#property management best practices

[lawofficeofryansshipp]

Top 5 Things Every Property Manager In Florida Needs To Know For Smoother Tenant Relationships

Florida Property Manager Managing rental properties in Florida can be challenging, especially with all the rules and regulations that come with it. From understanding Florida’s landlord-tenant laws to dealing with maintenance and tenant requests, property managers are constantly balancing tenant needs with the interests of the property owner. If you’re looking for ways to minimize tenant issues…

[goldfades]

TROUBLE ─── RAFE CAMERON

request for blurb night! : "ev, hear me out—reader is sarah’s best friend who used to babysit wheezie. she's always thought rafe was just some spoiled rich kid until one night he helps her out of a dangerous situation, and she see a different side of him"

The sound of cicadas swells in the sticky summer air as you maneuver your car into the Camerons’ circular driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The house stands before you, grand and overbearing, like something pulled straight from a Southern Gothic novel. Even after all these years, it still has a way of making you feel out of place, like you’re trespassing on a life far removed from your own.

You killed the engine and take a deep breath, your hands lingering on the steering wheel. Coming here used to feel second nature—a daily part of your routine back when you were just Sarah’s friend who needed extra cash and Wheezie was a chatty eight-year-old who never seemed to run out of energy.

Now, it feels complicated. It’s not like you’re unwelcome here—Rose is always polite in her distant, Stepford kind of way, and Wheezie practically lights up whenever she sees you. Sarah treats you like family, but there’s always been one Cameron who makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

Rafe.

Spoiled, sharp-tongued, entitled Rafe, whose condescending smirk had been a permanent fixture of your teenage years. The golden boy with a black hole of a temper, a trust fund, and an ego that stretched for miles. You’d never understood him, and frankly, you’d never wanted to. He was a hurricane you learned to avoid at all costs, never lingering too long in his orbit.

But life has a funny way of pulling you into places you swore you’d never go.

You grab your bag from the passenger seat and step out into the muggy heat, your sandals crunching against the gravel. Somewhere inside the house, you hear the faint echo of laughter—Wheezie, probably, shouting at Sarah over a card game or some other nonsense. The sound makes you smile despite yourself.

You weren’t always someone the Camerons—or anyone from Figure Eight, for that matter—gave the time of day. Growing up, you were just another Pogue, another kid from the Cut with hand-me-down clothes and a chip on your shoulder. The people from Sarah’s world weren’t interested in you back then. Why would they be? You had nothing they wanted—no yacht, no country club membership, no sprawling waterfront property. You didn’t mind much. You had your own circle, your own rhythm, and you learned to brush off the condescending stares whenever you ventured into their territory.

But everything changed when your dad’s business took off. What started as a small, bare-bones construction company turned into one of the most in-demand firms in the Outer Banks almost overnight. Suddenly, the same people who used to look through you like you were invisible started remembering your name. Invitations to parties you’d never have been considered for started showing up in your mailbox. They weren’t just tolerating you—they wanted you there.

Sarah was one of the first to genuinely befriend you during that whirlwind of change. She wasn’t like the others, who only smiled at you because their parents said it was polite or because they wanted a favor from your dad. She liked you for you—your sarcasm, your groundedness, your tendency to keep it real in a place where everyone else seemed to be faking something. And through Sarah, you met Wheezie.

Wheezie was eight at the time, still caught between childhood and whatever it is that happens when you grow up as a Cameron. She adored you from the start, trailing behind you whenever you came over like a little shadow. You didn’t mind. She was funny, curious, and refreshingly unfiltered—a lot more like the kids from the Cut than anyone wanted to admit.

When Rose offhandedly mentioned they needed someone to look after Wheezie while she was busy managing the house (or hosting one of her endless charity luncheons), Sarah volunteered you without hesitation. “She’s perfect,” Sarah had said with that trademark confidence of hers, as though your schedule had already been cleared.

To your surprise, it worked out. Wheezie loved you, probably because you didn’t treat her like a chore or talk down to her like so many others did. You indulged her weird little interests, let her ramble on about books and whatever new drama she overheard in the house. You made her laugh.

And if the Camerons noticed you weren’t exactly one of their own, they didn’t seem to mind much anymore. After all, in their world, proximity to success was enough to erase just about anything.

Even after a couple years had passed, it’s a little funny how much has stayed the same. Every time you pull into the Camerons’ driveway, you still get the same sinking feeling, like you’re stepping onto foreign soil without a passport. Except now, it’s become a routine. Cameron game nights.

It started as an extension of the babysitting gig—a casual invite from Sarah, insisting you stay for dinner one night after watching Wheezie. Dinner turned into a board game that Sarah claimed was “super quick,” which turned into three hours of family chaos. It was ridiculous, overly competitive, and a little awkward with Rose monitoring everything like a referee, but Wheezie loved having you there, and Sarah was relentless in making sure you felt included.

At some point, it just became normal. Even after Wheezie grew out of needing a babysitter, the tradition stuck. Every week or two, Sarah would text you about game night, and somehow, you always said yes.

“You’re like an honorary Cameron,” Sarah had joked once, and you’d laughed because the idea of that felt ridiculous. But there were moments, like now, when you almost believed her.

Wheezie’s voice echoes from the living room the second you step through the door. “You’re late!”

“I’m literally on time,” you call back, closing the door behind you. The smell of freshly baked something wafts through the air, probably cookies Wheezie convinced Rose to make under the guise of a family bonding activity.

“Technically, Rafe’s late,” Sarah says, popping her head around the corner, already grinning. “You’re just cutting it close. Come on, Wheezie’s already plotting your downfall.”

You laugh and follow her into the living room, where the familiar chaos is already brewing. Wheezie’s sprawled across the couch, a pile of board game pieces spread out in front of her, while Ward sits in his chair, sipping a scotch like it’s all beneath him but still keeping a hawk’s eye on the rules. Rose flits between the kitchen and the table, not-so-casually reminding everyone to keep the snacks on coasters.

And then there’s Rafe.

He’s leaning back in one of the armchairs, his legs stretched out like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. A half-smirk tugs at his lips as he spins a stray game token between his fingers. He barely glances at you when you walk in, but you catch the faintest flicker of recognition.

It’s been years, but Rafe is still Rafe: cocky, restless, and way too pretty for his own good. He’s toned down some of the more obvious brattiness since the early days, but the edge is still there, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful.

And, as always, you do your best to steer clear.

The quiet hum of the boutique fades behind you as you pull the glass door shut, twisting the key to lock it. The click echoes in the empty street, a sharp sound against the stillness of downtown this late at night. The once-bustling sidewalks are deserted now, the streetlights casting uneven pools of orange on the pavement. Most of the shops had closed hours ago, their dark windows reflecting the faint shimmer of the moon.

You adjust the strap of your bag over your shoulder and glance at your phone. 11:43 p.m. Later than you’d intended. It wasn’t your shift to close, but your coworker had begged you to cover for her last minute, and you couldn’t say no. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ve done this before. Downtown isn’t that bad, and your car is parked just a block away. Still, there’s something unnerving about the silence, the way the shadows stretch a little too far when you’re alone.

Reaching your car—a trusty but aging sedan that you inherited from your dad—you fumble with the keys before sliding into the driver’s seat. The interior smells faintly of the vanilla air freshener you keep on the rearview mirror, a comforting contrast to the chilly night air outside. You toss your bag onto the passenger seat, then grip the steering wheel as you turn the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

You pause, frowning. That’s… odd. Your car’s old, sure, but it’s never been completely unresponsive. You twist the key again, harder this time, willing it to come to life.

Still nothing.

A low groan escapes your throat as you lean back against the seat. This can’t be happening. Not tonight. Not here.

You pull out your phone, half-tempted to call Sarah or even your dad, but you hesitate. Sarah’s probably asleep by now, and your dad’s a good thirty minutes away—not to mention, he’d definitely give you a lecture about not keeping up with the car’s maintenance. Sighing, you pop the hood and step out into the cool night air, shivering slightly as a gust of wind cuts through your jacket.

The street around you is unnervingly quiet. A stray cat darts across the road, its shadow flickering under the streetlights. You glance around, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It’s just your imagination, you tell yourself. No one’s here.

With a deep breath, you lift the hood and stare down at the engine like it might magically fix itself. You know a grand total of nothing about cars, but you wiggle a few cables anyway, hoping for a miracle. When you try the ignition again, the result is the same—silence, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp overhead.

Panic starts to creep in now, slow and steady. Your phone’s battery is hovering at 10%, and downtown—normally picturesque and charming by day—feels like a completely different place at night. The empty windows of the closed shops look less quaint and more sinister, their dark interiors like gaping mouths.

You lean back against the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as you weigh your options. Call someone? Walk to the gas station a few blocks down? Stay here and wait it out? None of them sound appealing, especially with the growing sensation that you’re being watched. You tell yourself it’s just nerves, but your skin prickles anyway, and you can’t help but glance over your shoulder every few seconds.

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. “This is how horror movies start.”

You huff out a shaky breath and decide to at least look under the hood. Not that you know what you’re doing, but it’s better than standing here like a sitting duck. Popping the latch, you step out into the cool night air again, every sound amplified in the unsettling quiet. Your shoes scrape against the pavement as you walk to the front of the car, lifting the hood and leaning over the engine.

The faint metallic scent of oil hits your nose as you peer into the mess of cables and parts. It all looks like a foreign language to you, but you fiddle with a few wires anyway, hoping for some kind of miracle.

That’s when you hear it—footsteps.

At first, you think maybe it’s nothing, just your imagination running wild, but then you hear them again, deliberate and getting closer. Your stomach clenches, and you straighten up, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.

Two figures are walking toward you from the opposite side of the street, their strides slow and unhurried. The dim streetlights reveal faces you vaguely recognize—Kooks, no doubt, probably from the same parties Sarah used to drag you to back in high school. Their names escape you, but the looks on their faces don’t—grins too wide, eyes too sharp, the kind of predatory energy that sets every nerve in your body on edge.

“Car trouble?” the taller one calls out, his voice carrying an edge of amusement as they stop a few feet away.

You force a tight smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, I’ve got it handled. Thanks.”

The shorter one, stockier and wearing a backward baseball cap, steps closer, tilting his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Doesn’t look like it,” he says. His tone is casual, but the way his eyes flick over you makes your skin crawl.

“I’m fine,” you insist, taking a small step back toward the car. Your heart is pounding now, a sick thrum in your chest, but you keep your expression as neutral as possible.

“Hey, we’re just trying to help,” the taller one says, holding up his hands like he’s harmless, but there’s something almost mocking in his tone. “No need to be rude.”

The stocky one smirks, moving to your other side, effectively boxing you in against the car. “Yeah, we’re just being friendly.”

The air feels heavy, oppressive, and the space between you and them feels like it’s shrinking by the second. You can feel the tension in their postures, the way they’re both leaning in slightly, testing how far they can push.

Your throat tightens as you glance around, desperate for someone, anyone to come walking down the street. But there’s no one—just you and these two strangers who clearly don’t care that you’re uncomfortable.

“Look,” you say, trying to sound firm but calm, “I appreciate it, but I’m good. You don’t need to stick around.”

The taller one laughs, a low, unpleasant sound that makes your stomach churn. “Aw, come on. You’re out here all alone. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we just left you like this?”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the hood, your mind racing for a way out. You consider making a run for it, but they’re too close now, their presence suffocating.

Just as the stockier one steps even closer, his grin widening, a voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding.

“What’s going on here?”

The relief is instant and overwhelming, like a lifeline being thrown to you in a raging sea. You turn toward the sound, and there he is—Rafe Cameron, standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved casually into his pockets but his posture rigid, his eyes hard as they lock onto the two guys.

The taller one straightens up immediately, his smirk faltering. “Rafe,” he says, a weak attempt at sounding friendly.

Rafe doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting to you for the briefest moment before snapping back to them. “Didn’t realize we were having a party,” he says, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous. “You two invited?”

The stockier guy takes a step back, muttering something under his breath. “We were just leaving,” he says quickly, his bravado crumbling under Rafe’s glare.

“Yeah, you are,” Rafe says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The two exchange uneasy glances before slinking away, their footsteps echoing down the street until they disappear around the corner.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat and the faint hum of Rafe’s truck idling in the distance.

“You good?” Rafe asks, his voice softer now but still steady, grounding.

You nod, your throat dry as you manage to croak out, “Yeah… I am now.”

Rafe watches the shadows where the two guys disappeared, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. You half expect him to say something cutting, maybe some sarcastic remark about how you can’t take care of yourself, but when he finally looks at you, there’s no smugness. Only something... softer, almost hesitant.

“You’re lucky I saw you,” he says, his voice low. “That could’ve gone bad. Fast.”

You nod, your throat still tight from the tension of the moment. He’s right. You don’t even want to think about how that could’ve ended if he hadn’t shown up. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s brow furrows like he’s surprised you said it. He leans back slightly, glancing at the car hood still propped open. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

“Won’t start,” you reply, gesturing vaguely at the engine. “Not that I’d know what to look for.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to.” His tone lacks the usual edge, though—it’s not a dig, just a statement.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there in the quiet. The night air feels less suffocating now, the earlier tension replaced by a strange calm. Despite everything you know—or think you know—about Rafe Cameron, there’s something about his presence right now that makes you feel… safe. It’s unsettling, in its own way.

“You should be more careful,” Rafe says, breaking the silence. His gaze is steady, not mocking or judgmental, just serious. “Downtown this late? Alone? That’s asking for trouble.”

You bristle slightly, your instinct to defend yourself flaring up. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down.”

He raises an eyebrow, but instead of snapping back, he just nods. “Fair.”

The quiet stretches between you again, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. Rafe steps closer, peering under the hood with a practiced air, and you’re struck by how uncharacteristically gentle he seems. No biting remarks, no smug superiority—just calm focus.

He taps a cable lightly, muttering something under his breath, then steps back, closing the hood with a decisive thud. “Battery’s probably dead,” he says, glancing at you. “You need a jump.”

You nod, your nerves finally starting to settle. “I guess I’ll call someone.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, already walking toward his truck. “I’ve got cables.”

You blink, caught off guard by his matter-of-fact tone. He’s not offering—he’s telling you he’s going to help. And for some reason, you don’t argue.

A few minutes later, Rafe has his truck pulled up nose-to-nose with your car, the cables stretched taut between them. He works in silence, his movements efficient, and you watch from the sidelines, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“You should get in,” he says, nodding toward the driver’s seat.

You do as he says, sliding back into the familiar confines of your car. The moment feels oddly intimate—just the two of you on this empty street, the hum of his truck filling the air.

“Try it now,” he calls out, stepping back.

You turn the key, but instead of the engine sputtering to life, it lets out a defeated whine and falls silent again. You try one more time, your chest tightening with frustration and dread, but it’s no use. The car isn’t going anywhere tonight.

You let your forehead drop against the steering wheel with a groan. Of course. Just your luck.

Rafe’s voice cuts through the night air, low and steady. “It’s not gonna work. Battery’s dead for real.”

You sit up, pressing your lips together as he leans against the open driver’s side door, his arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between amusement and mild concern.

“Great,” you mutter. “So, what now? I call a tow truck and wait here till dawn?”

Rafe tilts his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before landing on your car again. “Or,” he says, “I could just drive you home.”

The offer catches you off guard, and you hesitate, your immediate instinct to say no. Riding home with Rafe Cameron? That’s about as far outside your comfort zone as you can imagine.

But then you glance down at your nearly dead phone, the empty street around you, and the sheer impossibility of getting a tow out here tonight. What other choice do you have?

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe shrugs, the motion easy, like it’s no big deal. “You got a better plan?”

You don’t.

“Fine,” you say finally, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and climbing out of the car. The night air feels colder now, pressing against your skin as you walk toward his truck.

Rafe opens the passenger door for you without a word, and you slide in, the faint scent of leather and cologne filling the cab. It’s clean but lived-in—practical, not flashy, which surprises you.

He climbs in on the driver’s side, pulling the door shut and starting the engine with a smooth turn of the key. The sound is steady, reliable, and for a moment, you envy how effortlessly everything in his life seems to work.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, the only sound the low hum of the truck and the occasional creak of the suspension as it rolls over uneven pavement. You glance out the window, watching the darkened storefronts blur past, trying to ignore the strange tension sitting between you.

“You gonna sit there and sulk the whole way?” Rafe asks, his voice breaking the silence.

“I’m not sulking,” you shoot back, turning to glare at him.

He smirks, his eyes still on the road. “Sure you’re not.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just… processing the fact that my car officially hates me. And that I had to be rescued by you of all people.”

His smirk softens into something closer to a smile, and for once, it doesn’t look mocking. “Yeah, well, it’s your lucky night, I guess.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, and the quiet settles over the truck again. It’s not entirely uncomfortable this time—just strange, like you’re both trying to figure out how to navigate this unexpected moment.

After a while, Rafe glances over at you, his expression more serious now. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone like that,” he says quietly.

You shift in your seat, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down,” you mumble.

“Still,” he says, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Things could’ve gone bad. You know that, right?”

You do. The memory of those guys, their leering smiles and the way they cornered you, is still fresh in your mind. A shiver runs through you, and you glance at Rafe, his profile sharp in the dim light from the dashboard.

“Thanks,” you say, softer this time. “For stepping in.”

His jaw tenses for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

The rest of the drive passes in a blur of streetlights and quiet conversation. When he finally pulls up outside your house, you feel an odd sense of disappointment, like the night is ending too soon.

Rafe cuts the engine and looks over at you, his expression unreadable again. “You good?”

You nod, your fingers curling around the strap of your bag. “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

He hesitates, his eyes searching yours for a moment, and you swear you see something uncharacteristically soft in his gaze. “Anytime,” he says, his voice low.

You climb out of the truck, turning back as you reach your front door. Rafe is still there, leaning slightly out of the window, watching you with an intensity that sends a strange flutter through your chest.

“Night, Rafe,” you call out, your voice steadier than you feel.

He nods once, his smirk returning, but there’s a warmth to it now that wasn’t there before. “Night.”

You watch as he drives off, the tail lights disappearing down the street, and you can’t shake the feeling that tonight, something shifted. Something you didn’t see coming.

The living room is alive with laughter and the sugary smell of freshly microwaved popcorn. Wheezie is sprawled across the couch, her legs tangled in a blanket as she debates the finer points of the movie you’ve just paused, while Sarah snorts beside her, throwing a handful of popcorn in her sister’s direction.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, sipping from your drink and soaking in the warmth of the moment. It feels good to let your guard down like this—to laugh and tease and forget for a little while.

“Okay, but how does she not realize he’s the bad guy?” Wheezie demands, gesturing dramatically at the screen.

“Because she’s blinded by love,” Sarah says, grinning. “Or maybe she’s just as dumb as you are.”

“Excuse me?” Wheezie gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I feel like if someone was being that obvious about being evil, I’d notice.”

“Would you, though?” Sarah teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey!” you protest, chucking a stray pillow at her.

The playful banter continues, the night stretching on in a haze of easy conversation and snack-fueled chaos. You’re halfway through arguing over which movie to watch next when the sound of the front door opening pulls your attention.

You glance toward the entryway just as Rafe steps inside, his hair slightly mussed, his keys jingling in his hand. He pauses when he sees you all, his expression flickering from mild surprise to something unreadable.

“What’s this?” he asks, his voice carrying that familiar mix of curiosity and amusement. “A girls’ night?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, throwing a popcorn kernel at him. “And you’re not invited.”

“Tragic,” Rafe deadpans, stepping fully into the room. His eyes flick to you for a split second, and your stomach does an unexpected flip.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just residual nerves from the other night. Nothing to do with the way his presence seems to fill the space or the way his gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks heat.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying.”

