#what the hell is a vacation lmao

[liquid-geodes]

This day after mothers day, and every other holiday where you're running to the grocery store the day before/day of/day after said holiday, please for the love of God be so very kind to your grocery store employees

Some of us are the only person, yes person singular, running three, yes more than one, departments.

Some of us are doing this with no holiday pay for the minor, but busier, holidays.

Some of us have never been home with our families on these holidays while you're scrambling to get home to your family.

Some of us are barely making $11 an hour.

Some of us are very tired.

Some of us are me.

Be so nice to me.

Please.

[angelclan-souls]

I'm still working on the moons and planning to try and draw em after my prelim exams but do know you all put the fear of God in me when I look in here and see 90+ notifications out of nowhere pouring in lmao 😭

[handsomegentlebutch]

My 3 little cousins were baptized today. "Triggered" is kind of a strong word but being in a catholic church again... I'm a little fragile rn ngl.

[sharkneto]

man i knew it was going too smoothly

[thundergrace]

I saw a tweet today that said "Ashanti been on vacation for 8 years"

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

I love reading all your tags related to testing. Like this lovely person is one of my people, we understand each other.

I love you fellow software person!!

[algae-tm]

SUMMER LOVIN’

Charles Leclerc x Reader

You and Charles fall in love in St.Lucia (one shot)

Warnings: none?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

INSTAGRAM

youruser

liked by yourbffuser, and 124 others

youruser: you think you just fell out of a coconut tree???🥥

view all comments

yourbffuser: HELLO??!! Who is the man????

- youruser: what man?

- yourbffuser: now i KNOW you aren’t serious. in the second pic!!!!

- youruser: oh him… that’s pookie 😋🤭

- yourbffuser: count your motherfuckin days

yoursisteruser: you collect white men like pokemon smh

- youruser: gotta catch ‘em all!! 😏😤

-yoursisteruser: sigh

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and 1,234,432 others

charles_leclerc: St. Lucia 🌊☀️

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user1: why is he so boyfriend coded in the 2nd pic?

- user2: don’t be alarmed bestie but it might have something to do with the literal girl he’s holding hands with in the 3rd pic…

landonorris: is this what the youth call a soft launch?

-charles_leclerc: you are the youth

carlossainz55: ay who’s the girl?

— charles_leclerc: No one and everyone

— user1: wtf does this mean 😭 😭

— user5: why is this simultaneously the dumbest yet most romantic thing I’ve ever read, and I have a boyfriend 😭

— user6: girl- tell your boyfriend to step up or leave him… the bar is in literal hell. — user7: bro releases a couple songs and thinks he’s cool and mysterious

youruser just posted

liked by yourbffuser, and 129 others

youruser: cute solo travel idea- get a man to take you places

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yourbffuser: two posts with the same guy? I fear we’ve lost her

- youruser: NOOOO I’m still a bad bitch, I’m licensed and everything!!

- yoursisteruser: heartbreaker turns into lover girl… story for the ages

yoursisteruser: who is he???? Your fans want to know!!

—youruser: just a cute monegasque

—yoursisteruser: is that a cheese or something?

— youruser: a place apparently… he gets stroppy when I call him French 🤷🏾‍♀️

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,456,789 others

charles_leclerc: summer lovin’ happened so fast

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user4: two posts with what I’m guessing is the same girl… please twitter users starts sleuthing!!

— user5: or, hear me out, bit of a wild suggestion, just let them be?

— user3: do you think they were together b4, or he found her on holiday??

— user4: wait holdup I didn’t even think of the possibility that this could be just a vacation romance you’re so right @user3

— user5: why do I even bother with these people

pierregasly: day 67895 of asking you to tell me who she is!!

— user53: lmao Pierre is one of us confirmed

— user43: close! He actually knows Charles personally so no he isn’t one of you

— user53: now what did I do to you? 😭

youruser just posted

liked by yourbffuser, yoursisteruser and 150 others

youruser: bye bye bye you were bigger than the whole sky…

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yourbffuser: oh pooks

yoursisteruser: glad to know you have a heart

— youruser: bite me

— yourbffuser: time and place, bestie @yoursisteruser

MESSAGES

SIX MONTHS LATER

MESSAGES

3 MONTHS LATER

INSTAGRAM

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by lewishamilton, arthur_leclerc and 5,234,432 others

charles_leclerc: mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

(tagged youruser)

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lewishamilton: nice to see it brother! You know what they say

— youruser: once you go black!

