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{ selkie vacation dress in "lickety split" and "caviar" }
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Old Bones | Chapter Ten
Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.
Warning(s): referenced abusive relationship, PTSD/trauma themes, alcohol use, mild language, very mild suggestive content
Word Count: 5.3k
A/N: not proofread, enjoy your dinner y'all <3
꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST
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꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST
Breathless
“You have any idea what this is about?” Simon shifts the gear into the park, looking over at you with furrowed brows.
The truth was, you had no idea. All you knew was the police found Cal’s body, and you were asked to come here. Nothing more than that.
Simon didn’t take much pleasure in the summon slipped into your mail slot, either. Driving several hours at the crack of dawn to make it to the legal office on time, which of course you’d insisted wasn’t necessary.
You shook your head, giving a sigh of contempt. “No, I don’t.”
He didn’t have to give you the lecture, to not mention his involvement, to go along with whatever bogus story the detectives had come up with. It only took them a day to find him, and then within eighteen hours, you’re here—standing outside a corporate building with legal documents in your hand.
One minute, you broke down in front of Simon, spewing about how much you hated him, and then the next, you’re back in his truck for several hours at a time, all before the sun even rose completely.
No sleep, just nail-biting tension in the hours leading up to this moment. Not to mention, how bumpy things had gotten between you two since his death.
This meeting could be very good, or very bad, and you weren’t so sure you knew the difference between the two anymore. Perhaps Cal, even in death, organized a legal loophole for you to deal with after his death—nothing would shock you anymore, especially involving him.
The tall building was eerily similar to the office where it all went down; corporate chic and bland, only instead of being abandoned, it was bustling with suits and blazers. Lawyers and clients, detectives, mind-numbing coffee conversation bounced off the navy blue walls.
You’d never felt more out of place, despite wearing the most business-casual outfit you could find in your limited wardrobe. Outdressed and outnumbered; never a good combination, especially for someone with a mountain of secrets.
If they knew about Simon or all the carnage, you would’ve been in cuffs and read your Miranda rights, surely. However, no amount of logic could sway the nausea simmering in your gut.
The first person you see inside; a bubbly receptionist way too happy to be working there, especially in contrast to all the hardened corporate faces her co-workers maintained. “How can I help you?”
That beam on her face drops slightly when her eyes wander to your neckline, the half-healed bruises still visible on your skin, then the small cuts on your face you had no desire to cover. She nods to herself as if when seeing those marks, she knew who you were without asking for your name.
“You’ll be on floor twenty, room 3B.” She fishes through her drawers and then pulls out a slip of paper for you—your pass to the upper floors. Well, in examining the document, she guessed correctly when she saw your scars—it was indeed your information on the sheet.
With each ding of the elevator, you watched the small screen displaying each floor number as it increased. Finally, it reached twenty, then the doors whirred open.
It was louder up here than before, several offices and cubicles with appointments of legal counsel proceeding as you stepped out. Your feet carried you to section B, and then you followed the labels until you reached the room with 3B displayed on its metal plaque.
There were no viewing windows, leaving you no clue about the meeting you were walking into. It could be a group of lawyers, or even detectives, for all you knew.
With a few knocks and a small muffled voice behind the door, you open it. At the crowded desk sits a lawyer about your age, deep in concentration as she scribbles. Compared to the suits downstairs, she’s dressed much more vibrantly.
“You must be…” She raises her eyes, giving the same look as the receptionist when she saw your marks. You slide the paper across her desk, ignoring the feelings of humiliation plaguing you. Her freshly done nails fumble with the edge of the paper, reading your name, though she clearly had no need to verify.
“Is anyone going to tell me why I’m here?” You mutter with impatience, digging your fingertips into the strap of your bag.
“You might want to sit down first, as a precaution.” Her tone is light, but firm, like she’s been through this a hundred times with her clients. Your snappiness didn’t phase her a bit.
Now, the nerves had nearly become too much. The atmosphere of the place was bad enough, how cagey the paperwork was, and now, sitting down across from a lawyer.
She draws a line with her fingers, from the name on your sheet, to her stack of folders, until she finds your file. The flimsy cardstock cover wooshes as she opens it, then pulls out a muted green slip. When giving it your first glance, it takes a few moments before you figure out what it is—a check.
All of Cal’s assets are addressed to you.
Next, she lays out a few real estate sheets—estimates on his home, adding a small fortune to the number on the check.
“I’m sure it’s a shock.” To you, her voice is muffled as if it's coming through a wall, and there’s a loud ring filling your ears. Then, it was her rambling about legalities, his death, and your rights, all of which went right through you without a second of thought.
It was tunnel vision, blurring around the edges. From anxiety consuming you one second, to now a wave of awe. You peered down at the number stamped on there, how it must be a typo. More than enough to keep you comfortable, but not enough to run free forever. Still, it had to be wrong, right? After such a series of bad luck, things like this didn’t happen to you, right?
“Miss?” Her hand reaches across the desk, pushing the check further to you, brows knitted in concern.
You shake your head, eyes dry from your unblinking stare of revelation. “I don’t understand. This is all mine? But, Cal sued me, and I… I left him.”