“Good,” Sarah says. “Bye.”

He ignores her, pushing off the frame and heading toward the kitchen instead.

“I’m getting more popcorn,” you announce quickly, needing a reason to escape the sudden heat prickling at your skin. You grab the empty bowl and dart toward the kitchen before anyone can respond.

The kitchen is cooler, quieter, and you exhale a sigh of relief as you cross to the counter. You’re halfway through scooping kernels into a bowl when you hear the low hum of Rafe’s voice behind you.

“Didn’t know you were here tonight.”

You jump slightly, glancing over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed and that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you say, turning back to the task at hand, “I’m kind of a regular around here.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his tone light but edged with something that makes your stomach flutter.

You keep your focus on the popcorn, refusing to let him get to you. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re interesting,” he shoots back smoothly.

You roll your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. “Interesting? That’s a stretch.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I don’t think so.”

His voice is closer now, and you glance up to find him standing beside you, his gaze fixed on your face. You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the bowl as you try to think of something—anything—to say.

“Relax,” he says, his lips quirking up into a grin. “You look like you’re about to run out of here.”

“I’m not,” you insist, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

He leans in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I was starting to think I might scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you say quickly, your voice a touch too defensive.

“Hmm.” His smirk deepens, and he leans back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. “If you say so.”

With that, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and steps away, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he heads toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, trouble,” he calls out, his tone teasing but soft enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You stand there for a moment, staring after him, your heart racing and your face burning.

By the time you return to the living room with the popcorn, Wheezie and Sarah are too busy laughing at some inside joke to notice how flustered you are. You settle back into your spot on the floor, your mind still replaying the way Rafe’s voice sounded when he called you trouble.

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[hopeastrz]

STELLIUMS IN SOLAR RETURN CHART tips and tricks on what to avoid and how to benefit from them!˙✧˖°🥮 ༘ ⋆｡˚‧.

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If you don’t have a 3 planet stellium, see where you have 2 planets, so for example if you have sun and mercury on the 3rd house and mars and saturn on the 7th read about both houses!.

NOTE: enjoy this post and don’t forget to reblog, thank you for your support, lots of love xoxo!! ₊˚⊹౨ৎ🍊.

STELLIUM IN THE FIRST HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, get a nice haircut, get to know your approach to life more, get to know your direction in life and what may be the next step for you, it’ll be a year of self discovery journey, and it’s the best year to work on your approach of life, you should focus more on your style, see what suits you and what doesn’t, work on your self concept and build your confidence and also it’s the greatest time to find your passion!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Becoming aggressive, moody or be hard on yourself, becoming critical/judgmental of others and yourself!, not taking care of yourself, shy away from spotlight don’t hesitate to!, becoming way too self centered and thinking that people reactions are because something you’ve done!.

STELLIUM IN THE SECOND HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Buy new makeup, perfumes, work on your self worth, start investing money I don’t care even if you have saturn on the 2nd house start a business and earn from it!, since it’s a saving year indicator, one where you look for more stability and comfort, take care of your finances and learn more about how money works!, learn to manage your money right and spend it wisely, become strict!, it’s really good time to start giving old things in order to welcome new ones, like old clothes or possessions, since you may have this urge to keep buying new things, and in order to keep balance learn to donate your stuff, good karma and do that especially if you have saturn!, start singing loudly too it’ll be healing!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Spend wisely so that you don’t cry at the end of the year, don’t waste the opportunity and reconsider you values, set firm boundaries and goals, also don’t waste time and truly buy stuff you only need!, never put your emotional health and security second place, care more about your feelings!.

STELLIUM IN THE THIRD HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Whenever you feel anxious journal, or go on a car ride even if you don’t have a car, call a cab or go on a bus and put your headphones on, but it’s an amazing time to work on how you introduce yourself, or in other words practice how to talk your mind, communicate with people, and how to share your opinions properly!. it’s a great year to learn about the law of assumption, get closer to your siblings or your neighbors, you can buy a new cell phone, get lots of phone calls and even do lots of social activity or finish high school!, if you suck at maths that year is pretty good to learn the basics again and educate yourself on it, also go on short trips find new interests and start a social media account.

WHAT TO AVOID:

DO. NOT. OVERSHARE. learn how to shut up when needed and i know you’ll have an urge to talk to no end but please shut up!, also don’t indulge yourself into gossip it’ll end up being so messy, try to stop overthinking and don’t believe any rumor you hear!, also take care of your siblings!.

STELLIUM IN THE FOURTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

great time to go back to your roots, aka work on your family trauma or stuck issues with your family and heal from them!, you may start a new family, become a parent, settle down, buy a new apartment or move from your home, so to have a fresh it’s okay to forgive them!, heal your inner child and read more about such topics, focus on your emotional needs and understand yourself more, if you’re a fem then lean into it more, get closer to your mother, decorate your room, also it’s a great time to buy properties and invest or learn cooking and baking yummy yummy!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

getting into fights with your parents because they’ll get on your nerves alot!, so for your mental health pay them no mind!, don’t keep your place messy.

STELLIUM IN THE FIFTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

EVERYTHING, i love love loveee this placement and not just for the romance nuh uh, as a woman who doesn’t even date I’ve had the most fun on year i had 5th house placements, go to concerts, festivals and arcades, party and enjoy your life really, you won’t feel like you wasted your money on these things trust me, go to an art course, go to movie theater!, just go out and don’t stay at home!, also enjoy your talents and get ready for the spotlight!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

hookups, unprotected sex since it might lead to sudden pregnancies, getting lost at new places, getting a bit over the head, be careful of becoming narcissistic or kinda full of yourself!, also choose your romance partner carefully don’t rush into love, because you’ll see the world in heart tainted sunglasses this year!.

STELLIUM IN THE SIXTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Think about getting a glow up, it’s the best time for self improvement, plan a routine and follow it, even if you found it hard to build one before it’ll feel easier this year to stick to it!, greatest time to start a series of new habits, work on your body and focus on your health, try building muscles, bulking, going to the gym or walking more, try to journal, read frequently and heal your skin, do some skin care, also get your body checked, get along with your coworkers and focus more on how to make the best out of your job!, routine will never fail you oh and maybe get a pet too!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Avoid over stressing/overtiring yourself, ignore your health or hygiene, avoid going into fights with your coworkers, beware of becoming a people pleaser or give more than you take to others, beware of stray animals, don’t go on a very strict diet especially if you have pluto on the 6th house!.

STELLIUM IN THE SEVENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

start a business with others, or start your own business, go for that lawsuit, look for that long term partner or take the step for up leveling your current relationship. Incase of getting married enjoy the process of this new era!, it’s the best time to test your partner and see if they’re worthy enough of you!, also enjoy the feeling of becoming extra attractive!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Beware of getting into useless conflicts, don’t be over concerned of others, beware of love affairs especially if you’re already dating someone, beware of getting scammed i’d say don’t take the step of business partnership if you have uranus or neptune influence on the 7th house.

STELLIUM IN THE EIGHTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Embrace new major transformations, get ready for change and allow it!, explore your sexuality more, invest, join the stock market (don’t if you have neptune or uranus), learn spiritual practices because you’ll get more spiritual, best times to learn astrology and tarot, keep secrets, learn more about psychology, do that plastic surgery you’ve had in mind if needed only, also heal your trauma.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Go against the flow and get scared of the rebirth you need to go through, hate the constant change and how intense your emotions could be.

STELLIUM IN THE NINTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Choose a different college major, adopt new beliefs and focus on your higher education, travel more, good time to visit your grandparents, try to stay with them more, learn a new language, learn about you religion and just literally learn anything!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Going to a country without any background of their culture is!, see what’s appropriate to do and what’s not, ignore your university studies or just basically getting distracted!.

STELLIUM IN THE TENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Time to build your legacy, go all out!, also work on your reputation, time to build the public persona you dreamt of, set long term goals and know what you want to be in the next 5 years, fulfill your responsibilities and get ready for recognition!, also fix your problems with your father, get closer to your bosses, network!, build a professional name and really get serious about building your career!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Doing things that’s harmful or shady for your reputation, avoid suspicious things this year because everyone will have you on the tip of their tongue. Not taking your responsibilities and your work seriously, disrespecting your bosses, procrastinating, not being professional or efficient.

STELLIUM IN THE ELEVENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Networking for your career, become more social, meet new people, change your toxic friends circle, cut who you don’t feel comfortable with!, go out more, learn about the law of assumption, manifest your desires, GET THAT BAG, start a new social media account or an online business and earn from it!, very high potential for success, watch new films, save to buy a new phone or laptop, know what you hope and wish for in the future to aim for it, make your debut in society and share your work and talents, go to parties, donate to some organizations and also join a club!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Letting toxic people stay in your life this is the best time to cut them, don’t know anything about politics or have any sense of social awareness, be shy and miss lots of opportunities, not knowing you boundaries when it comes to friends and relationships!.

STELLIUM IN THE TWELFTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Heal, this is a rest era for you, take some time for yourself and heal, repay your karmic debts, focus more on your dreams and try interpreting them, see the messages they have for you, tame your subconscious mind for your own benefit, become more spiritual and seriously, take this time to explore your emotions more and your inner self, find your peace and find solitude in yourself!, best time to end toxic habits and relationships, basically anything you want to stop, listen to subliminals, affirmation tapes, cherish your privacy and stay private, reflect on the past and break free from what’s holding you back, also sleep more and attempt a healthy sleeping schedule, oh and eat fish lmao.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Repeating old cycle, this is really an opportunity to change!, ignore your dreams, become isolated, become depressed because you’ll trauma will surface so HEAL, ignore your subconscious mind needs and thought patterns, drink or consume alcohol, beware of addictions.

[bi-writes]

still wakes the deep au | soap x f!reader

Installment 4/?: Something in the Water

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. masterlist

There’s something in the water.

The numbers that stare back at you might as well be flashing red and sounding sirens. Your hands shake—like glass with too many cracks, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something but can’t look forward. Not because the abyss is too dark to see, but because someone is deliberately covering your eyes as you teeter along some uneven cliff.

This is the second time you’ve done the analysis. The first time, you were careful, but when you saw the results, you panicked. Maybe you forgot to calibrate the machine. Maybe the glass wasn’t cleaned properly, and all of your samples were therefore contaminated. Maybe you were just negligent, had done this sort of thing too many times, that you must have forgot some crucial step that skewed your numbers so terribly, there was no way to conclude anything but that your analysis was too poor to record.

You did it again this time. You had the manual out, and you crossed off the steps as you did them. Your math is correct. You’ve done it more than once, used a calculator for the basic algebra, in the event that perhaps your brain could not remember how to multiply, but the numbers stay the same. You shakily bring over the report you wrote the night before and compare them. The report looks worse. Something is changing, at a rapid pace, and you feel sick.

The rig groans, and you stand up abruptly from your seat. The chair you were seated in falls onto its side behind you, and you step backwards, until you hit the wall behind you, and you cover your face with your hands.

There’s something in the water.

As a scientist, your thoughts immediately try to come up with practical assumptions. From how you’ve observed the men on this rig, they try their best, but management is poor—perhaps they’ve let something slip through the cracks. Quality control declining, safety checks abandoned, perhaps in an effort to increase production, they’ve forgone proper training, and now there are men unknowingly wreaking havoc.

The thing is—you know what you saw. Oil and water do not mix; they are immiscible liquids that, because of their innate properties, separate and pull away from one another. What you saw was not a separation, and it wasn’t something else bridging the layer between oil and water—what you saw was something you have never seen before.

It glitters, shines. You saw it move, a very mind of its own, something microscopic almost and tentacle-like attaching to the edges of the glass sample. When you shook it, it hadn’t moved, just glittered, just stared.

No eyes, and yet you could feel it looking back at you. Something alive. Something not real and yet, you see it, just there—

As a scientist, you tell yourself that the ocean is vast. The ocean is unpredictable. What you see can be explained, but you just need a few books to look through, and this rig is not a fine collector of those kinds of things.

As someone who wants to get the fuck out of here, you know that something is wrong.

There’s something in the water.

You cannot sleep. You usually don’t anyways, but your work keeps you up now, keeps your eyes glued to the water-stained ceiling. You feel suffocated here. The four walls that surround you are tiny, and the ocean is so loud outside of your window. She never shuts up—she screams, pounding on the thick glass, pulling on the rivets and digging her nails into the metal so that you know of her disdain, her displeasure.

She doesn’t want you here. You are somewhere that you don’t belong. Manmade claws dug into her very skin, and she throws it back at you as a warning because she wants you to leave. You’re not supposed to be here. You didn’t ask her for permission, and now she’s telling you to go, but you know already that no one will listen.

When you send these reports, they won’t believe you. They’ll suspect contaminated samples, and they’ll ask you do it again, and when you come back to them with the same numbers, they’ll say you don’t know how to do your job.

You’ll warn them. You’ll scream. Maybe you’ll cry—maybe you’ll beg. When they realize you’re telling the truth, you know already that it’ll be too late.

It’s in the water. It’s in the water. It’s in the water.

You shake your flashlight, hitting the side of it until the yellow bulb flickers and turns on. You grab the knob of your door, unlocking it and pushing it open, and your feet carry you down the hall. There’s a satellite phone that you can use to call someone. You want to explain yourself, you want to tell them that you tried again, and that you didn’t fail. You know what you’re doing. There is science, there is knowing, but there is also instinct.

You pick up the satellite phone from its box in accommodations. You shake it, watching it come to life, and you take a seat on the floor as you spread your reports out in front of you and dial. It takes a few tries before anyone picks up, and even then, it’s difficult to hear them. The connection is noisy, but it’s enough.

“You cannot be serious.”

That’s what they tell you. Wrong, you’re wrong, it can’t be right, there was no need to waste an expensive phone call on an analysis that was simple and easily performed. Your lip trembles, and you try to find your voice, but it escapes you.

“No,” you whisper. “I swear. I swear. Something’s not right—we need to—”

One more time. You have to do it one more time. You toss the phone, clutching your head. Your hands tangle into your hair, and you pull, just to feel something. You need to make sure this is real. Your toes curl in your shoes, and when you feel the floor of the rig resist you, you know you’re not dreaming. You’re in the middle of the fucking ocean, and there’s—

The satellite phone crackles. The speaker enables, loud, and you flinch when the screen flashes, on and off, crackling with static. You hear distant laughter through the speaker, and you crawl to the phone to pick it up.

“Hello? Hello, who’s there?”

There’s a low chuckle on the other end. You recognize it. You can practically see his smile, pearly whites all too happy, innocent, masking the nasty thing it hides under the surface. You’d liken him to the ocean, but she doesn’t keep secrets the way he does. He hides everything he really is under a pretty face. He lures you in, takes a bite, and he swallows before anyone sees the chunk he takes out of you.

“S-Soap?”

The phone crackles, and when the screen fades out, and the speaker still sounds, your body goes cold.

“You didnae hear? ‘s in the water, bonnie.”

You’ve never been to his room. You know where it is; every time you walk past him here, he reminds you. He points at the door, his name scribbled on the plaque to the side, and he tells you this is where he is, if ye ever need me ta lend ye some soap. You usually tiptoe past it; even though there’s carpet throughout the accommodations section, you fear he has memorized how your footsteps sound, and you never have wanted to give him a reason to seek you out again, but now you’re standing here, in the middle of the night, frantically knocking.

The door swings open. The look on his face, though only there for a second, is nothing but pure disgust, anger, a dullness and a depth to those baby blues that you’ve never seen when you’ve ever looked into them. At the sight of you, his entire body relaxes.

He’s shirtless. Thick, pronounced pecs that your eyes fail to look away from that follow a solid middle. He’s hairy, a nice trail that lines his chest and falls under the band of his boxers, and they hug his thighs much too well, so much so that you can see him chub up just at the sight of you at his door. He smiles.

In just a moment, the depth of his ire disappears, like he flipped a switch as soon as he noticed it was you.

“Och…’n ta what do ah owe the pleasure? Had a nightmare, luvvie? ‘s nice ‘n warm ‘n my bed.”

“Why were you on the sat phone?” You snap. It’s the angriest you’ve ever been, you think. Your eyes are watery. Your anger is a defense for all the fear that lays just under the surface. “I heard your voice. What the hell did you mean? What did—”

“As much as ah’wud like ta spend all night listenin’ ta yer pretty voice, bonnie, ah’ve no idea what yer on about.” Soap leans against the doorway, raising a brow, and while he’s trying to be coy, you’re not having it.

“Why did you say that?” Your voice shakes this time. “W-What did you mean?”

“Bonnie—”

“It’s n-not right,” you spill. You hold up the papers in your hand, and Soap stands up straight when he notices the way your hands are trembling. He steps closer, into your space, and you stay there, rooted to your spot. You look up at him, pointing to the bottom of your reports where your math and algebra sit, and you shake your head. “Something’s wrong. I know it. I know this doesn’t mean a-anything to you, but no one is listening to me, there’s something wrong, there’s something—”

His kiss is wet. He swallows your words, tongue in your mouth, and you whine instinctively when he pinches your chin between two big fingers and tilts your head to the side so he can devour. His mouth is filled with saliva, as if he was drooling for you, and you open your mouth to taste him, leaning just that much closer so that the only air you breathe is each other’s. You open your mouth again to protest, getting just a whiff of clarity, but then those hands are on your ass, and he’s squeezing the fat of it in two hands and dragging you closer to him. Your palms move to brace yourself against his chest, and you note how warm he is. He radiates heat, and the muscle does not give, and if you were somewhere else, you would lower yourself and get your lips on the skin, suckle and bite and mark him. He’d look so pretty. He is so pretty. He’s fogging your head—his kiss distracts you. You wish you had more bite, but you do not. When he spits into your mouth, you swallow it, and that simple fact makes your eyes water with shame at how easy you let him have you.

“Shhh—shh…” Rough palms spread along your cheeks, thumbs fitting just under the curve and teasing the seam of your cunt, and you let out a strangled cry when you shake your head again and try to pull away.

“Please listen to me—!”

“Ah’m listening—”

“No, you’re not! There’s something in the water!”

When you are back in your bed, Soap is the one to tuck you in. He brushes the hair off of your face, cooing as he kneels beside the bed, and you’re staring at him through wet eyes. You are so sleep-deprived—you haven’t slept a full night in days, and you must look it. You feel it, because you’re letting Soap this close to you. You’re letting him drag his lips across your skin, letting his hands under your blanket, ignoring the way he thumbs just over your breast, your nipples pebbling at the slight tease of attention.

“Ye need some rest,” Soap murmurs. You sniffle, clutching the edge of the blanket, and when his hand draws back, you reach for it, holding it tight. He scrunches his nose just a little when your nails dig into his skin.

“You believe me, right?” You whisper. “P-Please say you believe me.”

“Ah believe ye,” Soap nods, “sure. Ah ken.”

You sit up a little, getting closer, and you squeeze his hand.

“Then why…you’re not scared.”

“Ah’m no’afraid of what isnae there,” he soothes you. Soap sits up on his knees, and you try not to think too hard about how large he looks leaning over you. He presses on your shoulders, until you lay back again, and he smiles down at you. It’s softer this time. He’s trying to relax you, and it’s working, just a little. “Ah’ve been out there, bonnie. Been workin’. She moans and groans real scary like, but dinnae worry—” He touches your cheek again, and you give him those eyes. Fuck, those eyes. “Ah’ll find ye if somethin’ ‘s off, bonnie. Yer safe.”

Safe.

When you’re alone again, another wet kiss drying against your lips, you feel anything but safe.