— lewishamilton: I was gunna say the course of true love never did run smooth…

— youruser: mine works better!!

— user4: lmao she’s hilarious

— user5: and just as chaotic as Charles 😭 they’re made for eachother

—user6: idk I think he needs someone more introverted… she’s attention seeking (this user was blocked by charles_leclerc)

—charles_leclerc: blocked 🤭😙

—youruser: my man, my man, my man!

landonorris: she’s gorgeous

— charles_leclerc: why do you live to cause me distress??

georgerussell63: blimey, was only yesterday you told us you never got her number

— maxverstappen1: very stupid

— danielricciardo: Max be nice

— maxverstappen1: sorry

carlossainz55: well done cabron!

youruser: mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

arthur_leclerc: she’s lovely

— charles_leclerc: isn’t she just

•••••••••••••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

[pants-lint]

.

[cherryredstars]

omg hi cherry!!! yay yay yay I'm so excited requests are open! I love your writings ❤❤❤

Mkay so I was wondering if you would be into writing something more fluffy (I mean you can put smut if you want, lord knows I'm not gonna complain 🤭). I was thinking maybe reader is a teacher, and Gabriella is in her class at school, so she meets Miguel that way. And like over time he just keeps making excuses to see her, even though Gabriella's grades are actually totally fine— he's just so down bad lmao

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reder

Warnings: Fluff, Last Line is Suggestive

A/N: Hi, lovie! Thank you!!!

Unedited

You're fucking stunning.

Standing there in a pretty little dress, skin glowy from summer vacation. Got one hell of a smile on you, too. It has Miguel antsy as he waits in line to drop Gabi off for her first day, his hands tightening around his daughter's book bag as his eyes study every little move you make. Eyes zeroing in on how the wind plasters the back of your dress to your legs, your hands catching the front of it to prevent the fabric from flying too high up. He's nothing but a lovesick puppy by the time he reaches you, nodding dumbly to your introduction as he marvels over the softness of your hand in his, and eyes dropping to the glossy tint of your lips. He has to stop myself from making a noise when you bend down to talk to Gabi, complementing her outfit and gushing about how excited you are to be her teacher this year. The sight is so fucking domestic and he has to stop the fantasies popping up in his head. He takes it as a god-given sign that you're meant to be his when you start to get up, only to grab onto Miguel's shoulder as two little kids come running and bumping into you from behind. He'd be one hell of a lousy man if he didn't jump at the opportunity to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him to 'help steady you'.

Any day that Gabi comes homes with a little paper asking for parent help at a school event for her class is one hell of a lucky day for Miguel. Instantly jumping at the opportunity, signing up the seconds he reads it. Can't miss out on a single opportunity to see how you treat Gabi like she's your own kid or be close to you. Fucking loves how flustered you are every time he takes something off your hands, encouraging you to leave all the heavy duty labor to him so you can focus on the kids. He's always offering to do something for you. Something in the classroom is broken and the school's maintenance is taking too long to fix it? Oh cariño, why didn't you say something sooner to him or Gabi? He'll come in during your lunch break to fix it up while the kids are at recess. Sweet little thing needs help putting up decorations around the classroom? Oh baby, what do you think big, large men are meant for? He'll stay after school Friday and put everything up, just sit and be pretty as you help Gabi with her math homework. Sad that you need to buy new supplies for the classroom but they don't fit into your budget and you feel bad having to ask the parents to donate supplies again? Oh doll, send him a list of anything and everything you want and it's yours, pretty ladies like you don't deserve to worry about things like that. He'll even give you his number so he can buy you lunch.

And when you blink up at him with your sparkly doe eyes and ask, "What can I do to repay you, Mr. O'Hara?"

Fuck.

If you aren't careful, he might just have to buy you a pretty little ring. And, by next school year, you'll be introducing yourself as Mrs. O'Hara.

Maybe he'll even give you a kid of your own while he's at it; Gabi's been bothering him about a baby brother, anyways.

