over his hip, not only does he expose his insanely fit body and v-line, but there's a pearl gripped pistol sitting in his waistband. A whistle leaves his lips and Paisley bursts out of his house, bolting to stand next to him at attention, staring your ex-boyfriend down. "Go." Simon nods.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "What, you fucking him?" He looks at you, teeth gritted behind his pursed lips, you glance at Simon before looking back to the ground, swallowing hard. "Some virgin huh?" He shakes his head. "This is fucking stupid, don't even know why I bothered with you." He growls. He walks down the concrete path by your door, walking around and climbing into his car, speeding off. "Go home." Simon mumbles to Paisley. "Hey. You okay?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah.." You shake your head. "I'm fine. Just.. yeah." You breathe. "Cmon, I'll make you some tea." He tilts his head for you to follow him. You nod your head, following after him. He leads you into his back door, closing it behind you. You notice Paisley laying in her bed in the living room. "I didn't think you'd be able to hear me." You breathe. "Was worried for a second." You laugh nervously. "Paisley was stressed out, kept harassing me. I happened to notice.” He mumbles. “You were listening?” You ask. “Just.. making sure nothing happened. Suppose it’s a good thing I was though.” He reaches up into his cupboard, shirt rising until you could see the Pistol grip.

You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

“Simon?” You say, stepping closer to him. “Yeah?” He asks, turning to face you. Once he’s close enough, you lean in, kissing him hard, cupping his cheeks so that he can’t pull away. “W-woah.” He breathes. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Just kiss me.” You pant. He sets everything he has in his hand down, returning his lips to yours and moving you so that he could pin you up against the countertop, feeling you moan into his mouth. He reaches down, grasping the back of your thighs and lifting you up until you’re on the countertop. You rest your hands on the countertop, pushing your hips forward. Like you wanted him.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. You pull away, looking at him, reaching forward and raising his shirt up. Getting a good look at his gun. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.” You look up at him, taking a deep breath. “What? Told some scumbag off?” He laughs. “Defended me.” You breathe. “Seriously? Not ever?” He asks. You shake your head. “Please keep kissing me, Simon.” You whine. He leans into you, kissing you again. Stiffening up when he feels your hand on him through his jeans. He groans into his lips when you palm him hard through them. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” He breathes. “Yes.” You whine. You sit up, reaching with both of your hands to unbuckle his belt.

He reaches down, hand gripping onto the cool metal of the pistol, setting it down on the countertop. Leaning in to kiss your neck as you pulled his belt apart and started on his jeans. You can’t help but glance at the gun as it sits there. You’re starting to realize just what kind of man Simon is.

A strong military man. A guarded one at that. He’s nice but gruff, quiet and observing. And something you’ve noticed since meeting him, since Paisley got stuck in your fence.

He’s protective of what’s his.

“Simon.” You pant. “What baby?” He breathes.

“I want you.” You breathe. “But.. you.. you’re..” he looks down between the both of you.

“Please, I want you to take my virginity.” You whine. Pushing your hips out. He takes in a deep breath. “Are you sure?” He asks. You nod your head. He pushes his pants down his thighs just enough to reveal himself to you, hearing you sigh when you see the size of him. “S’alright. Will only hurt a minute.” He moves closer to you. He tugs your pants down, discarding them to the side somewhere. Seeing all of you once again. He spits in his hand, focusing it on the tip of his cock. “Are you sure? Once I take it, it’s gone.” He breathes. “I trust you. I want you to take it.” You pant. He pushes your legs open, getting a good look at you. “Just relax for me.” Your heart is racing and he can hear it thumping in your chest from where he stands.

“If you let me do this..” he trails off, circling your opening with his fingers again, going to take his time stretching you out before he takes what’s rightfully his. “You’re mine.” He leans into you. Lips ghosting over your throat, right where your jugular vein sits beneath the surface. “Simon.” You breathe out.