You would be more upset if you felt like he didn’t mean what he said—but he does, you know he does. Soap is like you in a way—practical. If while he was working, he noticed something off, he would know. He’s worked rigs like this before, he’d told you so, and you’ve worked with him long enough to know that Soap isn’t stupid. In fact, he’s the most competent person on the rig, maybe, and you’ve stared at his arms long enough to know that there is nothing half-assed or improper about the way he works. He is methodical, careful, and he knows the job well. Sometimes you see him press a big hand against one of the walls of the rig and close his eyes to listen. Like the ocean speaks to you, the rivets speak to Soap.

So why are they telling us different stories?

Opposites, just like yourself. You try to put distance between you and him, and you try to hate him. You tell yourself he’s been borderline harassing you, but then why is it that your feet gravitate towards him? Even when you don’t mean to, you’re in his proximity. You never go looking for him, and yet he is there. Your thoughts are filled with it, filled with him, and even when he goes, you can’t stop thinking about him.

Those eyes. Those hands. So much of him, that you want him between your teeth, and you know if you bit down, you’d meet delicious resistance, and in the face of panic and fear, his voice—like some lilt you must know, your heartbeat slows. What he says must be truth, even if it isn’t one you want to hear. Even if it’s something disgusting and terrible and obnoxious, Soap would never lie to you.

You’re so tender. When your fingers slip under the band of your sleep shorts, you find yourself so willing. You part your thighs a little, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep quiet when you feel how soaked you are. Your panties are ruined—so slick, sticking to your skin, and you peek it back to run two fingers between your folds and shake from how nice it feels.

When you close your eyes, you think of him.

You think about the oil under his fingernails. You think about what it might taste like if he stuck those big fingers into your mouth and pet your tongue with them—how bitter and foul the oil would be. You wonder if the salt of his skin would cancel it out or if he’d pity you and feed you his cock instead. When your fingertips slide and circle your clit, your back arches, and you think about what he would’ve done if instead of berate him, you simply had pushed him into his room a few hours ago and tested how quiet his mattress springs could be.

You’re ashamed, you think. Ashamed that someone like him could have you so out of sorts. So many different jobs, so many different men, but this one has you breathless. When you wet your fingers with your own cum, you remember the only thing in your head is him telling you that everything is okay. His unforgiving chest muscle under the palm of your hand, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, to kiss just where your jaw meets your throat.

Nothing amiss, bonnie. Ah’ave ye.

It isn’t the morning sun that wakes you.

Bleary, you sit up onto your elbows. You hear voices outside your room. Lots of footsteps. You get yourself out of bed, haphazardly slipping into clothes before opening the door and stepping out.

It’s eerily quiet in the hallway. You hear a heavy door shut in the distance, but then there is nothing. You flinch when something cold and wet hits your forehead, and when you look up, the ceiling is leaking. Water damage bleeds throughout the material there, more pronounced than before. You wipe the glob off your forehead, looking down at your hand, and your stomach drops when you see something sparkle. You cringe, shaking your hand, wiping it against your pants to dry them before moving again.

The air is too humid. The salt of the ocean tastes rancid. There is some meter somewhere, you think, that has hit its limit. What it measures, you’re not sure, but something is standing too close to an edge. It will either fall over or right itself, but there is no predictability and no balance in the middle of the ocean.

She will turn it which way she wants it to go, and today, you fear it won’t be in your favor.

You see it before you feel it. You make your way to a window on the far side of accommodations, one that looks out towards the rest of the rig. You can see sparks where men are working, large towers with cranes that are swinging. The fog is dense—you can’t see anything past the rig, just clouds that make the world around the rig seem small and void. You narrow your eyes when you see something shaking. You’re convinced that you’re off balance, that maybe it’s your knees shaking and not the metal cage you currently reside on.

It takes your breath away, the first blast. Something in the distance erupts just after a bright flashing light, and you feel it in your toes. You cry out when the force of it reaches where you are and throws you backwards, enough that you hit the wall behind you and crumple into a heap onto the floor. Something incredible must have broken apart—you can feel how heavy of a break just gave out underneath you, somewhere deep within the rig, suspiciously close to where the drill rests at the deep center of it all.

Your vision spots. Metal creaks and bends, giving out under some other kind of force, and you cower and cover your head with your arms when you hear a plethora of terrible, carrying screeches. Something surrounds you now. There’s air coming out of the ducts that smells off, and at the distance of it all, you hear the ocean.

She’s not sorry. She told you to leave. No one believed her, no one believed you.

When you finally uncover your face, you look around. Everything looks somewhat normal, but off kilter. You stand on shaky legs, continuing towards the kitchen, but just as you make it to the staircase, something blocks your way.

The walls have been broken through. Metal is shredded and bent backwards, giving way to something you can only describe as bizarre. Inhuman. Not of any kind.

Thick strands of pulsating flesh take up the stairway. In brilliant, large swirls, they come from somewhere outside, twisting and moving until they break through another wall and continue where you can’t follow. The sound of it—something sticky, wet, gooey with a pearl-like substance that drips. It shines, and you blink when you realize that you recognize the way it glitters, the way it catches the light.

There is something in the water.

It draws you closer. You can hear something from inside of it. The soft flesh of it, pink and fat with something you can’t decipher, beats to a rhythm that squeezes the organs inside of you. Your feet move without you telling them to, but just as you are about to get near it, a stringy arm of flesh breaks off from the pillar of it towards you.

You scream as you fly back from it, falling onto your back as you crawl away. The sticky end of it misses you just by an inch, landing and suctioning to the floor just beside your foot. You kick your feet, crawling away from it on your elbows, and you do the only thing you’ve thought about doing since you arrived—you run.

You see spots. Something glittery protrudes what you see, but you wipe the water out of your eyes and keep running. You’re losing it—this isn’t real. You’re in a dream, and all you have to do is wake up. You’re having a nightmare. When you wake up, you’ll run your analysis again with new samples, and the numbers will read normal, and you’ll pack your bags in preparation to leave, and you’ll do just that in such little time.

You won’t have to worry about the open waters, or the ocean that won’t forgive you. You’ll realize she can’t speak to you, and that it is all in your head. There is no angry woman under the surface. There is nothing throwing off the samples. There is no flesh breaking through the rig and trying to devour you. There is only you and the terrible things the mind can do.

You scream again when something grabs you. Flesh, warm, wrapping around you and holding you solid, breaking your run and forcing you against them. You scream and thrash, trying to break free, but then flesh speaks.

“‘s me! Christ, ‘s me, bonnie!”

A hand clamps over your mouth, and you stop. You blink through wet eyes, and when you can finally focus, you see him. When he knows you won’t scream, he lowers his hand.

“S-Soap?”

“Aye. Now quiet.”

“Soap…Soap, I saw—”

He puts a finger up to his lips, and your lips close. Your eyes widen when the rig groans, something breaking under your feet, glass and metal and the crack of destruction echoing against the fog.

In the distance, you hear a cry. It isn’t a cry you recognize. It gurgles, and it echoes, and something about it is just off enough that you know it can’t be explained. When you meet Soap’s eyes, you see the same conclusion in them. Finally, you see in them what you saw in yourself, what you could read on paper and see in the water and feel just under your ribs, making your heart beat against its cage like a frantic drum.

There was something in the water—and now it has come out.

[aeth-eris]

★ how to maximize profits via 2nd house ★

aries in the 2nd house can maximize profits by capitalizing on their entrepreneurial drive and competitive spirit. aries benefits from fast-paced, high-energy ventures where they can lead and make quick decisions. they might excel by launching a fitness training program, offering personal coaching services, or starting a motivational brand that sells products like athletic apparel, energy drinks, or performance gear. aries could also find success with subscription boxes focused on high-adrenaline hobbies like hiking, martial arts, or adventure sports. by embracing ventures that allow them to innovate quickly and take the lead, aries can build profitable businesses that leverage their passion and high energy.

taurus in the 2nd house is well-suited for steady financial growth through high-quality, long-term investments and products. they thrive in businesses that emphasize luxury, beauty, and quality, such as a high-end skincare line, organic foods business, or eco-friendly clothing brand. taurus could also consider starting a boutique furniture store that sells artisan-crafted or vintage items, as they appreciate products with enduring value. with their talent for creating a comforting atmosphere, taurus might excel with a bed and breakfast, a spa, or a wellness center that offers relaxation services. taurus maximizes profits by focusing on products that prioritize quality and offer a luxurious experience, appealing to clients who value longevity and craftsmanship.

gemini in the 2nd house can boost profits by tapping into their adaptability and communication skills, especially in diverse, mentally stimulating fields. they could thrive by starting a digital marketing agency, offering copywriting or editing services, or launching an online course platform that covers a wide range of topics to cater to curious minds. with their natural social skills, gemini could also excel in creating a networking app or social media consulting service. offering services like translation, podcasting, or even freelance journalism can keep income flowing, as gemini is well-suited to manage multiple streams of revenue. their knack for curiosity-driven ventures and networking makes them ideal for businesses that involve idea-sharing, quick adaptability, and community engagement.

cancer in the 2nd house can increase earnings by focusing on nurturing and emotionally resonant businesses that bring comfort to others. they might start a home-cooked meal delivery service, a childcare center, or a family-focused event planning service that organizes intimate gatherings like birthdays and reunions. cancer could also do well in real estate, particularly with home staging or property management that emphasizes creating warm, inviting spaces. they could excel in interior decorating, especially with a focus on cozy, family-oriented spaces, or start a handcrafted candle or blanket line. by building businesses that revolve around care, comfort, and family, cancer can create loyal clients and establish long-term success through emotional connections.

leo in the 2nd house maximizes profits by showcasing their creativity and leadership, often excelling in businesses that allow them to stand out and build a brand. leo could find success with a personal brand consultancy, fashion line, or luxury event planning business. they might enjoy launching a social media channel focused on lifestyle or self-improvement, where they can attract sponsorships or sell branded merchandise. leo also thrives in roles where they can influence and inspire others, so they might consider starting a motivational speaking business, an acting or dance academy, or a high-end boutique. with their flair for self-expression, leo profits best when they create high-quality, visually captivating products and services that let their star power shine through.

virgo in the 2nd house finds financial success through practical, detail-oriented services that provide high value and efficiency. they excel in businesses that involve organization, health, and precision, such as financial consulting, tax preparation, or a personal organizing service. virgo might also thrive with a nutrition or wellness coaching business, offering tailored health plans or holistic products like herbal supplements or self-care kits. a digital bookkeeping service, copyediting business, or virtual assistant agency could also bring them steady profits, as virgo’s meticulous nature appeals to clients who seek reliability and structure. by focusing on services that emphasize quality and organization, virgo builds a reputation for excellence that attracts a steady client base.

libra in the 2nd house can increase earnings by leveraging their skills in diplomacy, aesthetics, and partnerships. they could start a wedding planning business, a floral design company, or a luxury lifestyle brand that sells carefully curated home décor items. libra would also excel in public relations consulting or brand management roles, where they can help clients present a refined, balanced image. creating a high-end art gallery, a boutique law firm, or a relationship coaching service could also align well with libra’s skills. libra thrives in partnership-focused ventures, so building collaborative business models or co-founding a business with others can also enhance their profitability and bring a sense of harmony to their financial life.

scorpio in the 2nd house maximizes profits by tapping into their ability to handle intensity and complexity, often succeeding in fields like finance, psychology, and research. scorpio could build wealth by creating a private investigation firm, a psychotherapy practice, or a financial planning service specializing in wealth management or estate planning. they might also thrive in real estate investment, particularly with properties that need transformation, such as flipping houses or managing rental properties. scorpio may also excel in businesses related to holistic healing, offering reiki or shadow work coaching. by focusing on industries that require trust, depth, and resilience, scorpio can attract clients who value privacy and are willing to invest in transformational services.

sagittarius in the 2nd house can increase profits by embracing their love for adventure, growth, and education. they could launch a travel agency specializing in unique cultural experiences, a language learning platform, or a motivational speaking business that offers courses and workshops. sagittarius could also thrive by creating a publishing company focused on philosophical or inspirational content or starting a tour guiding business for international destinations. their enthusiasm for knowledge makes them great at teaching, so they might consider offering online courses or starting a coaching business in a field they’re passionate about. by aligning with growth-oriented ventures, sagittarius can attract an audience that values inspiration and big-picture thinking.

capricorn in the 2nd house maximizes profits through disciplined, long-term planning and a practical approach to business. they’re well-suited for businesses like a corporate consulting firm, project management agency, or investment portfolio service. capricorn could also do well in real estate development, particularly with rental properties or commercial buildings. they might find success by starting a financial advisory firm or creating a luxury goods company focused on high-end, timeless products like leather goods or fine jewelry. by aligning with industries that reward patience and professionalism, capricorn can build a solid financial foundation and enjoy steady growth, often seeing long-term success through conservative but reliable investments.

aquarius in the 2nd house can increase profits by focusing on innovation, technology, and humanitarian ventures. they might launch a tech startup, a renewable energy company, or a social media platform that prioritizes community and ethical interaction. aquarius could also find success with a nonprofit organization focused on social justice, an eco-friendly product line, or a collaborative workspace for creatives and freelancers. their futuristic mindset makes them perfect for ventures in artificial intelligence, blockchain technology, or virtual reality. by aligning their finances with progressive and forward-thinking industries, aquarius can attract clients and customers who value innovation and social impact.

pisces in the 2nd house maximizes profits by leaning into their creativity, compassion, and spirituality. they may thrive in a music or art therapy practice, a spiritual coaching business, or a holistic wellness center that offers services like yoga, meditation, and crystal healing. pisces could also succeed by creating a boutique art studio, a dream journal line, or a subscription service for wellness products like essential oils, herbal teas, and calming rituals. they’re drawn to businesses that help others heal or connect with their inner selves, so they may also find success in fields like astrology, psychic readings, or intuitive counseling. by aligning with businesses that emphasize emotional well-being and creativity, pisces can build a profitable venture that resonates deeply with clients who seek personal and spiritual growth.

[lolacelest101]

No Need For Privacy

18+ MDNI

Hii!!! This is my first story or anything like this that I write and publish so I am sure it will be bad. I would love to get your feedback and let me know if I missed anything in the TWs. I am a big fan of F1 and other mainstream spaces so I will try to do more in the future. Also here is Part 2

Happy Reading!

Word Count: 6131

Themes: Lando!Norris x Fem!American!reader, Embarrassing moment turn spicy, next door neighbor, close proximity

Smutty tings: wall pinning, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, mirror sex, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!!), spanking, oral sex, slight edging, fingering, gagging, praise and degradation kink.

Your POV

I moved to Monaco a week ago with my two best friends from work, Liana and Aaliyah. It’s been a dream come true for all of us, especially since our company launched a new project in the Monaco branch and requested our expertise.

Settling in has been a breeze, mostly thanks to Alexander Qasemi, the top manager of the Monaco office. He has multiple investments in the area and offered to rent out one of his properties to us at a discount. It’s conveniently close to the office, and his wife, Catalina, has been a lifesaver, helping us get set up, showing us around, and pointing out all the spots we need to check out. Coming from Florida, Monaco feels like a mix of Palm Beach and Miami, but it’s still a world apart from Tampa, where we grew up.

The house has three bedrooms, each with its own view from the second floor. We picked rooms based on the views, but I ended up going for the one with extra closet space—even if it has a “boring” view of the street and a direct line of sight into the house next door. And judging by what I’ve seen, the neighbor isn’t big on privacy; I can see right into what looks like the main bedroom.

I wake up to Liana singing loudly to what sounds like a new song by The Weeknd, her voice filling the house. Squinting as sunlight streams into my room, I reluctantly drag myself up and into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, choosing to ignore my messy bed hair. Liana’s door is open, and she spots me staggering around like a zombie.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she shouts, singing along with the song. All I can think is, It’s way too early for this.

I shuffle back to my room and glance at the clock on my nightstand. It flashes 10:32 AM, and panic hits—I remember that Catalina mentioned she’d be here around 10:45 AM to show us more of the area, and she insisted we make time for it.

I rush back into the hallway, suddenly wide awake. “Liana, why didn’t you wake us up? Catalina’s gonna be here any minute!”

Liana smirks and says, “I did, about 30 minutes ago. Aaliyah’s already up and made coffee. You told me I was ‘handsome and sexy’ and asked for five more minutes.” She’s trying not to laugh, and my face goes red as I realize I was probably having an almost wet dream.

“Well… he sure was, wasn’t he?” I say, trying to brush it off. “But we still need to hurry.”

After a quick change into something suitable for the weather, I throw on some black skinny jeans that hug my curves, a short flowy black-and-white striped top, and sneakers.

“Y/N, come down! Catalina’s here,” Aaliyah calls up the stairs.

I see her car pulling up from my window, so I run down to grab a quick sip of coffee before she knocks on the door. Liana’s sitting on the couch, putting her shoes on, and I lean against the counter, downing my coffee like it’s a race. Aaliyah opens the door, greeting Catalina with hugs and kisses. I set my mug down, go over to greet her, and offer to make her a coffee before we start the tour.

Catalina’s dressed in a floral top and white pants, looking like the definition of “aging like fine wine.” Despite being in her 60s, she doesn’t look a day over 40. She radiates warmth, like a grandmother everyone wishes they had.

Liana goes back to grab her phone, and as Catalina and I step outside, we bump into a man with dark hair and intense eyes. Catalina lights up as soon as she sees him, opening her arms for a hug.

“Oh, Max! I didn’t know you’d be here!” she says, surprised, pulling him in for an embrace.

“It was very last-minute for the Monaco GP,” he replies, hugging her back. When he lets go, he glances at me expectantly.

“Max, this is Y/N,” Catalina says. “She moved here a week ago with her friends.”

Max extends his hand, and I shake it, trying to keep my cool. “Nice to meet you. I guess we’ll be running into each other a lot,” I say, smiling.

Holy shit, Max Fewtrell is staying next door! My mind races, and I make a mental note to change my Quadrant phone case ASAP—I don’t want him thinking I’m some obsessive fan.

Max’s voice snaps me back. “Ah, an American accent! Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

I laugh lightly as Liana and Aaliyah join us. I introduce them, and Max shakes their hands before introducing himself.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m not exactly your neighbor, but my best friend lives here, so you’ll probably see him more often than me. Oh—there he is now,” he adds, looking over my shoulder.

My heart skips. The only person this could be is Lando Norris, and I’m about to pretend I’m way cooler than I actually am.

I snap back to see Lando Norris, head down, fiddling with his car keys. When he looks up, he immediately spots Catalina, a smile breaking across his face.

“Hey, you! How’ve you been? I already miss having you as my neighbor,” he says, giving her a hug.

She laughs, “I’ve missed you too, but I brought you some new company, so you won’t miss me too much.” Catalina turns to us with a smile. “Lando, these are the new neighbors: Liana, Aaliyah, and Y/N.”

Lando shakes each of our hands. His grip is firm, his fingers slightly calloused, probably from hours on the simulator. When he gets to me, I feel his gaze linger a bit longer, like he’s trying to place me.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy, but… you’re the one sleeping in that room, right?” He nods toward my bedroom window.

Caught off guard, I stammer, “Uh… yeah, that’s mine. Why?”

A faint blush crosses his face, a sly grin forming as he glances back at me. “You might want to, uh… move your mirror. Just saying.”

It takes a second for the realization to hit, but when it does, I’m mortified. I remember putting my large gold mirror directly across from the window and how, last night, after a long day of rearranging, I decided to… “treat” myself, lights on and all.

My mind races back to that memory—me stripping down, lying on my bed, a vibrator in one hand…

I force myself back to the present, trying to salvage what little dignity I have left. “Oh! I didn’t realize anyone was home over there… It looked empty all week.”

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. “Yeah, I just got back last night. And… well, let’s just say I got quite the welcome back.”

The heat rising in my cheeks is unbearable, and I quickly turn to Catalina. “So, Catalina, you mentioned we have a lot of places to see today?”