[yanderexchubbyreader]

yan!boss x chubby!secretary!reader

warnings: i don’t know what warnings to put lmao, creepy behaviours, reference to stalking at the end, he spoils you, digs through your trash and then jacks off to your photo, obsessive behaviours, no harm to reader but yan!boss has a shrine

~~~

- Imagine randomly getting a job offer as a secretary in a local business office in your town

- The email made the job sound amazing. Benefits, paid vacation days, and the lovey double digit an hour pay rate was just the cake on top

- You hoped that your first day would be easy, but upon meeting your boss, you realized that you didn’t just get hired by luck

- Yan!Boss is a little obsessive over you, and that’s a fact that you easily found out in 20 minutes

- He never left your side, usually invading your bubble and asking questions about your personal life, even some things that you felt a little embarrassed to talk about

- Any business trips, meetings or luncheons, Yan!Boss always has you in tow, treating you more like his wife rather than his employee

- Hell, he even pays for your nail and hair appointments, or practically forces you to take his credit card to spoil yourself silly, as long as you pick up something nice to wear in the office

- AKA something that shows off more of your chest and neck, and preferrably something a little short on the legs, as well

- He quickly rescinded that desire, firing 7 of his employees without hesitation for ogling your body when you came in a low cut dress that landed at your mid thigh

- You’d end up wearing his suit jacket to cover yourself, but maybe that was his plan all along

- Yan!Boss has no secrets about being obsessed with you, everyone in the office sees how he follows you like a puppy dog when you step away from your desk

- But they don’t understand just how deep that obsession goes, hell, you don’t even know what goes on in his office

- Until you stepped into the space one day, trying to deliver a file to your employer, when you stumbled upon something that just turned your stomach

- Yan!Boss has a little corner of his office just for stuff that reminds him of you

- You would have thought it was cute, if it wasn’t for the fact you saw the lipstick that you had been missing for weeks

- Along with a napkin that had said lipstick blotted on it

- And what you recognized was a collection of trash that he had collected from your bin, mainly straws and chewing gum wrappers that you disposed your old gum into

- And the worst part?

- Yan!Boss was indecent, his hand wrapped around his cock as he stared at a picture of you that he had printed and framed

- As quietly as you could, you just stepped back, closing the office door and rushing to your desk to gather your things

- He came out a few moments later, looking as normal as he did on a daily basis, immediately coming to your side as he noticed you packing up

- Feigning sick, you rushed away, denying his offer to take you home while trying to keep your voice from wavering

- You put in your two weeks as soon as you got home, already having decided you weren’t returning to the office so you didn’t have to look at your boss anymore

- Well… Sucks for you that he knows your address, huh?

[angelsheartts]

Hi!! I was wondering if I could request the “hope nobody will catch us!” prompt for Angel dust x gn! reader too? Thank you love!!❤️❤️

✩‧₊˚ I HOPE NOBODY CATCH US !! .

(but i kinda hope they catch us, anyways)

#pairing: angel dust, husk, velvette, lute x gn reader

#cw: suggestive content, +18 mdni, cuss words Imao, getting caught in suggestive situations ig?? adam being adam on lutes part, drunk sex?, kind of only fans on velvettes part ngl.

#notes: just got back from vacation, and i do feel kind of inspirational to write on my blog lmao, so here it is! second part of "i hope nobody catch us". did anyone noticed it’s the lyrics from les - childish gambino?

PART l

˖ ˚ ༘✶ ANGEL DUST .

well, it’s kind of ironic how angel dust would actually care if someone would see you both fucking, but it’s just because he actually wants to have something intimate with you, not just some porn video where you both need to act.

today, valentino had given your partner finally a day off, so you both decided it would be the best to spend it together.

as you both were cuddling in his bed, you somehow started teasing him by confessing how you watched one of his adult videos, and how much it had turned you, so it wasn’t a big surprise how you ended having him on top of you.

"that’s kinky for you to say, but keep going" angel dust said, smirking at you while already having your underwear aside "well, at first i saw how you went down on them, and-" suddenly fat nuggets was on the bed looking at you both.

yeah, so after seeing your kid staring at you both, it really made the atmosphere so not hot.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ HUSK .

i mean, husk, and you do have a pretty regular intimate life cause this man is sooo touch starved, but there’s something different about being drunk and intimate to him.

you knew you both had maybe a few more drinks than usually, but that wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

wrong, as soon as you started to feel the alcohol doing its thing, you soon started to feel horny too.

but, who could judge you? seeing your bartender boyfriend also with the same flushed face as you was so hot, you somehow ended on top of the counter, while having your boyfriend kiss your neck.

"Oh, for fucks sake, and everyone says im the perverted one?"

yeah, hearing angel dust words made you both stop, but it didn’t make you stopped once you reached your bedroom.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ VELVETTE .

your girlfriend being a famous influencer in hell wasn’t something new to you, but as soon as you both started dating, you didn’t expect her to literally get sent sex toys for you both to try out and recommend or give your review about it.

your girlfriend was doing a live on her sinstagram, when you unexpectedly entered the room in the lingerie she just bought you just a few days ago.