“I think I was always yours.” You look him in the eyes, watching him stiffen at your sentence. Eyes darkening as he stares at you. “Fuck.” He growls, gritting his teeth. He presses the tip of his cock up against your entrance, tip pressing between your sopping wet folds. He forces you to look at him, taking his time thrusting every inch into you. He holds your throat, not cutting off your oxygen but just enough to hold you still. When your eyes flick down to watch him sink into you, he growls. “Look at me.” He growls. “Keep looking at me.”

“Simon.. it hurts.”

“I know baby.” He breathes. “S’alright, just for a minute. One minute.” He pants. You’re so tight on him, he can barely contain himself. He finally closes his eyes, sighing out as he bottoms out inside of you, hearing you cry out. He leans into you, holding you steady as he slides out, rocking his hips into you. “It’s alright. I know it hurts.” He takes in a sharp breath, hating that you hurt so bad, but he felt so fucking good. He keeps a slow, steady pace. Letting you adjust to him. He notices a little bit of blood, but it doesn’t bother him any.

“Simon..” you’re breathless when you say it. “Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it, please.” You hiss, pushing your hips into him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight as he rocks his hips into yours faster, a little harder than before. Pushing your legs up as he slides deeper into you, hearing a gasp leave your lips. “Oh my god-“ you breathe.

He keeps up this pace for a few minutes, letting you get used to him. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

“How does it feel huh?” He pants, voice unsteady and desperate.

“‘M fucking your pussy.” He hisses, feeling you tighten around him. “Took your virginity.” He breathes. “How’s it feel?” He smiles. “It- it feels so good.” You whine. ”I feel so full Simon.” You hiccup with watery eyes. “Yeah? That’s how you’re supposed to feel. Supposed to feel overwhelmed and good.” He chuckles. He rests his hands on the undersides of your thighs, gripping you and keeping your legs open for him. Smiling when he sees you gripping the countertop like your life depends on it. He lifts his shirt up more, showing off more of his toned stomach.

“Fuck!” You cry, letting your head tilt back. He’s picking up his pace, getting you so close. You can feel swirling in your stomach, feeling something building.

A pant leaves your lips and you move up, trying to adjust yourself. “Simon. Feels weird.” You gasp. He lowers his hand to rub at your sensitive clit.

Just a little bit of that and you’re crying out for him. Clenching hard around him, your pussy milking him for every bit of his spunk.

He’s panting hard, moans unsteady as he approaches his orgasm. He’s going to cum hard.

He slides out of you last second, pumping his cock until he finishes on your stomach, groaning out, his body jerking as he finishes. “Oh fuck..” he whines.

After a moment of coming down from your highs, it finally hits you. You’d really just given this man, who’s way older than you, way more experienced than you, who you aren’t even in a relationship with. Your virginity. You’re staring at him with wide eyes as he cleans your skin of his filth, making sure you’re completely clean, even wiping down between your legs. He wants you to be comfortable. He sighs when he sees your nervous appearance. “It’s alright. I know.” He breathes. “Cmon, let’s go warm up by the fire.” He breathes. Lifting you up and bringing you with him to the couch. He sets you down, throwing a blanket over you.

You’re silent for a while. Not nervous or upset, more content than anything.

Simon is so caring of you, and he barely knows you. Which tells you everything you need to know about him. That he’s going to be the best thing for you. That he’ll take care of you. He finally sits down next to you after starting the fire. Throwing an arm around you so that you could lean into his chest. “I’m sorry if I took advantage of you.” He breathes. Hearing you laugh. “You didn’t. I’m a grown woman, I know what I want.” You smile. “Well.. good.” He smiles. “I just hope you don’t want it to be a one time thing.” You mumble.

“I was wondering the exact same thing.” He breathes.

“I know you just got out of a relationship and all but.. you’re mine.”

You smile up at him. “Always.”

“Oh yes, one more thing.” He mumbles, standing up and disappearing up his stairs for a minute, returning back down holding a box.

“Here.” He smiles. You take it from him, confused. “Simon.. I told you not to get me these.” You look up at him. “Open them.”

You open the box up, noticing a brand new pair of shoes. You can’t even imagine how much they probably costed. “Simon this is way too much.” You laugh. “You need new ones, I can help out. Let’s see how they fit.” He kneels down again.