I feel Lando’s eyes on me, making my skin prickle with heat.

“Yes! Let’s get going.” Catalina waves goodbye to the guys, and we start heading toward her SUV. As I walk away, I can still feel Lando’s gaze burning into me, like he’s savoring every second of my embarrassment.

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

Later That Night

The night air is warm and slightly humid, with a faint breeze blowing in from the sea. We’d just gotten back from the club, laughing and chattering as we climbed out of the cab. Aaliyah and Liana are still buzzing with energy, but I hang back a bit, enjoying the cool air on my flushed skin.

Liana nudges my shoulder. “We’re going inside to get some water. You good out here?”

I nod, waving them off. “Yeah, I just need a moment to cool down. I’ll be right behind you.”

They head inside, leaving me alone in the quiet of the street. I close my eyes, letting the night’s calm settle around me, when I hear footsteps. I look up, and there’s Lando, standing just a few feet away with Max at his side. Max offers a friendly nod before slipping inside, leaving Lando and me alone on the sidewalk.

“Well, look who it is,” Lando drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you out here this late.”

I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “Just needed some air. The club was loud.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense. “So, have you moved that mirror yet?”

I feel my cheeks heat up despite the cool night air. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because it’s hard to forget. Didn’t realize you were such an exhibitionist, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I didn’t know anyone was watching. And I’m not an exhibitionist.”

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked pretty comfortable up there, totally absorbed… didn’t even close the blinds.”

The tension between us is thick, the memory of last night making my pulse race. I cross my arms, feeling his gaze linger on me. “Well, you could’ve looked away.”

“Could’ve,” he agrees, stepping even closer until he’s barely a foot away. His voice drops lower, his tone laced with something dark and enticing. “But I didn’t want to.”

A shiver runs through me as his words sink in. We’re standing close enough now that I can feel his warmth, his eyes scanning my face, searching for something. His gaze drops briefly to my lips, and I can feel the air crackling between us, heavy and charged.

I tilt my head, giving him a challenging look. “You get off on watching your neighbors, then?”

His smirk deepens. “Not usually. But you’re not just any neighbor, are you?”

I swallow, feeling my resolve slipping. “And what makes me so special?”

Lando’s hand lifts, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, lingering just a second too long. “Something about you… can’t quite put my finger on it.”

His voice is rougher now, barely above a whisper. Every nerve in my body is on fire, my breath hitching as his gaze drops to my lips again.

“What are you waiting for, then?” I murmur, my voice betraying a hint of a dare.

He chuckles softly, his fingers trailing down my cheek. “You sure you can handle it?”

I lean forward, closing the space between us just enough that I can feel the heat of his breath against my lips. “I think I can manage.”

Lando’s hand moves to my waist, pulling me a fraction closer until there’s barely any space left between us. “Careful, princess. Once we start, I might not stop.”

His words are a warning, but his eyes tell a different story—one that has me aching to close the distance, to see just how far this tension can go.

Just as Lando leans in, his hand firmly on my waist and his eyes locked on mine, the front door swings open, breaking the moment.

“Y/N!” Aaliyah calls out, her voice bright and oblivious. “You coming? We need you to settle a debate on which of us danced better tonight!”

I pull back, startled, and glance over at the girls standing in the doorway. They don’t notice Lando standing in the shadows just out of their line of sight.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be right in,” I call, trying to keep my voice steady, heart still racing from the almost-kiss.

Lando chuckles softly, his hand slipping from my waist, though his gaze doesn’t leave mine. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans down, his lips grazing my ear, voice low and teasing. “Guess we’ll have to pick this up some other time, hmm?”

My breath catches, and I turn to give him a playful glare, but he’s already smirking, enjoying every second of my flustered expression. I can barely think straight, still caught up in the heated moment we were just sharing.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmurs, his tone laced with a promise that has my heart thudding against my chest. He steps back, giving me one last lingering look before turning toward his house. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder with that signature smirk.

“Don’t let those blinds stay open tonight,” he says, voice dripping with suggestion. “Or do. Your call.”

I feel a blush rising to my cheeks as he disappears into the darkness, leaving me there with my heart pounding and my mind racing.

I turn back toward the house, trying to regain my composure as I walk inside. Aaliyah and Liana are too caught up in their dance debate to notice the flush on my face or the slight tremble in my hands.

But as I head upstairs, all I can think about is Lando’s words, his hand on my waist, the almost-kiss that left me wanting so much more. That smirk, that challenge—it’s all burned into my mind, and I can still feel the heat of his touch lingering on my skin.

I lie in bed, staring at my mirror across from the window, replaying the night in my mind. And, despite my better judgment, I leave the blinds just a little open.

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

The Next Morning

I wake up to a quiet house, the morning sun streaming in through my half-open blinds. Liana and Aaliyah left early to grab some groceries, promising to be back soon, but I decided to stay and sleep in. After a while, though, I find myself wide awake and craving something sweet—specifically, chocolate chip cookies.

I slip into some cozy clothes and head downstairs, popping on some music as I pull ingredients from the cupboards. Soon, the smell of warm cookies fills the air, and I feel a little proud of my spontaneous baking session. Figuring it’d be a nice way to break the ice, I plate a few to bring next door later.

Just as I pull out the last tray from the oven, there’s a knock at the door. I wipe my hands on a towel, open it, and, sure enough, there’s Lando, standing there with his signature smirk.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he says, stepping in before I can even invite him. “Saw the girls head out and figured you’d still be here. Thought you’d sleep all day after last night’s… excitement.”

I feel my cheeks heat instantly, but I roll my eyes, trying to brush it off. “Good morning to you, too. And no, I don’t sleep all day. I’m actually productive.”

He glances at the mixing bowls and cooling cookies. “Productive, huh? Baking cookies for the new neighbors?” He reaches over, snagging one from the plate. “Are these just for me?”

“They’re for the neighbors,” I say, crossing my arms with a smirk. “But you’re welcome to have one.”

He takes a bite, savoring it with an approving nod. “Alright, alright—not bad. Didn’t peg you as a homemaker.”

“I’ve got layers,” I tease, nudging him lightly.

He chuckles, but his gaze drifts around the kitchen, taking in the scattered ingredients and my little baking mess. His eyes eventually settle back on me, a glint of mischief lighting them up.

“So, I gotta ask,” he says, leaning against the counter, “did you actually move that mirror? Or should I go check?”

I feel a flicker of heat under his gaze, but I keep my tone even, hoping he won’t catch on. “Of course I did. You were right—it needed to be moved.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Oh, yeah? Somehow, I don’t quite believe you.”

Before I can stop him, he’s already heading for the stairs, and my heart leaps. “Lando!” I laugh nervously, following after him. “You don’t need to go up there!”

“Need to see for myself,” he says over his shoulder, that smirk still on his face. “If you really moved it, then you shouldn’t mind me checking.”

He starts toward the stairs, and I blink, realizing what he means. “Wait, Lando—”

But he’s already halfway up, glancing back with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re shy now.”

I trail him up the stairs, heart racing. The truth is, I didn’t move the mirror—it’s still in the exact same spot, right across from the bed. And now he’s about to see it.

He steps into my room and glances around, his gaze landing on the mirror across from the bed, right where he left it in his memory. The corner of his mouth lifts, and he lets out a low chuckle, clearly amused.

“You didn’t move it,” he murmurs, his voice low and pleased.

I cross my arms, trying to play it off. “I like it where it is. Why should I change it just because you got an eyeful?”

Lando steps closer, his gaze never wavering from mine, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I want another one.”

The tension between us thickens, the air electric. He’s close enough now that I can feel his warmth, his gaze dropping to my lips before returning to my eyes. His hand moves up to gently brush a strand of hair from my face, lingering just a moment too long, fingers tracing down my jaw.

“You’re not afraid of a little attention, are you?” he asks, his voice soft, teasing.

I swallow, trying to steady my breathing. “Depends on who’s watching.”

He leans in even closer, his breath warm against my skin. “Then tonight… don’t close those blinds. And don’t move that mirror.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and filled with promise. My heart races, every nerve tingling as I meet his gaze, a challenge sparking between us that’s impossible to ignore.

Lando’s fingers linger on my jaw for just a moment longer, then he pulls back, that smirk still on his lips as he steps away.

“Enjoy your cookies, Y/N,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he heads back downstairs, leaving me standing there, breathless, the echo of his words replaying in my mind.

As I watch him leave, I can still feel the heat of his touch, the thrill of his words searing into my memory. And tonight? Well, let’s just say I don’t plan on closing those blinds.

----------

Later That Night

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting Monaco in a warm, golden glow, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, adjusting the last few things on my dresser. The blinds are open just enough, casting a soft reflection of the room and inviting in a sliver of the night. I glance over my shoulder at the window, knowing full well who might be watching.

I breathe in, feeling the excitement build. Tonight, I’m ready to give him that “show” he teased me about. I settle onto my bed, relaxing against the pillows, and allow myself to sink into the evening’s quiet. There’s an awareness in the air, the thrill of knowing that maybe, just maybe, I’m being watched.

I reach over to my nightstand, casually bringing out my favorite toys, a purple vibrating dildo and a vibrating toy in the shape of a tongue. Slowly, I begin to lose myself in the moment, all too aware of the tantalizing possibility that Lando might be watching from his window.

Just as I’m truly relaxing into the scene, there’s a firm knock at the door, shattering the silence. My heart jumps as I glance at the door, pulse racing. I hesitate, but something inside pushes me to go see who it is.

I make my way downstairs, opening the door just wide enough to see Lando standing there, his eyes dark, filled with that same mischievous look that’s been driving me crazy. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“You left your blinds open,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with suggestion. “Thought I’d come by and… check on you.”

In one swift motion, he closes the space between us, his hands sliding around my waist, pressing me firmly against the wall, his body heat igniting every inch of me. His gaze locks onto mine, daring me to pull away, but there’s no chance I would. He dips his head, his lips grazing my ear as he whispers, “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

I shiver, the thrill of his words sparking something wild and eager between us. His hands roam, fingers slipping under my shirt, exploring every curve as his lips capture mine in a kiss that’s hungry and unapologetic, each movement demanding a response.

As he carries me to the bedroom, there’s an electric anticipation, an unspoken promise that fills the space between us. The moment we reached my room, he pressed me against the wall, his hands firm on my waist, holding me steady. His gaze meets mine in the mirror across from us, dark and intense, every look fueling the thrill building between us.

He leans in, his voice a low murmur against my neck. “You knew I couldn’t stay away, didn’t you?” His words send a shiver through me, and he slides his hands along my waist, drawing me even closer, his touch both possessive and gentle, filled with the heat we’ve been holding back.

“I did—but I didn’t anticipate you barging in at this hour,” I manage to say between kisses, each one feeling more primal than the last. My core seems to have a mind of its own, my hips grinding against him, wanting more. Needing more.

He grins against my lips. “Didn’t take you for the needy type, princess.” He pulls back, sitting on the bed, leaving me craving the contact.

“Well, princess, not everything comes easy,” he murmurs, his gaze growing hungrier. “You teased me, so now it’s time you learn your lesson.”

I rise from his lap, tugging his shirt off in one motion, my hands exploring his toned chest and feeling his muscles tense under my touch. I trail kisses from his jaw down his neck, my lips grazing every inch, each one making my core ache with anticipation.

Sliding to my knees between his thighs, I reach the waistband of his trousers and boxers, sliding them down to let his hard cock spring free. My eyes, full of lust and need, are fixed on him, my mouth craving the feel of him. I waste no time wrapping my hand around his length, bringing my mouth to the tip, letting my tongue swirl slowly around the head before sliding down, inch by inch.

His moans and grunts grow stronger, more primal by the second. His hands grip my hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail, giving both of us a clearer view in the mirror.

“Fuck, princess, look at you, being such a good girl for me,” he growls, tilting my head to see his cock sliding deep into my mouth, the tip pressing at the back of my throat. Our eyes meet in the reflection, his grin never fading, eyes bright with satisfaction at the sight.

I try hard not to choke or gag as he picks up the pace, using my mouth for his pleasure. I can feel my own need intensifying, wetness pooling as I slip my free hand between my legs, seeking a hint of relief from the ache.

Just as I feel his cum on my tongue, sliding down my throat, my moans vibrate around his length, making him twitch in my mouth. His gaze shifts to the mirror, catching sight of my hand as I touch myself. In that instant, he releases his hold on my head and pulls his cock from my mouth, leaving a mix of confusion and hunger on my face.

“Princess… did I tell you that you could touch yourself?” Lando leans in, lifting my chin so our faces are close, his breath warm against my lips.

“No, you didn’t,” I reply, a hint of rebellion mixed with anticipation flashing across my face.

“Well, bad girls need punishments, so let me think of something.” An idea lights up his eyes as he guides me up onto the bed, positioning me on my hands and knees, facing the mirror. My mascara has smudged, trailing down my cheeks from the tears shed while he was in my mouth.

Part of me craves for him to finally take me and fill me up, while another part wants to see just what punishment he has in store.

He stands beside the bed and instructs me to keep my ass up and face down, so I adjust to ensure we’re both visible in the mirror. Once I settle, Lando’s hand trails from my hair down the arch of my back and onto my ass. He rubs my cheeks, his fingers dipping lower to feel my wetness, sticky and creamy, dripping onto the mattress.

“Look at you. So wet and needy for me,” he murmurs, bringing two fingers coated in my arousal back to my lips. I open my mouth, ready for a taste, and he slides his fingers in, letting me lick them clean. His breath is warm on my neck as he leans close to whisper in my ear.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves unless I say so.” He nibbles on my earlobe. “But it seems like you might just be my needy little slut instead.”

He steps away, the cool air hitting my sensitive core, sending shivers down my spine and adding a thrill to the moment.

Without warning, a sharp smack lands on one of my ass cheeks, the pain mixing with a tingling heat. He rubs over the reddened spot before delivering another smack, this time to the other side.

“Since you teased me twice, you’ll be getting four spanks—unless I see you haven’t learned your lesson.” He counts, “One,” landing a solid smack, then “Two,” and repeats on both sides. By the time he finishes the fourth, his hand has left my skin bright red, each touch leaving a sensitive, electric throb. A mix of pleasure and pain shows on my face with each strike.

“That’s it, my perfect princess,” he murmurs, brushing his fingertips gently over my sore, reddened skin. “You did so well. I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” I breathe, arching my back and raising my hips higher, my aching core desperate for attention. A grin spreads across his face as his fingers slip into my folds, rubbing my swollen clit, drawing a moan from my lips with every heavy breath.

Lando’s hunger grows more possessive as he slips a finger inside me, filling my tight heat. The sensation sends my body into overdrive, and the pleasure on his face only fuels the fire inside me. He slides another finger in, his free hand roaming along the curve of my arching spine.

His thumb continues to circle my sensitive clit, his pace quickening as he pumps his fingers in and out, each movement leaving me trembling with need. I bite my lip, trying to muffle my moans, but the pleasure is too much.

“Lando… I’m—close,” I manage to breathe out between gasps and moans.

“Oh, princess, I can see that,” he murmurs, sliding his fingers out of me suddenly, leaving an unbearable emptiness in their wake.

My wetness clings to his fingers in a glistening string as he pulls them away. “Fuck, you look so good on my fingers,” he growls, his gaze fixed on the sight of my arousal. Slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips, wrapping his tongue around them and sucking them clean.

“FUCK. And you taste ten thousand times better.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he savors the taste, the heat in the room climbing higher. The sight of him tasting me sends my brain spiraling into bliss, my gaping mouth wordlessly wishing for more.

Moments later, he leans down, his tongue sliding through my folds, the sensation stealing the air from my lungs. He places a light, teasing kiss on my core before beginning to suck and eat every inch of my pussy with eager determination.

“Fuck, you’re addictive, princess,” he murmurs against my entrance, the vibration of his voice making me shiver. His hands grip my ass firmly, spreading me wider, giving him full access to devour me.

His tongue teases my entrance, flicking and dipping inside, making my body twitch and ache for more. My hips start to move on their own, thrusting slightly, begging for him to go deeper.

Without warning, he flips me onto my back, positioning me for a better view. His hands grasp my thighs, and with quick precision, he pulls me to the edge of the bed. Dropping to his knees, he toys with my clit, his fingers circling and pressing before diving back between my legs, tongue working with unrelenting fervor.

“Now this, princess,” he murmurs between kisses and licks, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “I’d eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of my life.”

His words push me closer to the edge, my climax approaching rapidly as my legs begin to tremble. His grip tightens on me, holding me in place, preventing me from pulling away from his relentless mouth. My body shudders suddenly as the wave of relief I’ve been craving washes over me.

My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as I grind against his mouth, riding out every pulse of my orgasm, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

I feel my arousal spill into his mouth as he greedily licks and sucks, not letting a single drop go to waste. He stands, his eyes dark and filled with hunger, leaning in to kiss me. The taste of my release lingers on his lips, and I moan softly, lost in the sensation.

His hard cock presses against my core, grinding against me with desperate need, and I instinctively move my hips, craving to feel him inside me. His kiss grows rough and possessive, his hand sliding down from my neck to my breasts. He pinches one of my nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through me and drawing a gasp that he swallows into the kiss, his grin wicked and satisfied.

“If my needy princess wants something, she has to ask for it,” he whispers, his lips parting from mine with a teasing grin, his breath warm against my ear.

His hand slides down to my clit, his fingers circling and flicking, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. My breath hitches, and a soft moan escapes my lips, my mind struggling to process his words.

“Use your words, princess. Tell me what you want,” he growls, his voice firm yet tantalizing, his fingers working me into a frenzy.

“Fuck me, please,” I murmur, my voice trembling as the heat builds in my core, every nerve in my body begging for him.

“Say that again, princess,” he demands, his tone dripping with playful dominance. “A little louder for me.”

“Fuck! I need you to fuck me—to feel you inside me. Please!” The frustration and raw need are evident in my voice, my body aching for him to claim me.

“That’s my good little slut,” he murmurs, satisfaction clear in his tone. He adjusts himself at my entrance, teasing me for a moment before slowly sliding inside, letting me adjust to his size. The stretch is overwhelming, and my fingers instinctively trail down his back, nails digging in and leaving marks. He jolts forward at the sensation, filling me deeper and making my head fall back, my back arching as I gasp at the sudden invasion.

He growls into my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. The rhythm shifts, his chest lifting from mine, giving him a full view of my bare body beneath him. One hand slides to my stomach, pressing down lightly as he picks up speed, fucking me harder and faster, his thrusts deep and commanding.

“That’s it, princess,” he growls, his voice raw with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Let me stretch you just enough to make your pussy become a ring on my cock.” His hips slam into mine with a hunger that matches my own, the sound of our skin meeting echoing through the room.

As his thrusts grow more desperate, his hand reaches for the vibrating tongue toy on the nightstand. Without missing a beat, he presses it against my clit, the sudden overload of sensation making me throw my head back, a loud moan of his name escaping my lips as my hands clutch the sheets for dear life.

A wicked glint of satisfaction flashes across Lando’s face, his grin smug and proud. He leans in close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “Princess, as much as your moans are music to my ears, we can’t have your friends interrupting us right now—or finding out that their sweet little friend is such a good slut for the guy next door.”

Before I can respond, he grabs my black lace panties by the bed—the ones I’d removed during my earlier “show”—and gently pushes them into my mouth, muffling my cries of ecstasy as he continues to claim me.

My pussy clenches and twitches around his cock as his thrusts grow wetter, the sound of our movements filling the room. My orgasm teeters on the edge, his cum seeping into me, intensifying the sensation.

His growls and moans grow deeper and more primal. “Fuck, princess, you must be close,” he murmurs, his face satisfied as he watches my trembling legs and the euphoria written all over my face.