of course, she had to end her livestream by saying a lame excuse to pamper your needs, and what the best way to do that with testing the vibrator who got sent to her for a review.

"velvette, ah- it‘s too much, i‘m going to cum" while sitting on her lap and putting your arms around her neck, you both suddenly heard velvettes phone vibrating like crazy, turns out she never ended her livestream and all hell just saw how needy you were for her.

after really ending the live, let’s just say that the vibrator you used got most-sold-sex-toy of the month.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ LUTE .

your girlfriend is somehow always occupied with something that isn’t you, so you might of have your ways to have her attention.

even though your girlfriend is an exterminator, you both sometimes ended up working together.

so, if dragging her near a closet to have her all for yourself was bad, then what you wanted to do in there with her would be worse.

"(name), it’s not appropriate, and adam is gonna be here anytime soon" lute said, staring at your face with her mask "yeah, yeah you say that every time, but you know how it always ends"

and yes, it was true, your girlfriend knew your true intentions when you dragged her into the closet, but still, she had a kinky side where she liked doing things you weren’t supposed to.

not to mention how hot you looked when you tried to be the dominant one.

"fuck, you're already so wet, huh? is it because you like getting me in trouble or because you want me to punish you?" she said, rubbing her fingers near your clit faster each time, "ah, lute-! keep going" "you’re a fucking mess, answer my questi-"

"DANGERTITS? bullshit, why the fuck didn’t i come sooner? legit thought you didn’t have sex, but you know what? this can get pretty awesome if i joi-“

adam did in fact not join you both, but he did make lute clear that "you both needed the original dick to even come" - adams words.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned. 

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream. 

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment. 

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter. 

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want. 

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy. 

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal. 

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb. 

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated. 

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition. 

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot. 

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder. 

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty. 

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year. 

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express. 

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair. 

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong? 

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack. 

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights? 

He’d heard some things about teenagers. 

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly. 

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen. 

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there. 

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father. 

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap. 

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours. 

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.” 

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers. 

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all. 

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else. 

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts. 

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.” 

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.” 

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head. 

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket. 

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?” 

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?” 

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted. 

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way. 

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals. 

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought. 

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard. 

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door. 

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop. 

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise. 

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds. 

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand. 

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!” 

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands. 

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly. 

“Please.” A pin could drop. 

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand. 

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver. 

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do. 

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else. 

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle. 

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from. 

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries. 

“Can I come in?” 

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do? 

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing. 

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?” 

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.” 

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in. 

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears. 

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips. 

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle. 

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins. 

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter. 

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly. 

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns. 

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence. 

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?” 

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.” 