“You’re doing too much for me already.”

He scoffs. “What I’m doing is the bare minimum. You’re just used to below average darling.” He laughs, tying the laces. You can’t help but smile at this.

“Thank you Simon.” You breathe.

“Always.”

[sokosmic]

Astro Observations #8

📧 Scorpio placements love to probe people for information. This is actually something that comes very natural to them and is often an unconscious behavior. Often the Scorpio doesn't even have to do anything. People tend to reveal themselves willingly and unwillingly. This is the nature of Pluto. It naturally uncovers whatever is hidden. Planets in the 8th House can behave this way as well.

📧 The sign in your 3rd House can give clues about the type of work you may be involved in. Because a theme of the 3rd House includes short distance trips, such as your day-to-day commute, the sign ruling this house often goes hand-in-hand with your work. For instance, I have Leo in the 3H. Leo rules government (source: the rulership book by rex e. bills). I have worked in government for almost 20 yrs.

📧 Mutable Signs/Placements move on their own time. Even if they are punctual, their desire to do things when they want takes priority. It's the nature of scattered energy.

📧 Saturn in the 4th House can indicate karma with the mother or native's family. This placement often requires a lot of obligation to the mother/family . The native feels bound by the obligations and often wishes to escape, but may also feel a sense of duty and embrace their role as the glue in the family. Capricorn ruling the 4th House may also manifest this way.

📧 A 1st House Lilith may attract unsolicited sexual energy. These people have a very natural sex appeal that they may or may not be aware of. And it may not be because of what you would identify as things that are overtly sexy

📧 I've noticed a theme among women with Capricorn in 5th House or Ruler of the 10th in the 4th House is they are often stay at home mothers.

📧 People with Pluto square Mercury have a real tendency to try and tear you down with their words. This isn't always the case, but if threatened or feel they need to gain the upper hand in a conversation, they are very likely to lash out with viscous words. Mars square Mercury can behave similarly, but they are usually the folks that tend to cut others off in conversation.

📧 Cancer placements would much rather purchase you an item than to share that item of their own. It's not that they are necessarily stingy, they just like the security of knowing something belongs to them and exactly when they may need to replace it.

📧 Mars in Libra people can be big procrastinators because they have a tendency towards indecisiveness. These are people who sometimes ride the fence because Libra energy can see all sides.

📧 If you've ever had a terrible experience with a supervisor that goes overboard with micro-managing, it is very likely they are Pluto in Virgo generation. These folks thrive off of getting down to the details, and having some sort of control over outcomes, so nothing goes unnoticed...including EVERYTHING you do lol.

📧 People with Cancer in the 6th House or Aquarius Risings may be annoyingly anal, but in a kinda good way, about taking care of their coworkers or things in the workplace. They may tend to stress over things being out of place or generally keeping up with how things should be "taken care of" in the work environment. This stress can lead to gut and stomach issues, such as ulcers or indigestion. Their daily routines often involves them taking care of things to ensure security for themselves and others.

📧 My studies have shown that the North Node sign and placement, often correlates to the native's Life Path number!

📧 Pisces Mercury / Pisces 3rd House folks are some of the most difficult people [for me] to understand at times! Their minds and mode of communication can be very abstract, which isn't hard to follow (especially if you are Mutable/Mercurial like me), but at times it's like you think they are saying one thing, but their theory isn't translating into a relatable, concrete concept. And there's nothing wrong with that. Pisces Mercury people are HIGHLY creative and artistic. These are your fashionistas, makeup artists, musicians, and poets. They also make great actors.

📧 Moon in Gemini folks can be some of the best storytellers! They use lots of funny words and phrases to express their emotions through their stories. They often get a bad rap for switching up often, but to me, they have an impressive way of intertwining emotions and intellect. If I had to describe them in 2 words, it would be plot twist lol.

📧 Neptune in the 5th House can cause pregnancies to be elusive or deceptive in some form, such as false signs of pregnancy or having difficulty carrying pregnancies to term.

These are my observations and opinions. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

-So.Kosmic 👽💜💫