My muffled cries escape past the panties still in my mouth, vibrating softly in the heated air. “Cum for me, princess,” Lando commands, thrusting into me twice more. His words send me hurtling into my second orgasm of the night, my body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure consume me.

Lando’s thrusts grow sloppy, his grip on my waist tightening as he buries himself deep inside me. My pussy milks every last drop of his release, the warmth of his cum splashing against my inner walls. With a low growl, he slides out of me, both of our arousals dripping down my thighs and pooling onto the mattress.

He steps back, his eyes lighting up as he takes in the sight of my used, naked body, glistening and dripping with his cum. Slowly, his gaze traces every inch of me, savoring the evidence of what we’d just done.

“You know,” he says, his voice still thick with lust, “I might want this view every hour of the day from now on.” His tone is intoxicating, and he steps closer, gently removing the panties from my mouth before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “What do you think? You agree?” His smirk deepens, a dimple just beginning to peek through.

“I think that can be arranged,” I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck, a cheeky smile spreading across my face.

“Perfect,” he says, brushing his lips along my skin in a trail of butterfly kisses. “Let me start a shower for you, and then you can get some rest.” His voice is softer now, but still filled with care.

As he moves toward the bathroom, I pull myself up onto shaky feet, my body sore in all the best ways. Each ache is a reminder of every moment we’d just shared. I follow him, leaning on the sink in front of the mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection—flushed, satisfied, and completely undone. The sensation of his cum still seeping out of me draws my attention, and I can’t help but slide a finger down to catch a drop, bringing it to my lips. I shut my eyes, savoring the taste.

Fuck, I need more.

Lando calls to me, his voice echoing softly under the sound of the shower. I walk toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he turns to face me. Pulling him into a sensual kiss, I whisper against his lips, “Are you up for a round two?” A glimmer of mischief dances in my eyes.

Lando grins at my request, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. Leaning close, he murmurs under the steam of the shower, “I could never deny you a request like that, princess.”

The End

[girllblogging777]

𝑆𝐿𝑌𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑁 𝐵𝑂𝑌𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁𝑆

↳ summer vacations edition

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

✩ the whole friendgroup is spending summer at the malfoy manor, while draco’s parents are gone to france.

☆ because of their family situation, mattheo and theo are practically at home here. on the other side, enzo and blaise are as excited as kids on christmas day.

☆ running around the property, playing hide and seek and going on what they call “side quests”, you’ll never catch them relaxed.

☆ when all the boys went grocery shopping, they came back with an obscene amount pop tarts, beer and pickles. theo also insisted on “trying new snacks” like biscuits and gravy flavoured crisps (yes it exists). they ended up doing a mukbang at 3am in the kitchen.

☆ despite not being keen on cooking, blaise insisted on making s’mores in the barbecue. it ended up being somehow edible and they spent the evening lazily chilling on the terrace while mattheo lazily played guitar and tried teaching it to enzo (key word : tried.)

☆ however, there is NOTHING lazy and chill about pool days with the boys. the malfoys have a huge pool and it managed to be almost emptied up after hours of playing water polo and a thousand dives-in.

☆ pranks pranks pranks !!! it all started when draco woke up by a bucket of water being thrown on his freshly washed hair. over the next few days, the boys all got back at each other with spicy drinks, sharpie drawings on their face, a giant fake spider outside and last but not least, fireworks in the garden (guess whose idea that was)

☆ blaise saw how muggle make vlogs on youtube and decided to do the same. he follows all the boys around the house 24/7 until theo kicks him out “get out of the bathroom or else i’ll throw the camera away, i’m showering bitch !”

☆ and mattheo developed an obsession with making cocktails so they often end up drinking piña colada for breakfast. don’t ask.

☆ despite the weird food and constant messing around, summer with the boys is the best thing ever.

☆ and last but definitely not least, a giant party at the end of the month. that’s the only thing all the boys agreed on and it’s the most famous topic once school starts again. no one throws a party quite like the slytherin boys.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : wrote this by the pool and then had to re-write it cause it got deleted… likes/comments/re logs are welcome !!!

@fluffycookies22 @iris-qt @reys-letters @larmesdevanille @mattheosdior @fbvreadingblog @bellatrix-lestrange5 @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @helendeath @myunperfektstorys @elsie-bells @redeemingvillains @enyway @dexoq @justscrollinthrough @jolly4holly @yikesitslush @icantkeepmyplantsalive @moonlightreader649

[lady-djarin]

the ranch manager

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: age gap (legal - 20s/50s), joel wearing a cowboy hat needs its own warning, kinda yellowstone drama vibes, tipsy? sex (joel, not reader)-everyone consenting here!, outdoor sex, piv sex, fingering, edging, mdni 18+

word count: 3.1k

a/n: fun fact- my dad owns a ranch in wyoming so i do have some first hand knowledge lol (except for the sexy ranch manager thing) but my recent visit inspired this as they were gathering cows while i was there. i hope you enjoy!

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

This stupid city was going to drive you nuts. Chicago was everything you wanted when you moved there. The big city was so much better than the extreme quiet of Jackson, Wyoming where your family owned and operated a ranch. You grew up in the small city your whole life, finally wanting some freedom in college but after your 3rd year there it was starting to feel cramped. There is no privacy in the city, everyone stacked on top of each other, too many people, too little space. You needed out, just for a while.

So you found yourself back home, at the ranch. The sprawling space on the property made you feel more at peace than you ever felt in the city. It was your second day back home when you met some of the new staff working for your dad. Tess was kind of like a supervisor for the younger guys who did the day to day work. Tommy and his wife Maria were kind of doing a little of everything; ordering, organizing and even some cowboying.

Then you met Joel, the ranch manager. He was broad and imposing in the best way possible. The salt and pepper beard framed his plush lips that rarely curled into a slight but striking smile. His hooked nose looked like it would brush all the right places and you longed to run your fingers through his dark waves. While he looked to be in about his late 40’s or early 50’s, he was built and honestly sexy as hell.

You knew you needed him.

Because of his initial grumpy demeanor he did intimidate you at first but his soft brown eyes gave away his true nature. Over the few days you were back in town you had been around Joel a lot more, you ended up helping out with small projects on the farm. You were cleaning out some of the horse stalls when you heard him.

Joel was carrying bags of feed into the tack room as he barked orders at one of the workers. Both hands were full as he passed by the stall you were in and you knew the door he was heading to was closed. You knew this was your chance to be with him alone. You knew the moment you met Joel you wanted him, despite the fact that he worked with your dad and he was almost as old as him too. You rushed over to grab the door handle before he reached it, holding it open for him.

“Oh thanks darlin’,” god and his voice. It was deep and rough and it slid down your spine like honey. His southern drawl was rich and it made him all the more alluring.

“No problem, need any help?”

”Actually could ya’ help me get the bags into the bin?” He handed you a box cutter, signaling for you to cut open the bags so he could refill the bin. As you finished your task, Joel came over to take the box cutter back.

God he looked good, he always looked good. You could smell his cologne as he came closer and suddenly it felt like the temperature rose 10 degrees.

Little did you know Joel was eyeing you the whole time, watching the way your legs looked in the jeans that were practically skin tight. The way your hair was messed out of your loose braid, falling around your face in a halo, always drawing his eye.

“Thanks for the help, sugar,” his drawl made your panties wet.

“Sugar?” you licked your lips, unable to look away from his.

He looked sort of panicked for a moment, like he thought he overstepped. You loved it. He saw that you loved it. He must have decided it’s too much of a risk as he stepped away from you and stuttered a response before pocketing his knife.

“Uh… thanks for your help darlin’,” he mumbled as he backed away and out of the tack room and he kind of tripped on his own feet. You felt a little guilty liking the way you made him nervous but it was such a rush. To reduce this larger and older man to a mumbling mess was a huge ego boost.

You followed him out, closing the distance until you were just a few feet away. You saw his eyes widen as he watched you come closer and you felt that surge of satisfaction hit your stomach again.

“Of course, anything you need Joel. Anything.” You tried to sound as seductive as possible and it must have worked as the tips of his ears turned a dusty pink.

“Th-thanks darlin’… I— uh I’ll let you know if… if I need anything else,” his voice broke as he tripped again and tried to put distance between you two. Even though it was obvious he was trying to politely decline you, he was still tempted. His gaze fell to your lips, then your chest and further down until it bounced back to your eyes.

When it looked like he was about to pass out you finally relented.

“Ok Joel, see ya!” You sounded chipper and giddy as you skipped away from him and he finally let out a breath he was holding in.

He needed to control himself but he had a feeling that was going to be difficult with you around.

~

The next time you saw Joel was the big day on the ranch. It was the day the cows were rounded up and tested for pregnancy. By 7am the vet was already set up and the ranch hands along with Tommy and Maria were gathering cows into the corals. You ventured outside to find your dad and Joel standing at the fence watching the crew work.

“Hey kid, how’d you sleep?” Your dad looked tired himself but Joel on the other hand, he seemed nervous.

“Pretty good, I forgot how quiet it is here at night. In Chicago it’s always loud.”

You looked over at Joel who was on the other side of your dad and he looked like he was ready to jump in with the restless cows just to get away from this conversation.

“Why aren’t you out there Joel? Don’t they need you?” You tried to sound innocent but by the look in his eye, he knew you were trying to see how much you could push him.

Your dad laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Oh the old man here hurt his back so he has to sit out.”

“Two old men… how do you two get anything done?”

Your dad looked at you with a fake hurt expression. “Woah… I’m not the one with a hurt back!”

“Ok dad but you’re also not the one out there on a horse so…”

Joel now patted your dad on the back. “She’s got’cha there buddy.”

Your dad stood between you both and swiveled his head back and forth. “You guys suck…” He conveniently found someone who needed his attention and left you alone with Joel. You both stood at the fence and watched the organized chaos as the ranch hands and vet work on each cow.

“So how long y’here for?” Joel's voice seemed a little nervous.

“Well… I’m not sure. The longer I’m here the less I want to go back.” You turned to find him already looking over at you. “It’s just so… peaceful here.”

“I hear ya’,” he adjusted the cowboy hat sitting on his head. “Well except on preg-test day.” Just to prove his point, a cow screeched and tried to run from the herd right towards the two of you. Just as it reached the fence Joel grabbed both of your shoulders and pulled you away, right into his chest. You stumbled a bit but he held you until you were able to keep yourself upright. You look up to find the fence completely caved in, if Joel hadn’t grabbed you, you would have been bleeding on the floor by now.

“Tha—thanks Joel.” Your voice made you sound way more shaken up than you intended. “Jesus, damn cows.”

“They really do hate this vet stuff. Let’s go inside, I need another coffee.”

The two of you went into the ranch office, starting another pot of coffee knowing the cowboys would want more later. When the mugs were full of steaming caffeine, you sat down at the table waiting for Joel to join you.

“You ok, cowboy?” You looked at him up and down, his nervous demeanor evident in his stance.

He flashed that crooked smile as he sat next to you and removed his hat, placing it on the table upside down. You each sipped your coffee and you thought to yourself how kind of sweet it was that this big bad-ass rancher was reduced to an anxious mess by your hand.

The silence was too much to bear and needing a reprieve you picked up his hat and tried it on. It was way too big for your head as it was fitted to him, so it slipped down your forehead. Before you got a chance to adjust it, Joel tipped the brim up above your eyebrows. When he did, your eyes met and for once he was the one making your heart skip a beat. His deep amber eyes were locked on yours and his enticing lips framed by that gray-speckled beard were making you short of breath. All either of you could do was stare at each other, unable to break the spell. Suddenly you realized he was still holding onto the hat brim, then he slid his fingers down along your cheek as a sigh escaped your lips.

“Y’know darlin’… fuck, this is wrong,” he was breathless, like the air was stolen from his lungs.

“What… what’s wrong, Joel?” You were baiting him, making him say the words.

“It’s wrong how much… how much I wanna kiss you.”

Fuck, he was making you weak.

“Why don’t you?”

That suddenly shook him out of his trance, moving away and settling back into his chair, he looked more angry now, maybe in himself.

“I can’t… we can’t. It ain’t right.”

“Why?” You tried not to sound upset so as to scare him away.

“‘Cus, I’m too old and your dad would murder us both,” he looked wrecked. His pupils were saucers and his breath was quick. He looked out the office windows like he was looking for your dad, expecting him to be watching through the glass.

“If you want to talk more… I’ll be down at the lake tonight. midnight.”

And with that you walked off, a saunter in your steps and his hat on your head.

~

The lake on the property wasn’t large but it was somewhere you often felt peace. It’s a good way out from the house so it’s always quiet, the only noise now was the quiet hum of bugs.

You wore a light sleeping dress and robe over it and of course Joel’s hat. It was still pretty warm at night so you were more than comfortable. As you laid out on the blanket in the grass, you thought to yourself that if Joel doesn’t show, you know your answer. You checked your phone for the time; ‘12:07pm’ flashed across the screen. Maybe that was your answer.

“Darlin’?”

Your heart skipped. He came.

You turn to find Joel breaking through the trees, his broad shoulders stretching a dark sweatshirt and hips hugged by those damn jeans.

“Wow, I really thought you wouldn’t come.”

He now looked surprised. “Well someone took my favorite hat.”

“That’s all you came for? The hat?” You faced him as he came and sat down next to you, very close to you.

“Maybe not all I came for…,” he gave you that dazzling smile that’s so rare for him.

You did notice something different, he’s more relaxed, more fluid in his movements.

“Joel, are you drunk?”

He had a kind of spacey look on his face and a twinkle in his eye that shone when he laughed. “Well darlin’, I had one…a few. I was a lil’ nervous…” He looked a little ashamed at his admission.

“That’s ok. Got any more on you?” To your surprise he pulled out a half empty flask from his pants pocket. He opened it for you and took a sip then handed it to you, his eyes drawn to how your lips wrapped around it and whiskey escaped the sides. “Thanks cowboy. What’s got you so nervous, huh?”

He looked at you bashfully as he took another sip before clearing his throat. “Well don’t y’think it’s a little odd for an old man like me to entertain a young pretty thing like you?”

You were so close to him you could smell the soap he must have used mixed with a smell that’s uniquely him. He smells woodsy and manly and inviting and mixed with the feeling of having him so close led you to be bold. He froze as your lips connected, the split second before you melted into each other was one of pure bliss. His lips were softer than you expected and his tongue even softer, both working to take you apart at the seams.

You pulled apart, catching your breath and taking each other in now.

”You— you think I’m… pretty?” Your voice was horse and laced with desire.

Joel’s laugh was fuller now, a deep rumbling thing that made you shiver. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” While he was definitely bubblier than usual, he was deadly serious about this. His deep brown eyes were all the comfort you required and they conveyed his truth; you were everything he could ever want. “I have to ask you darlin’, are you sure you want this? Y‘not just doing this to stick it to your dad or nothin’?”

You smiled at his genuine concern, a sweet gesture from a man who doesn’t want to harm you.

“Joel, ever since I’ve met you, I couldn't get you out of my mind.”

His twinkly eyes widened a bit as a shaken breath escaped his lips. Before he had a chance to respond, you were on him. You straddled his thick thighs and clasped your hands in his dark curls, drawing his mouth to you. The two of you moved together in sync, like you were made for each other. The sparks flying higher as you ground in his lap, trying to create any friction to soothe the ache settled low in your belly.

Joel’s callused hands skimmed your skin, the roughness a stark contrast to your nightgown sliding across your body. He is all man and it was making your cunt throb, you knew you needed him inside you.

“J-Joel, please,” it came out more as a whine.

“Just hol’on darlin’,” he shuffled you around so you were draped on the blanket in the grass and he hovered above you. His nimble fingers pushed under your nightgown, hooked around the thin fabric of your panties and pulled them off your legs. His eyes never left your skin as more was exposed to him, his chest expanding with a deep inhale.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He was mostly speaking to himself, like he was not sure you were even really beneath him.

“P-please I…,” your pleas were cut off by him prying your legs open and sliding two fingers through your gathered wetness. “Oh God…”

To say this man blew your mind would be the understatement of the century. His fingers moved in a way that drew out the deepest pleasure and moans that rival a professional. Thank goodness that no one was around and you could make as much noise as you wanted. He worked his fingers into you with passion and brought you close to the edge.

“I’m c-close. You’re gonna make me cum,” you were delirious with lust. Just as you were about to fall off the edge he pulled away. The noise that left you surprised both of you, sounding more like an animal than human.

He was just as eager as you, unzipping and lowering his pants until he was free. You caught a glimpse of him and knew he was not only enjoying the way you writhed on his fingers, he was preparing you.

“I wanna feel you cum on me, got it darlin’?”

He stroked himself a few times with your arousal, slicking himself as he notched the tip at your entrance. A groan escaped both of you as he slid inside, the stretch of him was almost too much until it dissolved into the most blinding pleasure you’ve ever experienced. You fit together better than any puzzle or lock and key. You were already so close to the edge before but now he was hitting a place inside you that no one else ever had. The coil was winding tighter with every push of his hips, his lips devouring you from your neck to the tips of your breasts. Every move he made felt like heaven and he felt like your god.

“J-Joel… I’m-I’m gonna— gonna cum,” every word was cut off by a moan.

Suddenly he sat up straight, keeping up his movements as he brought his hand down to where you’re joined and circled your clit. The sharp movements shot pleasure through every limb, making you writhe in his lap.

“Cum for me baby… I wanna feel you squeeze my cock darlin’,” his voice was rough like gravel, rumbling through his chest into yours.

That was it.

The command was all you needed to push you over the edge. Your back arched as the tidal wave of pleasure overtook you and your legs locked around his hips.

“Oh fuck… yes. That’s my good girl,” he fucked you through it. His fingers and hips kept up their movements until he fell apart. He stilled inside of you as a deep moan broke free before pushing his spend deeper inside you. You could still feel him pulsing inside of you as you both came down from your highs.

As you lay beside him and looked up at the stars, the sounds of the night surrounding you, Joel wrapped you in his large arms. You talked and kissed and cuddled all night, only breaking apart once the sun started to rise.

He walked you back to your house before heading off to his own, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Am I finally allowed to have my hat back?”

You took the Stetson off your head and placed it back onto his. You looked down to see your panties sticking out of his jeans pocket.

“Well how’s that fair when you get to keep something of mine?”

“No one said it’s fair, darlin’. You can have something of mine next time.”

Next time. Your stomach warmed at the idea. Maybe you’d have to stay here a lot longer than expected.

[traumawhomst]

Platonic Yandere Adopted Dad brain rot

(650 words)

Ok but imagine you’re on the run from the law, and you try and duck through someone’s property. You’ve done it a million times before but this time He’s milling about his property and sees you. You of course are ready to book it but you don’t need him tipping off the police of where you are. You nod along politely when he rambles about the local flora while you try and creep away.

You swear you can hear sirens getting closer when he asks you in for a snack if you want it. He asks in that slightly worried dad tone about when you last ate. You agree to come in quickly practically dragging him to his house, trying to ask questions about the wildflowers he was talking about.

You don’t realize that maybe this was a bad idea until you’re feet away from his back door. Maybe following strange men into unknown houses isn’t the safest idea, but you’ve learned to take some risks and forge ahead.

The house is nice, to your surprise. It comfortable but in the way that was made comfortable by the obvious care and love that wore it out. It was clean with soft looking furniture, decorated like something out of a picture book that was about going to your grandparents.

You sit at the kitchen table, (lovingly scuffed up you note) and find yourself relaxing despite everything. He gets you tea and some leftovers from the night before, sitting across the table with his own tea as he watches you trying not to scarf down his food like a wild animal. He gently prods at the fact you look hungry, and your clothes hadn’t been washed in a while. He even pointed out your shoes (that were functional even if they were mostly duck tape at this point). You almost laughed when he asked you if you were safe at home, leaning forward clear worry in his eyes.