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles. 

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly. 

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen. 

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket. 

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around. 

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.” 

Of course, he’d noticed that, too. 

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely. 

“What is it?” 

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin. 

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[kingkat12]

september in paris (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: none (for now lmao)

summary: your September vacation in Paris is polluted by the sight of sickeningly loving couples— what happens when you finally find someone who shares your frustrations?

word count: 1,715

a/n: currently in Paris for vacation right now lol, so enjoy this little drabble that I wrote for that occasion!! tihi

I hate September. It's either when school starts, or when I'm on vacation having the time of my life. 

Now, don't get me wrong; I love vacations. Especially since my recent get-aways have taken place in France because my father got a job there. And who am I to say no to free accomodation in the most romantic city in the world?

But being single in the most romantic city in the world is absolute torture— why had no one bothered to inform me of this? 

September was the peak month for tourism in Paris; the place was swarmed with couples, either completely fresh or on their honeymoon. Everything about it had me rolling my eyes— My favourite activity was to sit at different cafés around the city, giving rude stares to the happy couples passing by. I suppose it made me feel better about myself... although I would never say that out loud. 

My activites of bitterness would eventually end up being interrupted by a young man who sat down next to me one morning, completely uninvited, with a newspaper in hand. Something about it felt old-school, classic, but also annoying— did he not know that you shouldn't seat yourself this close to a stranger? Especially when there are other seats around?

I moved my nasty glare from the young couple passing us by, now watching the man next to me push my morning tea to my edge of the table to make space for his coffee. That was my last straw; "Pardon?"

He looked up from his paper, quirking a brow at me. "Yes?"

Okay, good-- I was relieved to hear that he spoke english. To demonstrate, I glanced around the practically empty café, waving my arms at the vacant spaces with a rather outraged look in my eyes. "Are you maybe new to Paris? There's a certain etiquette at cafés' here. You don't sit down next to strangers like this when the whole place is available,"

The man shrugged, folding his newspaper in his lap. "I think it might be you that is new to Paris," he said, his strikingly green eyes finding mine with intense challenge before he continued; "My family are patrons of this place, and this is my table. And it was my mother's before me, and my grandfather's before her. I thought I was nice by not telling you to move, but I most certainly could?"

My jaw fell, outraged. "What is this, middle school? There aren't assigned seats and tables out in public!"

"Actually, there are. And you're sitting at my table," He reached for his cup of coffee, not breaking eye-contact. "Care to move?"

Something about him was terrifyingly intimidating, but there was no way in hell I'd back down. Just as I was about to open my mouth and snap back once more, I couldn't help but take a few seconds to take in the sight of him; he was wearing a suit at around ten in the morning, his brown hair was gelled back tastefully, and I recognized his enormous watch from the ads around every bus stop in Paris. Was that seriously the newest Rolex? My mouth started to feel drier than a desert— who was this guy? Had I not seen him somewhere before? 

However, no matter what watch he wore, whether his mother and grandfather liked this table too, he still deserved to be told off for being such a stuck up prick. "I'm not going to move. I was here first,"

The stranger rolled his eyes, letting out an obnoxiously loud sigh. "Could we please not do this before the clock has even struck twelve? Be a good little girl and scram, please,"

"Excuse me?" Everything about this was outrageous; did he really think he could talk to me like that? "Sorry, who the hell do you think you are?—"

My rant was quickly cut off; "Hold on," he said, holding out his finger in front of my face as he watched a seemingly new couple pass us. His mouth curved up into a sneer, shaking his head in dismay as he glared at them; "I think these couples all around town are more annoying than you, can you believe it? They're fucking everywhere." He eventually turned back to me, now holding his hand out for me to take. "I'm Roman. And you?"

Roman? I was getting closer and closer to piecing together where I had seen him before— it was right on the tip of my tongue. Introducing myself, I warily shook his hand, unsure where this was leading to. "At least we can agree that the lovebirds are polluting the city,"

Roman's eyes rounded out, an amused look shimmering in his eyes. "I think I said that exact thing earlier today... Funny," 

It was clear that the atmosphere had changed. This would be the first time I ever bonded with a stranger over something so bitter. "Earlier than this? What were you doing up so early?" I decided that I'd entertain whatever this was.

With a shrug, Roman ran his fingers through his styled hair, checking whether it was still holding its form or not. "Just a meeting. I think I slept through most of it, actually,"

I held back a snort, nodding along with words. Then suddenly, it was as though a lightbulb appeared above my head— meeting? Just as I was about to ask him what he did for work, a rather loud bus passed us, and I couldn't believe who it was on the ad on the front of it.

Blinking rapidly, I kept waiting for the face on the bus to morph into someone else. Were my eyes deceiving me? Unable to keep still, I moved to the edge of my seat, my lips parting in shock at the realization that the man on the ad was the same as the one sitting next to me. 