You did your best to spin a good believable story, based on small bits of your past, that you knew you looked rough but thankfully you have someone close to help you get back on your feet. You don’t think he buys it at all but he doesn’t press or pry further instead talking about the area since you were going to stay close by. He talks about his kids, his youngest off to college and how he isn’t used to an empty home.

Even though you came here under false pretenses you find yourself enjoying talking to him. He’s the right mix of goofy dad and gentle concern that made it damn near impossible to say no when he offers a shower and clean clothes. You don’t have to of course, he does understand why you wouldn’t want to, but he’d feel so bad if he didn’t at least see if he had a better pair of shoes to wear.

So you cave, taking the offer of a shower and fresh pair of clothes. It’s not like you planned on staying afterward. He manages to find a pair of boots that fit and gives you some used but sturdy clothes to go along with it.

He doesn’t fight this time when you say you have to go, instead offers you one last cup of tea. After everything you can’t find it in yourself to say deny him the last small thing.

You’re not sure what happened but when you stood to finally leave, your legs folded under you and you woke up in a spare room. He fusses over you and asks if should call your relative or anyone to watch over you until you’re healthy again. Stuck in your lie you, agree to stay just until (he’s convinced you to stay) you’re back on your feet again.

[finelinevogue]

my universe

summary - university can be tough and lonely sometimes, but luckily for you your boyfriend lives nearby

pairing - spencer reid x shy-university!reader

word count - 900

[this is just a little taster... should i continue this? if so feel free to send any ideas/prompts for this pairing you would like to see]

University wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

It was different to what you had been expecting.

You had expected constant house parties. You had expected 9-5 studying and 5-9 partying. You had expected to finally come out of your shell and live life like every extroverted person did. 

But that wasn’t the case.

Instead, university was lonely, isolating and really tough. 

The work was okay but the social life was really hard. 

You remember the first conversation you heard between your roommates like it was yesterday.

“Should we invite them?” 

“We don’t even know their name, so what’s the point?” 

“Yeah you’re right. Going out doesn’t seem like their vibe anyways.”

“So are we going or what?”

You hadn’t even put faces to names before your flatmates had ruled you out as one of them. You had managed to become friendless without even trying. Sometimes a flatmate would come to you if they had a problem with the wifi or they wanted to know whether they could use your milk in the fridge, but other than that you were left alone.

Like tonight.

You were trying your best to study for an upcoming test in a few weeks, seeing as you had nothing else to do, but your flatmates were pre-drinking and it was so loud.

The music was thumping away in the kitchen and they must have invited more people over as there were lots of voices. Too many voices for comfort. 

Your room was small but it was yours.

It was cosy with fairy lights strung up on your walls and crossing the ceilings. There was a huge pinboard of memorabilia that you had brought from home. Some were photos of you and your mum. Some were photos you had taken of your few friends back home. Most were of your boyfriend, Spencer.

In fact a lot of the other tat on your board was shared property between you and Spencer. There were cinema tickets from dates and tiny handmade cards from him to you. 

It was your safety wall, because every time you looked at it you reminded yourself that you weren’t completely alone. 

<.><.><.>

Your phone rang 15 minutes later.

“Hey, you.” You smiled, putting your pen down in a hurry to speak to your boyfriend.

“Hey you, back.”

It was always so good to hear his voice. No matter how far or near he was, his voice was the one comfort in the world that you would crawl home to. 

“You okay? I thought your text said you were going out for drinks with the team?” 

“Plans fell through.” He didn’t sound too bothered.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” 

“Don’t know, really.” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “So where are you now?”

“Funny story…” 

“Okay?”

“I’m like five minutes away from you.” 

You sat up straight in your chair. 

Your attention turned from Spencer to the raving music from the kitchen. It was loud and thumping and it was a wonder that Spencer hadn’t commented on it yet. 

It had taken a while for you to come clean to Spencer about how rubbish your flatmates were, but luckily for you Spencer was the best boyfriend in the world and he only lived half an hour away. Whenever he could he would always come and spend time with you.

There was even that one occasion that he stayed in the library all night with you to practice for a test. No one was better than him.

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked, having noted your silence.

“You’ve saved my night.”

“Well they don’t call me a ‘hero’ for nothing.”

You laughed, “Nice try. I’m not feeding your ego any more than that.” You heard him laugh too.

“Shall I come up or do you want to go somewhere?” Spencer asked.

“Depends.”

“On…?”

“Whether Alicia is going to flirt with you again. I do not need my evil flatmate accidentally tricking you into falling in love with her. It’s probably her master plan.”

Alicia had taken it upon herself to try and smooth talk Spencer when he had first visited. Apparently she couldn’t believe that ‘someone like him’ was dating ‘someone like you.’ That had been a real kick in the teeth. Spencer had pretended to be oblivious and shut your bedroom door in her face though, so that had been a small victory.

Since then you had teased Spencer about the interaction. He had obviously talked about how teasing was your way of deflecting talking about your jealousy, but whatever.

“Alicia is going to be your villain origin story. I can feel it.”

“You’re damn right.”

“I know.”

“Right. You need to tone that ego down before I see you.” You joked, causing him to laugh back.

“Okay but seriously, do you want me to come up? I look like a serial killer waiting to pounce down here.”

You stood up from your chair and moved over to the window. It only opened a smidge, but it was enough to see Spencer standing four floors below. You gave him a big smile and a small wave, which he returned.

“You kind of do look like a serial killer. Why are you dressed all in black?” You asked whilst still looking at him from the window.

“Y/N!” He whisper-shouted your name. 

“Okay I’m coming.” You shut your window and picked up your flat keys, “Just don’t murder anyone whilst I come and get you.” 

“I swear to…”

Before he could finish you hung up on him.

[carmelves]

I feel like Sylus would be the perfect partner for someone with a million hobbies

You want to learn archery? Good, you can never be proficient in too many weapons. He has a couple of different bows lying around in his armories, pick out the one you like best

Ballroom dancing? Buckle up, because he's coming with you and he's taking it seriously. The two of you will be dancing circles around everyone else in your class. (You might have to lead though, because he can’t stay on beat to save his life)

Piano? A keyboard is already on the way to your apartment, and he's hired the best tutor money can buy. He's also gotten a piano for his place, just in case you want to practice while you’re staying over. (Spoilers: you never manage to practice much at his place. It always seems to end with you bent over the piano… Good thing he bought a sturdy model)

Oh, you want to try boxing? Here’s a meticulously planned training regime for you to follow, including warmups, stretching, and rest days. He’ll be doing the teaching himself: only the best for you, after all.

Traveling? We already know he enjoys travel and does so often, so wherever you want to go, he’ll be right there with you. He’s happy to sit back and let you do the planning, enjoying how enthusiastic you are about researching destinations and drawing up timetables, but if you want to just enjoy some relaxation he’ll handle all the details, don’t you worry about a thing.

You want to… raise sheep? Sure, why not. He has a property out in the country he doesn’t use often, might as well turn it into something useful. Get as many sheep as you want. Some ducks too, while you’re at it, since you can’t stop talking about how cute they are. Hell, you might as well turn it into a whole farm. Don’t worry about taking care of it when you’re busy: he’ll find someone trustworthy to do the hard stuff. (and he’ll absolutely wear the first sweater you knit from your handspun yarn. Stop saying it’s lumpy, it’s cozy. Perfect to wear while cuddling with you.)

[creatur3featur3]

Street Rat p2

word count: 3.6k (WOO ON A ROLL LOVES!!)

A/N: DEFINITELY out of my writers block! only took about, 3 hours? usually takes me like a full day when i'm unmotivated but here we are!

----Enjoy Loves----

Okay so maybe you were following Sevika around for weeks on end now, but it wasn't exactly your fault- it was hers.

All that being nice and giving you food, or just being human and providing for someone who obviously couldn't take care of herself properly. She had been dying to get you off her tail with you following her like a stray dog constantly, you were ruining her reputation with your weird attachment to her. 

The regulars she played cards with gave you weird glances but she always seemed to scare them off from bothering you when you were digging around in people's dumped junk with a stern gaze. You definitely seemed to live up to your name of a street rat with your constant wandering off to find someone that shined under the dim lights of the Undercity’s lamp posts, she had even gotten you a small bag as well which had honestly surprised you.

You scoffed when she threw it to you, “Are you serious? I don't need this shit.” you spat sharply, god she wished she could rip that  sharp tongue out of yours out of your mouth. She set down her cup, whatever liquid she was drinking sloushing out.

“You think I don't see you storing your little trinkets out in dumped boxes? You're pathetic, the amount of times I've seen people swipe from your little stashes is ridiculous.” Your brow furrows at her words, you're not pathetic, you're smart, hell- brilliant even! “WELL, Miss.im so smart, i'll have you know I have many stashes around the city,”

“and how many of them stay full?”

you pause.

“...like.. three maybe…” you admit with a pout, “Then take the bag” she says sternly.

You grumble as you snatch the bag off the table, examining it with cold eyes but muttering a quiet “thank you” under your breath- then you're gone.

You choose not to stick around her during the day, too many eyes, you stay on the outskirts of the city- just like today. 

you squirm up the broken fire escape, trying your best to host yourself up with- little success. You hate to admit that Sevika’s ‘gift’ was actually pretty helpful, much more storage for cogs and other useful stuff- only downside is that you put way too much stuff in it.

“come on!-" You hiss under your breath as you hang onto the railing, trying to throw the bag up onto the floor of the fire escape so you can get yourself up. Such you were fit, your worked out a good amount, but.. your weren't exactly sure what to really work out.

The bag thudded onto the rusty fire escape with a loud clang, the sound echoing down the alleyway below. You winced, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had heard. The last thing you needed was some nosy thug poking around while you were mid-scramble.  

"Stupid bag," you muttered, wiping sweat off your brow. The thing had been helpful, sure, but damn if it wasn’t heavier than you thought it would be with all the “essentials” you’d crammed into it.  

With a deep breath, you grabbed the edge of the fire escape again, gritting your teeth as you hoisted yourself up. Your muscles strained against the weight of your own body, your arms trembling as you kicked your legs to get some momentum. “Okay... almost there...”  

Finally, with a groan, you managed to drag yourself up, collapsing onto the cold metal floor with a loud huff. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the dim, flickering lights of the Undercity’s skyline, panting like you’d just run a marathon.  

“Maybe I should’ve worked out more…” you mumbled, glaring at the bag now sitting innocently beside you.  

The memory of Sevika tossing it to you came to mind, her cold, stern gaze practically daring you to argue with her. She hadn’t been wrong about your stashes getting raided—half of them were basically public property at this point—but still, you’d never admit she had a point. That’d be giving her too much satisfaction.  

As much as you hated to admit it, the bag was starting to feel like a lifeline. Not just because it kept your things safe, but because... well, it was from her.  

You sighed, sitting up and brushing your hands off on your pants. “Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, swinging the bag over your shoulder again. “It’s just a stupid bag. Doesn’t mean anything.”  

As you climb further up the ladders you find yourself at what you call, home. The climb had left your muscles burning, but as you finally pulled yourself up to the top platform, a sense of relief washed over you. This was your little corner of the world, tucked high above the chaos of the Undercity, where few dared to tread.

"Home sweet home," you muttered, glancing at the haphazard setup before you.

The patchwork of old carpets and threadbare blankets was hardly luxurious, and the wooden crates stacked into a leaning structure could barely be called stable. Still, it had its charm—if only because it was yours. 

You ducked under the slanted “roof” of your makeshift tent, the faint smell of oil and dust filling your nose as you tossed the bag onto the ground with a loud thud. Sliding down onto the pile of blankets you called a bed, you let out a long, drawn-out exhale, the tension in your shoulders finally releasing.  

After a few moments, you sat up, rolling your sleeves as you reached for the bag. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got this time,” you murmured to yourself, the habit of talking aloud in your solitude one you never quite managed to break.  

One by one, you started pulling items from the bag: cogs, rusted bolts, wires tangled like a bird’s nest, a couple of scraps of metal that might be useful if you ever found a decent buyer. You laid them out in neat rows, sorting them with a critical eye.  

“Junk, maybe useful, definitely junk, hmm… potential,” you muttered, setting aside a few pieces you deemed worth keeping.  

Every so often, you paused to examine an item more closely, holding it up to the dim light filtering through the cracks of your tent. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you found a small, intact gear with its teeth still sharp. “Hah, not bad,” you said to no one, setting it aside with a sense of triumph.  

This was your ritual, your little piece of order in an otherwise chaotic world. Sorting through the refuse of the Undercity, finding bits and pieces that others had discarded without a second thought—it wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. 

Your contented sorting came to an abrupt halt as the distant noise filtered up through the layers of steel and grime below. First, it was the sharp crack of something breaking—glass, maybe, or a chair being hurled against a wall. Then came the muffled yelling, too distorted by the distance to make out the words.  

You froze, your fingers hovering over a twisted wire. It wasn’t unusual to hear fights in the Undercity; hell, it was practically the soundtrack of the place. But this time was different.  

This time, you recognized the low, gravelly tone of one of the voices. Sevika.  

Your stomach twisted as you strained to listen, hoping you’d misheard. But there it was again—her voice, cutting through the chaos with a sharp bark of anger.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to your feet. For a moment, you hesitated, torn between staying put in the safety of your little hideout and the nagging pull of curiosity—and maybe worry—that pushed you toward the ladder.  

Another crash, louder this time, made the decision for you. You grabbed the strap of your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you moved toward the edge of the platform. Your heart pounded as you carefully climbed down, your usual annoyance at the shaky fire escape forgotten in your rush.  

By the time you reached the lower levels, the noise had grown louder, more distinct. You crept closer, ducking behind a stack of crates as you peered around the corner.  

There she was, Sevika, in the middle of a small brawl. Three guys, maybe more, circled her like vultures, but she looked as unfazed as ever, her mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light as she sent one of them flying with a single swing.  

Your first instinct was to turn back, let her handle it. She was Sevika, after all; she didn’t need help. But as another thug lunged at her with a broken pipe, something in you snapped.  

“Damn it,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the crate as you tried to come up with a plan. Or maybe you’d just jump in and wing it. Either way, you weren’t about to leave her hanging.

Though your- stupidity gets the best of you as you reach for a broken glass of whatever and throw it at one of the men, hitting his head

The moment the glass shattered against the man’s head, you felt a rush of pride. Bullseye. But that fleeting sense of accomplishment was quickly replaced with a cold, sinking feeling as the three men turned toward you, their expressions darkening like storm clouds.  

He wiped a hand over his face, now dripping with blood from a jagged cut the glass had left, his glare locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’ve got a death wish, kid,” he growled, taking a menacing step forward.  

“Oh, crap,” you muttered, your bravado evaporating in an instant.  

Without another thought, you turned on your heel and bolted, your heart pounding in your ears as your boots slapped against the slick pavement. Behind you, the sound of shouts and heavy footsteps echoed as the men gave chase.  

“Stupid stupid stupid!!” you hissed to yourself, dodging around a stack of broken crates. This wasn’t exactly the first time your mouth—or in this case, your impulse to throw things—had gotten you into trouble, but this? This was a new level of stupid.  

You ducked into a narrow alley, squeezing through the gap between two rusted pipes as the men shouted behind you. Your pulse was racing, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you scanned the area for an escape route.  

Up ahead, you spotted a ladder leading to one of the upper platforms, the kind you’d climbed a hundred times before. “Come on, come on,” you whispered, practically leaping toward it.  

As you grabbed the rungs and started to climb, one of the men reached the base of the ladder, cursing loudly. He jumped, his fingers grazing your ankle, but you kicked out with a frantic yell, forcing him to let go.  

“Keep running, street rat!” one of them yelled.  

“Oh, I plan to!” you shouted back, your voice dripping with sarcasm despite the panic clawing at your chest.  

You scrambled onto the platform above, your legs burning and your breath coming in ragged gasps. From this vantage point, you could see Sevika below, taking advantage of your little distraction you created. For a split second, you thought about doubling back to help her, but another shout from below reminded you of your own predicament.  

"She better appreciate this," you muttered bitterly as you darted off into the shadows, praying you could lose your pursuers before they decided to make good on their threats. 

–

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Sevika snarled as you sat next to her at the little market you had come to know for your routine feeding, “those guys could've and would've killed you!” She hissed.

“I was helping!” you grumble, “Helping doesn't mean almost getting yourself killed!” Sevika shot right back.

“You should've been able to take those guys easily, they were so much smaller than you!”

“I had it.”

“Didn't seem like it Toolbox.”

“Stop calling me that,”

“Toolbox.”

“Street Rat.”

“Mines cooler anyways.” you hum, Sevika scoffs with a shake of her head, “You fucking wish.”

“Well,” you start, shoving the fruit you had stuffed in your bag into your mouth, biting into it sharply, the juices running down your chin- “I deserve a thank you.”

“You are not getting a thank you for making me worry,” Sevika spat, “awww, so you do care!” you hum sarcastically, “oh, my heart might just explode with joy!”

Sevika rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t pop out of her skull. “Don’t flatter yourself Rat. I care because you’re a liability. If you go and get yourself killed, that’s just one more mess I have to deal with.”  

You snorted, chewing noisily on your fruit. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Sevvy.”  

Her glare could have melted steel. “Call me that again and see what happens.”  

“Sevvy.” You said it sweetly, almost a purr, batting your lashes for extra effect.  

The mechanical fingers of her arm clenched with a faint hiss, and you couldn’t help but grin, even as she loomed closer, her presence casting a shadow over you. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she growled, voice low and dangerous.  

“And brains,” you added smugly, leaning back as if her looming didn’t faze you. “I mean, I did save your ass, remember?”  

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “If by ‘save’ you mean ‘made my life infinitely harder,’ then yeah. Thanks for that.”  

You bit into your fruit again, savoring its sweetness as you shrugged. “Same difference. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”  

“I’d sleep better, that’s for sure.”  

“Awww, Sev, you’re so sweet,” you teased, wiping juice off your chin with your sleeve. “No wonder people love you so much.”  

Her lips twitched, like she was fighting back a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re useful sometimes, Street Rat. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you into the gutter by now.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, grinning despite her insult. “Admit it, Sevika. You like having me around.”  

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she turned her attention back to her drink. You took that as a win, leaning back against the table with a satisfied smirk.

“So,” You hum as you throw the finished fruit onto the street, “Where we going now?”

Sevika stood up, pushing in her chair and throwing her cloak over her mechanical arm “I'm, going home.”

You frowned, tilting your head like a confused pup. “Home? What about me?”  

Sevika glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. “What about you?”  

You scoffed, standing up and brushing the crumbs off your clothes. “I thought we were a team now.”  

She barked a laugh, the kind that was more mocking than amused. “Team? Don’t flatter yourself, Toolbox. You’re just a stray I can’t seem to shake off.”  

You put your hands on your hips, leaning forward as you shot her a challenging glare. “Stray or not, you’d be bored without me, and you know it.”  

“Bored?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her cloak. “More like finally at peace.”  

“Sure, Sev, keep telling yourself that,” you quipped, falling into step beside her despite her best efforts to stride ahead.  

She stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a sharp glare. “What do you want, huh? A place to crash? A warm meal? Or do you just like annoying me?”  

You grinned, not missing a beat. “Little bit of all three, honestly.”  

She exhaled sharply, clearly trying to rein in her irritation. “You’re impossible.”  

“And yet, here we are,” you said with a cheeky shrug.  

For a moment, Sevika just stared at you, her jaw tightening as if she were debating whether to knock you out or just walk away. Finally, she shook her head, muttering something about bad decisions as she turned back toward the street.  

“Fine,” she said gruffly, not bothering to look back at you. “Follow me. But don’t think for a second this means I like you.”  

Your grin widened as you fell into step behind her. “Of course not, Sevvy. This is purely professional.”  

“Call me that again, and you’re sleeping in the gutter.”  

“Love you too,” you teased, earning a sharp growl from her as the two of you disappeared into the crowded streets of the Undercity.

God she hated you.

As you follow her not too far behind she doesn't look back- until she hears a loud CLUNK.

She looked back to see you diving into a dumpster, your legs propelling yourself further into it.

Sevika stopped dead in her tracks, her mechanical arm twitching slightly as she turned to stare at you, her expression an unreadable mix of irritation and disbelief.  

“What the hell are you doing now?” she called out, her voice carrying that sharp edge of exasperation she reserved just for you.  

Your legs flailed for a moment, kicking at the air as you wormed your way further into the dumpster. “I saw something shiny!” you shouted back, your voice muffled by the metal container.  

Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Shiny? Are you a crow now?”  

“Shut up, it might be important!” you countered, your voice ringing with mock indignation.  

The dumpster rattled as you rummaged around, the sound grating on Sevika’s nerves. She glanced around, noting the amused—or horrified—looks from a few passersby. She sighed deeply, her patience wearing thin.  

“You know,” she said, her tone flat as she leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed, “there’s a fine line between being resourceful and being a complete idiot. Guess which side you’re on.”  

You didn’t respond immediately, too engrossed in whatever treasure you were hunting. A moment later, you popped your head out of the dumpster, holding up a slightly dented but intact pocket watch. “See? Totally worth it!” you declared, grinning triumphantly.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A broken watch?”  

“It’s vintage!” you argued, shaking the watch for emphasis.  

“Yeah, sure. Vintage trash,” she shot back, turning on her heel. “Let’s go, before someone mistakes you for actual garbage.”  

You hopped out of the dumpster, brushing off your clothes as you jogged to catch up with her. “You’re just mad you didn’t see it first,” you teased, tucking the watch into your bag.  

She didn’t respond, but you swore you saw her roll her eyes as she picked up her pace, trying her best to ignore you.

But your voice was grating, the way you chatted away about god knows what, trying to take apart the watch as you walked, proving to Sevika by the brand name on the inside of the watch that it was definitely worth something.

“See? I told you, I know what's useless or, worthy!” You hum happily.

you were definitely a lot different from when Sevika first saw you, when you were a lot more sharp and,I guess hateful. Now here you are, talking her ear off about some history behind the watch.

Cute.

Sevika shook her head firmly, no, absolutely not, you were not cute or anything like that, you were a dingy kid from the streets, probably not even 26, you had your whole life ahead of you.

Sevika’s gaze flickered over to you as you babbled on about the intricate history behind the watch, your hands working quickly to twist and turn its parts, barely looking up as you walked beside her.  

“Mm-hmm, sure, sure,” she muttered, her focus on the path ahead, though her mind was starting to wander despite herself. You were relentless, a flurry of words and energy that kept bouncing from one topic to the next, your excitement practically buzzing through the air. It was almost impossible not to listen to you, even if she didn’t want to.  

But cute? No.  

You were just some kid, a street rat, sure, but not in a pathetic sense anymore. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Maybe it was how you had this endless drive to find the value in everything, even when it was so easy for someone like her to overlook. Or how your once sharp edges seemed to have softened over time, the constant biting sarcasm now replaced with, well, an actual willingness to communicate, to engage.  

God, what the hell was wrong with her?

She tried shaking it off, focusing on the weight of her boots as they hit the cracked pavement. She was not about to get all sentimental or soft. That would be a mistake.  

“I’m serious, Sevika,” you continued, eyes sparkling as you looked up at her, “I could sell this for a few cogs. It’s pretty rare, maybe even more than that if I find the right buyer!”  

She made a noncommittal sound in her throat, but inside, something shifted just a bit. You really are something else, she thought.  

Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to put some distance between herself and you before she made a mistake, but here she was, still walking beside you, letting you prattle on and on.  

“Yeah, whatever, just don’t go blowing it on something stupid,” she muttered, though there was a flicker of something in her voice that she quickly smothered.  

You gave her a sidelong glance, not missing the subtle change. “You really do care, huh?”  

She didn’t answer, instead pushing her shoulders back and picking up the pace, determined to ignore the way her heart seemed to tighten. She could still feel the eyes of the people around you—at least, that’s what she told herself.  

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just about saving you from getting yourself killed anymore. Maybe... she was just stuck with you, whether she liked it or not.  

“Keep dreaming, kid,” she said gruffly, her voice betraying none of the warmth creeping up her spine.  

“Aw, you're soft, Sev," you teased, and she felt her chest tighten even more.  

"Shut up, Streetie," she snapped, the words coming out far too fondly for her liking.  

“Streetie? that's a new one,” you giggle slightly, seeming to notice before you cleared your throat.

(turned it into a series :) p3 is out now!)

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Romance Era Octavinelle

|| Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore + Ignihyde || Diasomnia ||

It started off as a normal afternoon. You and your boyfriend just laid down for an impromptu nap, cuddled close together and safe in each other's arms. So you can imagine their surprise when they wake up to find the bed spotted with blood. Pulling the blankets back, they see the blood coming from you...

FIRST REACTION

Azul

Woke up confused. Couldn't find out what he was smelling that was distressing him so much. Then he realized he was smelling blood, and then he realized the blood was coming from YOU.

Woke you up softly panicking, telling you that you had to get up and come with him to the infirmary.

The cramps kick in while he's trying to get you up and OW. It only makes him start panicking more.

He's on the phone with the Tweels when you manage to wake up enough to tell Azul everything is fine. He does NOT believe you and tells the twins that you're suffering blood loss.

By the time the Tweels showed up, you've started explaining to Azul what a period is and he is HORRIFIED.

Jade

Snapped awake the second you bled through your bottoms. Bro was dreaming of the woods and then suddenly he's in red waters.

Woke you up because he was trying to figure out where you were bleeding from. Poor eel is trying to check for a stab wound and is just confused about the location the blood seems to be coming from.

You better savor this, Jade is only going to be flustered and openly concerned until you manage to explain to him what a period is.

Because once you do tell him he is FASCINATED. Big ole smile while he starts to massage your back and asking you to tell him more.

He will be running experiments, best of luck to you.

Floyd

Woke you up by flipping you. Just full-on gripped you by the hips and yanked. Boy woke up smelling blood and pinpointed where it was coming from in two nanoseconds.

Because of the blood, he woke up fucked up, now he's pissed you're bleeding. Not sure if he's more pissed about the fact he doesn't know why you're bleeding or that someone potentially came in to hurt you, and they got past him.

Either way, you got a grumpy clingy eel wrapping around your whole body.

Once you fully wake up and realize what's happening, explain it to him. It'll take a few tries but then he tells you that's a horrible idea and you shouldn't do it. Bloods suppose to stay inside, shrimpy...

Immediately tried to squeeze the period out of you.

HOW HELPFUL ARE THEY?

Azul

You've never met a man more terrified yet supportive in your life.

He refuses to get too close to you and will send the tweels to deliver any gift or food he has for you. That octo breeding practice of females killing males that annoy them during mating season is screaming at him. It's for his own peace of mind he stays away.

While he won't get too close, he is literally pampering you from a distance. You get a daily delivery of luxury pillows, gourmet chocolates, scent oils, bath bombs, and high-quality heated blankets. He's got the tweels making your every meal if he isn't the one doing it.

Please text and call him on the phone though. While he's terrified of being close to you, he misses you so fucking much and he wishes he could get over his irrational fear of being eaten by you.

If you have PMS, he is SHAKING. He's fighting for his damn life just to keep you from being pissed at him. Another 'Agrees with you to save his life' kinda man.

Jade

Hm, you don't wanna eat this suspicious mushroom that's been chopped into your food? Are you sure? Just try a bite, you might like it.

Jade is supportive, but he's also JADE. Two parts a loving partner, one part the most annoying piece of shit this side of the coastline.

He's been trying since day one to get you to eat mushrooms with paralyzing and hallucinogenic properties under the guise 'They'll be helpful'. While feeling completely numb for hours on end WOULD help the cramps, you're not too sure how tripping balls is gonna do you any favors.

Teasing butler style, he temporarily moved into Ramshackle. He will fluff up your pillows, handle the blood-stained laundry, and he will even make you a nonmushroom-filled dinner.

If you cry at ALL during your period he will be stunned lock before jumping into comforting you. He can smell the hormonal difference and so he knows you're a lot more sensitive then normal about his teasing. Lowkey kinda likes it, treats it like a game on what the limit for that day is.

Floyd

This motherfucker might as well be PMSing along with you. Are you sad? Ok then, he's sad now, too; what's the matter, Shrimpy? Happy? Cool! He's in a pretty good mood, too! Pissed off? Well, now he's gotta break somebody's bones. Who are we mad at?

Emotionally, he is on the same vibe as you, and to some it can be ANNOYING, but others find it so nice to have someone to have the same feelings with you in that moment.

The goal of the week is to keep Shrimpy happy. He's getting you snacks, little gifts, lots of cuddling. While he's mad, he can't physically squeeze your period out, the pressure and folding you up during a squeeze does helps the pain.

One of the few boys who really notices the bloating. Loves how you got squishier. While cold isn't as effective, it can still help ease period pains. Enjoy being held in bed lovely like a soft pretzel while cold hands are pressed right on your lower stomach.

Does his best to seriously support and help you, but is kind of a hardass and gets just as pissy as you do.

AFTER THE FACT

Azul

He survived but at the cost of knowing this was going to happen again...Well, time to prepapre to be the best lover by next month or so HELP HIM-

For how terrified he's been the past week, he starts that GRIND to better understand your period and starts tracking it.

Takes your period as this grand research challenge since periods don't exist in Twist, the only source he has is you and the period itself. It's a race against the clock to gain info on how to better tend to you.

Please just let him hold and kiss you for a few hours too. Being away from you for days on end was not enjoyable. He's also gonna work on his irrational fear of you killing him so that he KISS HIS DAMN DATEMATE.

Has your next period marked down on his personal calendar. But if you're early or late he'll start acting cagey again. He will trick Floyd into asking if you're on your period or getting jade to mind trick it out of you.

Jade

Well, that was terrible, worst week of his life so far, honestly. Hm? Was your period that bad? Now, why do you think he was talking about your period?

Asks coy about the whole event for no reason other than the fact you're concerned about how he feels and managed through the whole thing.

With his smelling skills, he's made way more aware of the various hormonal changes you do over the course of the month leading up to the next period.

So, sorry, but be prepared for little stress tests CONSTANTLY. You made the mistake of telling Jade that a period can change on multiple factors like diet and stress.

He'll do the stress tests but if you really truly hate it he will become sneakier stop doing them as much. He really does want to understand better. Both for his own thirst to understand how you tick and to help out more for the next period.

Floyd

That sucked, but it's over right? You don't need to do it again?...What do you mean it's a monthly thing?

Your period was a really weird time that he's already forgotten like the day after it's over. It was lowkey just another week to him, only he got to be around his shrimpy as an emotional support eel so that was great!

Didn't really do anything to prepare for the next one. He managed to get through the period just fine and was lowkey pretty great at it. He does make the smallest mental note of the stuff he cooked for you that you really liked. He starts experimenting with the recipes and trying to make them even tastier. Just for his shrimpy.

With the super eel-smelling, he does notice the difference in your hormones more now that he's aware of it. He will start sniffing at you whenever you change cycles, he tells you that you ovulating smells like you're in heat.

Constantly forgets about your period until it happens again.

HOW HELPFUL ARE THEY? ♡NSFW♡

Azul

Trying to get Azul to fuck was already a mental battle. The fact he's biologically wired to be very cautious during sex because his partner might kill him? You're gonna have to ask the Tweels to catch him, because you're not.

You gotta debate your ass off just to get him to sit next to you. but once you're able to get him talking, your only choice is to do a contract where you PROMISE you're not going to kill him mid-sex because you got annoyed or hungry.

Once the contract is in place, he's much more willing to help out. Takes it as a challenge honestly. Works to make you cum so hard you pass out (only then will he be safe).

If you're REALLY LUCKY, he'll get into one of the big tubs Octavinelle has to change into his merform. Being much bigger than you really helps his anxiety and fear with the whole act. Plus, his tentacles are...very helpful.

Jade

Remember when I said there were only four people I canon as sucking the period out of you? That was a lie, there are six.

Letting it slip that orgasms help with the cramps was honestly one of the worst things you could have done. He already fucks you like it's torture, winding you up for hours on end before letting you cum only to do it all over again.

Once he knows, he orchestrates you not being able to take any pain relief so that you have to ask him to help. This is for you of course, but it's mostly so he can get a taste.

He's going to tease you the whole time; lots of fingering, massaging, and licking. Your thighs are gonna be raw from all the bites he's giving you while he's down there.

Floyd

Number three on the 'Who'd Suck the Period Out of You' group. Does it with ease, does it with your legs wrapped around his head. Squeeze them harder Shrimpy, he can still breathe, you're terrible at this.

Fucking Floyd is already a dangerous game, you wanna add blood to it??? You're stronger than I am. He's already a wild card in the bed, introducing blood to the mix only ups the possibility of him going insane with his dick inside you.

Another that's about to bite you the fuck up. God speed soldier...

[moonferry]

OKAY here's part 2 of the "how the stardew marriageables would feel to hug" once again will be in alphabetical order !!

bachelorette version HERE

the bachelors (and krobus)

alex: alex loves working out and is obviously very strong. with this in mind, i think he'd be another person who accidentally hugged far tighter than he meant to. his hugs feel like sitting in a reclining chair - like one of the demo ones at a furniture shop. despite how tight he hugs you, you find yourself relaxing into him. plus, i just think it would be nice to bury your face in his chest, alex gently rubbing the back of your head and you telling him about your day. i think alex would smell like leather and maybe musky cologne. a bit more overpowering than the rest (his smell literally latches onto you, your clothing, or even the air around you.) it's not a bad scent tho, just very "masculine" in a way?

elliott: elliott's hugs are lovely! i imagine he has the softest hugs of all the marriageables (likely do to the copious amounts of skincare products/lotions he purchases, but that's just an added bonus.) hugging elliott would feel similar to hugging a silk pillowcase: nice, soft/gentle, and an overall enjoyable experience. elliott's hugs are the perfect "i just want a simple hug right now" kind. i imagine he'd enjoy wrapping his arms around your waist and complimenting you as the two of you hugged. elliott probably smells like an inkwell, with some pomegranate and maybe some ginger (and the ocean, of course!) very light and fruity (honestly you might steal his cologne a time or two.)

harvey: the man who brought this entire spiel to life.. harvey definitely gives the best hugs. his hugs feel like being wrapped in a comforting blanket or feeling the wind gently blow across your face as you sit outside and watch the sun set. i've mentioned this before, but i think harvey loves back hugs. something about having his arms wrapped around you, drawing small shapes on your stomach, and gently kissing your cheek just draws him in. i imagine harvey smells like coffee, a warm chocolate cake, some sandalwood and fresh pine. his hugs are perfect for when you both need to unwind after a stressful day. something about them (maybe it's his doctorly aura) makes your body feel calmed, like it's being healed in a way. legend says that harvey's hugs tend to have healing properties so 👀

krobus: he doesn't exactly have arms, so hugging you back isn't an option. at least not physically, that is. he somehow manages to transmit the feeling of hugging you into your mind and it causes your skin to tingle. however, if you were to actually hug krobus, i imagine it would feel similar to hugging a stuffed animal or a mystical cat. i imagine krobus would be very soft (possibly fluffy!) and his little wisp at the top of his head would rest against your shoulder. as for smells, krobus is a bit difficult. (obviously, coming from a life in the sewers, it's not going to be the greatest thing to smell) HOWEVER i imagine he would smell like black cherry or the "black ice" car air freshener.

sam: oh sam gives amazing hugs. unlike alex, sam crushes you on purpose. he's just very excited and full of love - he needs to share it by squeezing you until you pop! (not literally, of course). i think it's primarily a case of "cuteness aggression" where he just gets so overwhelmed with positive emotions from seeing you that he has to let them out by hugging you tight enough to crack a rib. you don't mind though, and even joke that he could take up practice as a chiropractor because, after hugging him, your spine always seems to become board straight. i imagine sam smells like strawberries, soda, and the beach, maybe a slight hint of desert mist. i like to imagine he also uses his height to an advantage and often picks you up when he hugs you, probably spinning you around as well.

sebastian: another one who i don't think is much of a hugger, especially if he doesn't know you that well. if he does warm up to you, though, he prefers side hugs or he prefers to be the one being hugged, not the other way around. full contact hugs always result in awkwardness and he'd rather avoid that. his hugs are a bit "colder" in a way and usually are finished within a few seconds. it's not that he doesn't like you, he just isn't a big fan of physical touch. however, if you decide to hug him, he will happily lean against you for as long as you want him to. if you drape your arm around his waist and let him lean into your side, his head on your shoulder, he may end up falling asleep. (yoba knows he needs it...) i think sebastian would smell like the outdoors: like a smokey campfire, like peaches, like the crisp, fall air, and faintly like motor oil.

shane: oh another amazing hugger. shane's hugs are very pillowy and sweet, also slightly addictive. it's very easy to sink into him and enjoy the moment. on the other hand, i feel like shane also enjoys being hugged. he loves having your arms around him, your head resting against his chest or shoulder (or in between his shoulder blades if you're back hugging him, this one's a real favorite). bonus points if you trace shapes onto his stomach or lower back, he goes crazy for that sort of thing. (but he'll never admit it, obviously). i like to imagine shane smells like cherry cola, maybe something outdoorsy or something light (ie body wash or soap). i don't think he would go out of his way to make himself a certain way. however, i do think it's hilarious that he has that line of dialogue where he's like ""Sniff*... *sniff*... mmm... what's that wonderful fragrance you're wearing? Eau de pepperoni?”" <- goober.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Hierarchy of Needs

Abraham Maslow’s (1943) hierarchy of human needs has profoundly influenced the behavioral sciences, becoming a seminal concept in understanding human motivation.

The original pyramid comprises 5 levels:

Physiological needs: Basic requirements for survival, such as food, water, shelter, and sleep

Safety needs: Security of body, employment, resources, morality, the family, health, and property

Love and belonging needs: Friendship, family, intimacy, and a sense of connection

Esteem needs: Respect, self-esteem, status, recognition, strength, and freedom

Self-Actualization: The desire to become the best that one can be

Maslow posited that our motivations arise from inherent and universal human traits, a perspective that predated and anticipated evolutionary theories in biology and psychology (Crawford & Krebs, 2008; Dunbar & Barrett, 2007).

Maslow developed his theory during the Second World War, a time of global upheaval and change, when the world was grappling with immense loss, trauma, and transformation. This context influenced Maslow’s emphasis on the individual’s potential for growth, peace, and fulfillment beyond mere survival.

It is noteworthy that Maslow did not actually create the iconic pyramid that is frequently associated with his hierarchy of needs. Researchers believe it was popularized instead by psychologist Charles McDermid, who was inspired by step-shaped model designed by management theorist Keith Davis (Kaufman, 2019).

Over the years, Maslow (1970) made revisions to his initial theory, mentioning that 3 more levels could be added:

cognitive needs,

aesthetic needs, and

transcendence needs (e.g., mystical, aesthetic, sexual experiences, etc.).

Criticisms of the Hierarchy of Needs

Criticism of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has been a subject of ongoing discussion, with several key limitations identified by scholars and practitioners alike. Understanding these critiques and integrating responses to them is vital for therapists aiming to apply the hierarchy in a modernized way in their practice.