Godfrey Industries - A Brighter Tomorrow. Beneath the bold text was his name, along with the title of world's youngest CEO. 

"There is no way in hell," I mumbled, turning to Roman with a horrified look on my face.

In turn, he bit back an obnoxious smirk. "I fucking hate that bus,"

"It has your face on it,"

"I hate that picture,"

I shrugged; "Why? It's a good one,"

Raising his brows, Roman snickered, leaning back against his chair with a casual manspread. "What, so now you say I look good? Quite the girl I've met on the streets of Paris,"

"Not on the streets," I mumbled, reaching for my cup of tea. "That makes me sound like a hooker."

"... You're right, my bad," Roman watched as I sipped my drink, and he put away his newspaper on a chair close by. "I bet a hundred bucks that your face will be all across the next bus that passes, though."

My brows drew together, huffing as I put down my tea. "You might as well just give me the money right away, then,"

"Why?" Roman tapped his fingers against the table, fighting the amused smirk that threatened to creep up his face. "You're telling me you're not a model?"

I was very happy to have swallowed my tea already— I would've spit it out on the whole pavement, if not. "No, I'm definitely not a model. Just visiting the city," Was he flirting with me? I couldn't quite put my finger on how we had gone from bickering to whatever this was. "So... Roman Godfrey, world's youngest CEO, what brings you to Paris?"

Roman chuckled as he reached for his coffee; "I'm here to roll around in self-loathing at the sight of happy people in love. You?"

I couldn't help but giggle— weirdly enough, I was starting to like this guy. "I have a week before I go back to college, and I have family in Paris. Just taking liberties of free accommodation, I guess,"

"I see," Roman nodded, his green eyes engraving themselves into my mind. "Would you maybe also like to take the liberty of a free drink later tonight, then? I have my own booth at Club Palais down by the Arc if you want to stop by."

Why was I getting so flustered? I wasn't about to show it— I somehow managed to look away from the most charming man I had ever met, hoping my hair would cover the blush creeping up my cheeks. "It seems you have your assigned seats all around town,"

That made him laugh all over; I couldn't help but notice how much I enjoyed the sound of his amusement. "Yeah... But the difference is that you're very welcome to take a seat, this time," Roman finished his coffee, grabbing his newspaper as he got up from his chair. I couldn't help but notice how tall he was— how was he even a real person? He reached into his blazer, pulling out a sleek, beige card. "Here's my number. Feel free to call if you can't make it tonight, or if you ever feel bored during your week here. There are many fun things to do in this city... Especially when you're two."

I accepted the card between my fingers, trying not to think too much about the feeling of his hand against mine. What was that last sentence supposed to mean? I didn't have time to think it over— "Will do,"

Roman nodded, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a satisfied smirk. "See you, then," 

Just as he was about to leave, another sickeningly sweet couple passed us. Roman gave me a look, imitating the urge to throw up, and I had to clasp a hand over my mouth as the couple turned towards us at the sound of my laugh. 

Roman tucked his hands into his pockets, shaking his head as he let out a hearty chuckle, disappearing into the crowd of people passing the café.

I couldn't help but sigh-- I still hated September. But this vacation seemed to turn into the best time of my life, just as I had predicted it to be.

[hopeastrz]

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈.🦢༉‧₊˚.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫/𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 + 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: 𝐔𝐦𝐦𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!.

Funny thing about this specific return chart is that it’s quite literal sometimes, i remember having 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒���� a couple months ago and the amount of Plumbing issues we had was infuriating, in the kitchen, master bathroom and the other bathrooms literally everything water-related was fucked.

The amount of selfies and photos i posted on social media when i had 𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 was crazy, is like i went on a rampage, but i really felt like sharing lots of aesthetics then.

Also with this placement i got catcalled and flirted with too.. since it 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈.

𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝟔,𝟏𝟖 may make you want to start a brand new routine or just have this urge to change your life, because you’ll get more critical on yourself.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 — 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 will make you stick to whatever plan you have and be entirely dedicated to it until you finish it, which is why i recommended starting important things during that time.

On the other hand 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 — 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 may make things a bit difficult. In 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 case you will work yourself til death literally, your body will beg you for mercy because without even noticing you’ll become a slave to that task, so beware of workaholism lmao.

𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 though makes you feel drained, like you just have no willpower to do anything and instead your energy will be wasted on daydreaming about what you should’ve done and the actions you should’ve taken to complete that matter, anxiety may take a toll on you during that month more than ever too.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 — 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 with these aspects you may be easily exposed to different kinds of addictions so don’t start any negative habit then because it’ll stick.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 — 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 may or may not make you try a new clothing style, like just change your wardrobe and wear things you never imagined you’d wear, maybe even add unique pieces to your outfits, corsets for example.