Needs are Dynamic

Critics argue that the original hierarchy does not offer an accurate depiction of human motivation as dynamic and continuously influenced by the interplay between our inner drives and the external world (Freund & Lous, 2012).

While Maslow’s early work suggested that one must fulfill lower levels in order to reach ultimate self-actualization, we now know human needs are not always clearly linear nor hierarchical.

People might experience and pursue multiple needs simultaneously or in a different order than the hierarchy suggests. After all, personal motives and environmental factors constantly interact, shaping how individuals respond to their surroundings based on their past experiences.

Cultural Bias

One of the primary criticisms is the cultural bias inherent in Maslow’s original model. While many human needs can be shared among cultures, different cultures may prioritize certain needs or goals over others (Tay & Diener, 2011).

It’s often argued that Maslow’s emphasis on self-actualization reflects a distinctly Western, individualistic perspective, which may not resonate with or accurately represent the motivational structures in more collectivist societies where community and social connectedness are prioritized.

Empirical Grounding

The hierarchy has also faced scrutiny for its lack of empirical grounding, with some suggesting that there isn’t sufficient research to support the strict ordering of needs (Kenrick et al., 2010).

In practice, this limitation can be addressed by viewing the hierarchy as a descriptive framework rather than a prescriptive one.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

the bodyguard | part 1

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Famous!reader AU

After joining Maverick's security team once he left the navy, Rooster had become the best bodyguard around. He never thought too hard about it, he'd go in, protect whoever he was assigned, and leave. The threat against his client never really went anywhere if he was on the job, and he always put it first. All until your assignment came along. Suddenly his biggest threat might not be the stalker watching your every move, but rather trying not to fall for the world's biggest pop star.

warnings: stalker, threats, anything else let me know

length: 3.7k

masterlist

Rooster sat in Maverick's office, his foot tapping away on the floor. He'd gotten the call to meet him an hour ago and had rushed straight over. Judging by Maverick's shaky voice on the phone, he had a feeling this assignment would be a good one. Although he knew he should be worried, he couldn't help but feel excited - maybe he'd be protecting someone important, like the president or the pope or something. 

Okay, that was a little farfetched, but hey, a guy could dream. 

After a few minutes, Maverick briskly walked in, "Sorry I'm late, kid." he grunted, sitting down behind his desk and running a hand over his face. Rooster hadn’t seen him this stressed in a while, even after that time Coyote had forgotten his gun at his last assignment.  

Maybe it was the president after all. 

"No problem." Rooster shrugged, "So, what's this about?" 

Maverick sighed and said nothing, instead sliding a file across his desk. 

When Rooster picked it up and flipped to the first page, he was greeted to a picture of you. It was from the cover of some magazine and you were smiling happily as you posed next to the headline. 

NEW ABLUM ANNOUNCEMENT? READ ALL ABOUT IT INSIDE. 

He recognized your face immediately, hell, who wouldn't? You were practically one of the biggest pop stars on the planet right now. 

"You know her?" Maverick asked. 

Rooster nodded slowly, his eyes still scanning over the photo. He'd heard some of your songs when he'd let his radio play in the car, and of course, he'd seen you on TV and social media, since you were pretty hard to miss. It seemed there was always news about you, but he couldn’t say he took much notice of it.  

Maverick sighed, "Her manager is an old friend of mine, he called me this morning. She's in danger... and it's not good." 

Rooster finally looked up to Maverick, "Danger? You can't be serious.” He snorted and chuckled to himself, “She's a celebrity, Mav." 

"A celebrity with a stalker." Maverick always got straight to the point when it came to assignments. It was one of the things Rooster liked about him. 

"A stalker?" Rooster repeated, his interest now piqued. 

Maverick nodded, "Apparently she's been receiving creepy fan mail for months, but no one thought anything of it. That was until... her house was broken into last night." 

Rooster's eyes narrowed slightly at that, and he felt his concern grow. "Is she alright?" 

Maverick shook his head, "Physically, she's fine, no reports of injury. However, the security footage from the surveillance cameras outside her property are missing, looks like they were tampered with." 

Rooster ran a hand through his hair, mulling over the facts that were being laid out in front of him, "And they haven't found the guy yet?" 

Maverick sighed, "No, that's why her manager is so freaked out. Her security team have been trying to piece together what happened, but nothing conclusive has come up yet. She’s also set on keeping all of this quiet from the media, which is stressful in itself." 

Rooster grunted in agreement, "Cant blame her for that. The media would have a field day with this if they found out." He leaned back in his chair, still holding the file, with a contemplative look on his face, "So, we need to get her some extra security." 

Maverick nodded slowly, his eyes studying Rooster. "Exactly. She needs someone close to her at all times. A bodyguard.” He paused. “Think you're up to it?" 

Rooster arched an eyebrow, "Me?" he asked, "Mav, this is a celebrity we're talking about. A big one. I don't wanna be some pop star's babysitter. I can help get all the security measures in place, make sure her house is more secure, but-" 

Maverick interrupted, "You're the best on the team for this, Rooster. You think ahead, you're focused, you're exactly what she needs." 

Although he appreciated the praise, which he wouldn’t deny was true, the thought of being around a spoiled popstar indefinitely was not something he liked the idea of. "You really don't think someone like... I don't know, Hangman, wouldn’t be better suited for a job like this?" 

Maverick scoffed, "I'm gonna pretend you didn't suggest that." he muttered.  

Rooster didn’t have to ask why, Hangman was a good bodyguard, a great one at times, but he was also reckless. The number of times he’d had an ass kicking from Maverick was off the charts. 

He sighed, taking a moment to think things over. His gaze wandered back down to the file and your photo.  

After a brief pause, he snapped the file shut and met Maverick's eyes. 

"Alright. I'll do it." 

— 

"Please don't argue with me on this."  

Iceman paced in front of where you lay casually on a sun bed in front of your pool. Your sunglasses blocked out the bright LA sun, and you flicked through some magazine detailing the latest celebrity gossip. You were barely reading it at this point, only wanting to see the parts that included you. Most of it was full of crap, but annoyingly, you loved to know what people were saying and thinking of you. 

Of course, right now it was also a great distraction. 

You rolled your eyes and sat up on the sun bed, placing the magazine on the floor next to you. "I don't want some ex-navy man following me around everywhere for the next who knows how long, Ice! I can handle this just fine by myself-" 

"No. You can't." Iceman replied sternly, stopping in front of you with his arms crossed, "Some psycho broke into your house! Do you even realize what could have happened? That he could have hurt you?" 

You looked away, suddenly feeling suffocated by the 'what-ifs' running through your mind. 

Iceman sighed and sat down on the end of the sun bed in front of you, his voice turning softer, "I know you're set on getting through this alone, and I know you, so I know there's no changing your mind about that." he chuckled lightly, "But it wouldn't hurt to have some extra protection. Plus, Mav's an old friend of mine, he wouldn't send someone he didn't think could do this right."  

He had a point, you knew that. Iceman always talked happily about his days at Top Gun, so it was clear whoever Maverick was sending was someone he trusted, maybe someone you could trust too. 

Not that you would make it easy. 

His eyes were pleading with you as he added, "Just trust me on this, okay? Do it for my peace of mind." 

That was really what got you to agree.  

Iceman had been your manager since you started out in the music industry, a young teenager with a big voice and loads of stupid dreams. Of course, they weren't stupid back then, and Ice had made most of them come true for you. Since you didn’t hear much from your dad at all, not after he’d set up home in Hawaii anyway, Iceman was way more like a father to you. If he felt better knowing that you had someone watching your back, then hell, you'd do it for him. 

You huffed and pushed your sunglasses up onto your head, "So, when does this bodyguard arrive?"

"He's flying out to LA as we speak." 

— 

The flight to Los Angeles seemed to zip by.  

Rooster sat in his seat with a faint sense of nerves. He'd never really been nervous for an assignment before, but then again, he'd also never had to protect a world-famous celebrity either.  

A world-famous celebrity with a stalker. Go figure.

He looked out of the window as the sprawling skyline of LA came into view, and his mind started to wander back to the picture in the file Maverick had showed him, the file that was still stuffed in his bag somewhere.  

You’d looked so happy on the cover of that magazine, so happy that it almost didn’t look real. Of course, he knew that most of the celebrity world was built on false publicity, that was why he stayed as far away from it as he could. 

Until now. 

After the plane touched down at LAX, Rooster made his way through the airport in a blur, preoccupied with the task ahead. His mind finally slowed down when he saw an older man in a suit and chauffeur’s cap waiting for him outside, holding up a piece of paper with his name neatly printed on the front. 

Rooster approached him and the man grinned, "Rooster?" he asked, holding up the sign. Rooster nodded and the man sighed in relief, "Thank goodness, I was worried I'd miss your plane. Parking here is not a walk in the park, let me tell you that." he chuckled and held out his hand, "The name's Ben, I'm the personal driver, or chauffeur, if you wanna be fancy about it." 

Ben was an older man who had a wise look behind his eyes that reminded him a little of Maverick. Like he knew things that he decided to keep tucked away, ready to share only when the time was right. 

Rooster shook Ben's hand, appreciating his friendly personality, "Nice to meet you, Ben. Parking in LA is a pain in the ass. I don't think I ever want to drive in this city." 

Ben chuckled, "After 30 years, you get used to it. But luckily for you, you won't have to. Car's over this way."  

Rooster nodded and followed him towards a black SUV with blacked out windows to match. He thought they must have been to block out the paparazzi and he wondered how often you had to deal with things like that. 

He sat down in the passenger seat next to Ben as he began the drive. 

"So, how long have you been her driver?" Rooster asked, looking out the window at the city whizzing by. 

Ben glanced at him from behind the wheel, "Quite a few years now. She takes care of me, I gotta say. Keeps me on my toes, but its's never boring." he chuckled. 

Rooster couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted remark, "Sounds like you've got your hands full with her." 

Ben grinned, "You could say that. But honestly, she isn't as wild as the media likes to make out. She's got a good head on her shoulders and a good heart too, she's a fighter, a tough bird, that's for sure." 

Rooster thought back to the headlines he’d seen about you in passing. Rumors about who you were dating, if you wrote your own songs, if you’d ever settle down and get married, were followed by pictures of you out and having a good time, drink in hand, and harsh words about how you’d ‘taken it too far’. 

It seemed tiring. 

He nodded slowly, keeping his tone casual, "Seems like she's got a reputation, I mean, she's constantly in the spotlight." 

"Oh, for sure. She's definitely got the media attention thing down, but don't believe everything you hear. The media tends to exaggerate things or twist the truth a lot of the time. It's how they operate, unfortunately." Ben explained, "They'll do anything for a good story." 

Rooster couldn’t help but ask, "So, what's she really like? Behind all the fame and notoriety." 

A knowing smile played on Ben's lips, "When you get to know her, she's a real sweetheart. Good sense of humor, always down for a laugh, and when she sets her mind to something, she goes after it with everything she's got. She's headstrong, no doubt about it." 

Rooster absorbed Ben's words, feeling a slight sense of respect for you already as he turned his head to gaze back out of the window, "Sounds like a force to be reckoned with." he muttered to himself. 

— 

Eventually, the car turned off into a large neighborhood, where none of the houses were visible past the greenery that shrouded the paths leading to them. Ben drove down one of the paths that led to a gate, where there was an intercom hooked up to the wall. So far, your security was looking good to Rooster, which only made him wonder how your house was broken into in the first place. 

As the intercom buzzed and the gate opened, Ben drove through, following the path onto your driveway. Rooster’s eyes widened as he took in your home. In the middle of the driveway was a fountain with some fancy statue built into it, your house was surrounded by trees and bushes, and large steps led up to the front door.  

The house itself was huge, your typical celebrity home it seemed. Rooster didn’t even want to guess how many rooms it had. Its size and grandeur already took his breath away, "Damn, this is some house." 

Ben stopped the car by the front steps, "Sell as many records as she has, houses like this are nothing.” He climbed out of the car and walked around it to open Rooster's door. 

Rooster climbed out too, looking up at the steps that lead to the front door in awe. He was starting to feel way out of his league, the house like nothing he'd seen up close before. 

Before he could respond to Ben, the front doors opened, and a man jogged down the steps towards them, "You must be Rooster!" 

Rooster nodded, "That's me."  

The man stopped in front of him and smiled, "Mav said you'd grown, but I honestly didn't believe him." he held out his hand, "Tom Kazansky, but call me Iceman." 

Rooster's eyes flashed with recognition, "Iceman? You were a legend at Top Gun.” he grinned and shook his hand, “You used to fly with Mav, right?” 

Iceman chuckled, "That’s right. Flew with him and your father back in the day.” He paused a little awkwardly, “He was a good man."  

Rooster was slightly taken aback by the mention of his dad and he quickly cleared his throat and changed the subject, like he usually did anytime someone brought him up. "So, you're the manager?" 

"I am." Iceman glanced at Ben, "Thanks for picking him up, Ben, leave the suitcases on the drive, I'll get someone to grab them." he turned back to Rooster, "Follow me." 

Rooster looked back at Ben, who gave him a little thumbs up as he began to unload his suitcase from the trunk. He chuckled and waved, before following Iceman up the steps and into the mansion. 

Once inside, his eyes darted around the foyer, taking in every detail. Iceman turned to him, "So, I take it Maverick filled you in on the situation we have here." 

Rooster's expression grew more serious as he switched gears, "I've got the gist of it. Stalker, break-in, creepy letters." 

Iceman seemed to relax slightly at Rooster's words, a hint of relief in his eyes, "Good. I'm glad Mav was upfront with you. It's a serious issue, but we're doing everything we can to ensure her safety." 

"That's good to hear." Rooster nodded, "I take my assignments seriously. Her safety is my top priority." 

"Good." Iceman nodded back curtly, leading him through the house and gesturing to various rooms, "We've upped the security all over the place. Extra cameras, better locks, the works. We're not taking any chances." 

As they walked, Rooster's gaze occasionally drifted to some of the artwork and decor, taking everything in. It was fancy and probably expensive, but somehow the place still had a cozy feel to it. "All this extra security, and yet someone managed to get in here the other night?" he asked, skepticism in his voice. 

Iceman sighed, "That's the million-dollar question. We have no idea how they got past all our security measures. It's frustrating, to say the least." 

Rooster's eyes narrowed slightly, "No alarms, no signs of any forced entry?" 

"No." Iceman huffed, "Its like they just materialized out of thin air, it's been driving us all crazy." 

Rooster could sense the helplessness in Iceman's tone, and his jaw tightened a bit. The lack of clear answers didn't sit right with him either, and was already starting to feel impatient. "That's not good." he replied bluntly. 

"Believe me, it's not." Iceman sighed, "The police are working on it, but it's like hunting a ghost. We've never had it go this far before. I mean, sure, every celebrity gets weird fan mail now and again, but a break-in? And you know the weirdest part?" He paused, "He didn't touch her, didn't hurt her at all. Just left a note and some photos by her pillow-" 

"Photos?" Rooster frowned, Maverick hadn’t mentioned that. "Can I see them?" 

Iceman led him into the kitchen, where the photos were left scattered on the marble island in the middle. Rooster peered over at them, and felt tense as the situation seemed to get more complicated.  

They looked to be old family photos, from way before your career skyrocketed. One was of you as a kid, sat by a piano and grinning as you played, another looked like it was from Christmas, judging by the wrapping paper scattered around you and the Santa hat hanging off your pigtails. 

In all of them, you were young, and Rooster had a feeling that these couldn’t be easily accessible to the general public. That made his gut twist. 

Iceman seemed to see the confusion etched on Rooster's face, "See what I mean? This doesn't make sense." 

Light footsteps were heard from the hallway, and the two paused, turning towards the door to the kitchen. 

Rooster hadn't known what he was expecting, but whatever it was, you weren't it. You stood casually, leaning against the doorframe, wearing sweats and an oversized t-shirt, far from the glamorous pictures Maverick had given him in the file. Your hair was left free and flowing, and you looked slightly younger without all of the makeup he was used to seeing you in on TV or in magazines. Naturally, you were pretty, that much was obvious, and Rooster could barely take his eyes off you. 

You crossed your arms, "Am I interrupting something?" 

He quickly composed himself, straightening up as Iceman responded, "Of course not. I was just showing Rooster around a little bit. He's the new bodyguard we talked about, remember?" 

Your eyes shifted to Rooster with a hint of suspicion. He didn’t look much older than you, and seemed to be studying you with an intense curiosity. You nodded a little, "I remember." 

Rooster forced himself to remain calm and professional as he held out a hand, "Good to meet you." 

You glanced down at his hand and back to him, "You too." you muttered. You felt a little mean ignoring his clear attempt at being friendly, but you couldn’t find the will to care.  

Rooster frowned a little and pulled his hand back. You could feel Iceman’s stern stare, likely scolding you for not being polite, but you ignored it, keeping your eyes trained on Rooster.  

There's a momentary pause as the three of you stood in a tense silence. Iceman broke it with a half smile, "Rooster is the son of an old friend of mine, like I told you. He's one of the best." 

Your eyes drifted over Rooster once again, still cautious as you nodded a little, "That's good." 

Rooster couldn't help the flicker of annoyance that crossed his features at your dismissive attitude. He held your gaze with a cool, even stare. 

Iceman quickly broke the tension again, "I gotta get going, got some meetings and paperwork and such. You two good here?" 

Rooster nodded, his mind preoccupied, "We're good. Thanks Ice." 

"No problem." Iceman muttered, walking towards the doorway and stopping to lean down and whisper to you, "Please, try to be nice."  

You sighed and nodded, still not fully on board with having a bodyguard at all. It felt like you were being babied and your privacy totally invaded. You didn’t care if the tall, muscular, mustached man stood in front of you was the son of an old friend of Iceman’s, an ex-pilot, a Top Gun graduate; it didn’t matter. No matter how many good things Iceman tried to tell you, you were dead set on dealing with this stalker by yourself. 

That was what you were used to, after all. 

Iceman strode out of the room, leaving you and Rooster in another tense silence. 

Rooster couldn't help but feel frustrated, he wasn't expecting a massively warm welcome, but anything better than what he’d gotten would have been nice. He was doing you the favor here, so there was no way he’d let some spoiled pop star look down on him. "So, that's how you greet all your bodyguards?" 

You thought for a second you might not have heard him correctly, his tone sharp and scolding. He had no right to talk to you like that, hell, Iceman barely spoke to you like that, and you’d definitely grated on his nerves more than once. 

Your eyes narrowed slightly, "Excuse me?" 

Rooster rolled his eyes, "Your... less than warm reaction." he clarified, gesturing with his hand, "I'm here to protect you, but you seem unimpressed." 

Your annoyance grew and you scoffed, "I'm only letting you be here because Ice wants you here. I definitely don’t." 

Rooster's jaw tightened a little at your words, his expression hardening a bit. The blatant honestly stung a little, but he refused to show it, "Thanks for making that clear." he muttered. 

You rolled your eyes, "Just don't get in my way, alright?" 

Roosted gritted his teeth, his annoyance mounting and your attitude starting to get under his skin, "Don't worry, I won't get in your way." he said with a biting tone. 

You nodded curtly and quickly turned and left the kitchen, leaving Rooster's eyes lingering on your retreating form. He let out a frustrated sigh, irritation simmering beneath the surface.  

“Well, that went well." he muttered to himself, turning back to the kitchen island.  

Any respect he’d felt for you after Ben’s words in the car was long gone. You seemed like a typical spoiled brat, and he definitely wouldn’t be dealing with an attitude like yours for long, not if he had anything to say about it. 

His eyes fell back onto the photos as he looked over them again.  

How the hell was he going to protect you if you didn’t want to let him? 

---

A/N: what do we think of part 1? :)) hope you all liked it! gonna try to update twice a week! Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

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