Having 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐎�� 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 to 𝟑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐒 or more is actual hell, no because when this happened i was fighting demons every single day, i can say that this specific month kicked my ass so bad i literally couldn’t function properly without having murrder on my mind 24/7..

.. 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 aspected 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐍, 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍, 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒, 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐎 all 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒.. let me tell you that till this day i shiver whenever i remember how these 30 days went by.. felt like i experienced a year worth of pain in a month.

𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 get ready to compare yourself with your friends, you’ll feel insecure around them.

If you have 𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐔𝐌, be sure that’ll be one of the best months of the year, i usually travel and go on vacations when i have this placement, or just spend most of my time in entertaining places.

𝐒𝐔𝐍, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 you’ll be girl mathin’ alot bestie, because money will appear out of thin air in your bank account and you’ll spend it just as fast as it came…

Wanna know on what? Depending on the 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰) + 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 since it’s the area of attracting.

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: let’s say this month you have Leo on the 2nd house in the lunar return chart, you’ll go then and see where is Leo in your natal chart, you found it for example in the 9th house?, (meaning you’re a Sagittarius rising), then the 2nd house in lunar return chart falls on your natal 9th house.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐂: obviously you’ll spend more money on yourself more than anything else, probably on sports equipment, gym or any body movement related thing, you may spend money to change your looks too.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: obviously Venus themed stuff, like perfumes, jewelry, necklaces specifically, luxury themed stuff too, maybe marble status, paintings things that add beauty and food too!.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: books!, things for your school, cute stationary, notebooks, backpacks, transportation like subway or your own car, maybe even travel, also on your phone you may buy a new case for it or fix an issue that requires you to pay some money.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐂: you may buy things for the kitchen, baking ingredients too, new furniture, it may be essentials or just things for comfort, you may buy things for your mother, or new born baby if your expecting any, just femininity related stuff.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐎, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: art, art and art again, kinda cliché but when i had this placement i remember buying lots of canvas, colors and art books because yeah painting is a hobby of mine, moving on You may spend money on your lover, or just entertainment in general, go to the theater, cinema, amusements or museums, things that bring you joy!.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: Foodstuffs, clothing, on your health, pets, a new routine that you’ll follow, healthy food because you may start a new diet. Cleaning products too, or your fitness.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐂: you may spend your money on legal stuff, contracts and all things official for example getting your passport done or things that has something to do with legal work, you may also spend your money on marriage if you’re getting married, spend your money on your long term partner, on make-up, sweets, also you may buy things for your coworkers like donuts or something.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟖𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: this one was kinda hard to interpret, however you may spend on Sexual relationships and commitments of all kinds, sex toys, and literally any sexual related thing, also on your finances, paying debt, rent or things that may transform you like surgeries, and beauty surgeries.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: when i had this placement i spent most of my money on college stuff, also on books and knowledge, religious stuff, souvenirs or stuff that will stay with you long term, i was also getting ready to travel so i bought things that i needed on my vacation.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐂: i have a feeling that you’ll save some money and you’ll be more financially responsible during this, however if you spend you’ll spend money that’ll aid you in your career or help your public image, like giving to charities and stuff like that, you may also spend on government stuff.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒, 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: keep your money in your pockets and don’t pamper your friends honey, please i know it’s a difficult urge to fight.. you may pay your electricity bills then, also on your phone, hang out more, spend money on desires that emerge during that month or things you’ve long wanted and hoped for.

𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒, 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄: the amount of pillows and sheets i bought once due to this placement lmao, and i also started getting into spirituality more so i remember buying my first ever tarot card deck then, and also some plants that helps in cleansing my energy etc.. you may also spend money on laundry, and eat lots of sea food.

[nadvs]

OMG, i’ve never written one of these so im nervous lmao. I wanted to say, I am ABSOLUTELY in love with this basketball!rage stories you have going on right now!

Don’t know if i’m getting to ahead of my self, but I can literally imagine reader and rafe when he gets drafted to the NBA. Or even reader sitting courtside on his NBA games, whether only her or with this kids! Also like imagining rafe winning the NBA finals.

I don’t know if you plan on going that far with this series, but just would absolutely love to read about them more!!!! Your writing is so AMAZING!

hi hi aw thank you sm for reading and messaging!! 🥰

based on this fic

AAA I LOVE IT she’d be supporting him as he waits for draft night and he’d be fooling everyone but her that he’s not nervous. in reality, he’s scared as hell that he’s gonna go undrafted.

but then he’s offered a two-year contract for a team states away and that’s when he knows for sure that he loves her because underneath the excitement he feels, he’s scared the distance will ruin things between them.

they do have troubles and they argue a lot when he moves away because their worlds become so different and he gets so busy and wrapped up in his new life. but he doesn’t let it fuck things up. he flies back to see her every single chance he gets. if he’s not playing or training, he’s finding a way to see her. eventually she regains trust in their relationship and uproots her life to move in with him.

the tabloids eat their love story up. she’d be sitting courtside and the camera’s focused on her pre-game while the commentators are talking about how good his season’s been and how interesting it is that he and his girlfriend are college sweethearts from rival schools.

during his first finals season, he injures his shoulder and he goes into a dark place once he gets told he needs to sit out the season. he takes the time off for rest and physical therapy. she’s there for him every day. he’s stronger and better the next time he gets a chance to go to the end with his team. he wins the championship trophy and after celebrating with his teammates into the early hours of the night, he crawls into their bed and he feels like he has to hold her as she sleeps because he cannot believe that this is his life and touching her makes it feel more real.

the next morning, he’s hungover and she tells him he should’ve hydrated (she’s been nagging him about that since their college days).

he has a reputation for being an angry, aggressive player. he becomes a figure people love to hate. he hardly ever agrees to do interviews he doesn’t have to do, but he gets offered to be part of a docu-series on athletes who had almost career-ending injuries but bounced back and he agrees to do the interview with his girl by his side and people all over social media are obsessed with them and how funny their banter is and how obviously in love they are with each other.

it gets to a point where they can’t go anywhere without being recognized and hounded, so he prioritizes booking quiet, private vacations for them every few months so she doesn’t get overwhelmed by it all. she keeps him grounded. she knew him when he was nobody, just a college ball player who bickered with her all the time.

throughout everything, the nature of their relationship never changes. they joke around a lot, but they give it to each other straight when they need to, and it’s what makes them have a strong, happy life together 🥹

[kneelingshadowsalome]

That König moodboard is making me want a fic where a 21 year old baby!König pursues a mid-thirties depressive (like me). It just sounds like a good time.

SADFSD I would inhale this fic...

Horny age gap thoughts under the cut 🫠🧍‍♀️(I upped our baby boy to being 25 lmao I'm weak)

It’s just so attractive when a woman knows what she wants. The tired stare when he tells her he’s 25 but he’s already a captain only makes him want to prove his worth more! She looks at him like, “Excuse me but what do you bring to the table” and he could make a list for her; truly, he could! He’s so eager to please and show that he’s a man; look, he makes more money than you, too. He provides for his Mama, so don’t you even think he wouldn’t provide for you...

And why would you want a man your age when there’s a more virile option available? He has at least twenty erections per day, he’s far more fertile if you’re looking for someone to breed–uh, he means, if you’d like to have babies one day… Come on, isn’t he the perfect option for you in every way?

You’re always breathless when he leaves for work, and silently thank your guardian angels that you’re still intact… You’ve told him a hundred times he doesn’t need to prove anything to you with his dick, but he does so anyway, and you barely get enough sleep whenever he’s on leave. So eagerly he wants to show you “his new tricks”... Truly, your pussy sighs from relief whenever this crazy young man marches out the door.

And what the hell are you supposed to do with all these gift cards he sends you? Does he even listen to you when you tell him you prefer experiences over material things? Ok, he hurries to say on the phone: you can pick a vacation spot for you two. Bali, Caribbean or Cape Horn? Svalbard? No?

You like it when a man is enthusiastic and commits, but this is a bit too much… And your pantry is wrecked after his visits, frankly you feel like he’s still a boy growing up from how much he eats... Your friends call you a cradle robber affectionately, even if you scream at them that he’s 25, not 15.

Can’t a girl enjoy some hot sex here, huh??

If only he was only after sex as well, but he’s not, kneeling in front of you when you’ve only just woken up and trying to have breakfast… You almost choke on your bowl of latte when this horny puppy is suddenly at your feet, holding up a diamond ring with a wide, heart-melting smile.

It’s not even the proposal or the rock that bothers you the most: how the hell can you say no to that lost-now-found dog stare??