“You left him because you feared for your safety, am I right?” She points a brief finger at your neck, the cruel reminder those marks still give you daily, even here. “You were still legally married, this money’s yours, ma’am.” She says it with a smile of pity, brows still contorted slightly.
You palm the glass table, holding the flimsy slip in your hands now as if touching it would make you actually believe her.
Her words wait until you’ve made eye contact again. “In the eyes of the law, you’re entitled to his assets, even after death. He didn’t have any arrangements in place, and you were merely the first one listed.” She skims through your folder once more, sliding some legal paperwork your way, along with a pen.
“Keep it, spend it, donate it, burn it. It’s up to you.”
—
The second you buckled yourself in, Simon pulled out of the spot and drove in silence, only giving brief scans your way throughout. His iron grip on the steering wheel was typical, but the staring was not, at least not when driving.
You hadn’t come out in handcuffs, or with a police escort home, so things couldn’t have gone terribly wrong—at least by his standards. But you were quiet and more distant than usual.
“Mind tellin’ me what that was about?” He stops at a light, only flicking his gaze to traffic every few seconds. Without the distraction of the traffic, playing cold shoulder with him was much more difficult.
You scoff at the question, not at him, then speak with cynical sharpness. “Well, my husband’s dead.”
Your joke did little to lighten the mood, only prompting him to shift his hips in the seat awkwardly, then stare harder. “Robbery gone wrong, I guess. Found on the sidewalk in front of his apartment, pockets empty, too.” The words are coated with irony, and you can only wonder how Simon managed to stage the scene so well—though, that was one thing you truly didn’t want to be privy to.
“Hm.” He nods, foot laying on the gas the second the light turns green.
For someone so good at hiding his feelings, he did little of it now. He was acting stiff and thorny, unlike his usual self entirely.
The ride goes silent again; past the cityscape, past the backroads and highways, even when the next town was several miles away. Currently, it was a dirt road stretching straight for eternity, and there were very few other cars. Until you looked at the small screen on his dash, you hadn’t realized just how long things had gone quiet between you two—clearly, it was so long that you would be home again in an hour.
“It was a check. His assets.” You finally speak, parting the tension between the two of you. For once, it wasn’t a disgruntled tension, only a hesitant, wordless one.
For several seconds, the gravel crunching under the tires fills your ears. Then, Simon turns his head for the first time in hours, cocking it, “enough to get you out of here for good?”
“What? Are you eager to get rid of me?” You cocked a brow. It was as if so much tragedy, so much of it had caused your snarkiness to come out. Of course, directed at the most humorless man on the planet, nonetheless.
He snarled under his breath and shook his head, disgruntled at how he set himself up for that one. If only he had the power of words on his side, he would say so much at once—and probably too much. It was a blessing and a curse at the moment, considering the setting, everything in the past, and the building of the future as his tires covered the miles back home.
All interactions hushed again, as the mind-numbing ride resumed.
The miles on each sign you passed decreased, soon becoming single digits instead of doubles. Now, with all these assets in your possession, and a home to sell, it seemed your options were both limitless and petrifying.
Would it be smarter to find a more upscale apartment, to stay in the city you still know?
Should you return to the home where it all began, and risk more harm to your fresh wounds?
Or, perhaps, you could take a page out of Simon’s book; live a life of misery, tormented by your own thoughts, only making it to the next day with a bottle to tie you over.
—
One thing you knew, or really, the only thing you knew was how much thinking you had to do. Just what you needed after going to hell and back—more time alone with your thoughts. But you weren’t truly alone, because Simon hadn’t left your side. Not since the night you told him to stay, not since you broke down in front of him.
“You gonna stop stirrin’ that thing?”
His monotone voice snapped you out of it, gazing down at your hand, aggressively stirring the drink in your hands; the way the metal scraped against the porcelain mug was like nails on a chalkboard. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed it when you were stuck in your mind.
You took the spoon out, no longer wanting the drink you made a point of grabbing when you arrived back home. You slid the mug across the table, the steaming cup of caffeine now in front of his spot. But he didn’t touch it, only gave it a small deprecating look—no different than his usual attitude.
In truth, it was the paperwork and the check on the surface that you were staring at, trying to make a mental decision without the pressure of actually rereading those numbers.
Some people would be ecstatic, with so much money at their disposal. But it wasn’t like that, not a lottery win, it was only more pressure.
What you were supposed to do—that was literally still on the table, just like the reason he was still here—unbeknownst to you. It’s not like you were going to ask Simon, that would only complicate things further. Besides, even you knew deep down you weren’t in any state to be left alone. Perhaps the graceless feelings and tension would be just a little less if your company was anyone else.
There was no one else, though.
“You’re starin’ again.”
Your head shakes away the trance again, seeing his head cocked with confusion, still the steaming cup is untouched. “Was I?”
“Sorry, I’m just—” You draw in a quick breath, lungs, and body both unsteady from the crushing weight of the meeting this morning. Just how everything worked out this way, it had to be a miracle. Perhaps, fate, even.
“I know.”
The fabric around his eyes wrinkles slightly, as do his eyes when they squint. At first glance, he looks displeased. But they have that softness to them again, like the night he saw those photos, and most like the night on the rooftop—when things between you were still fresh and untouched.
You didn’t need to finish your sentence. His gift was observance, noticing each small cue and quirk, and it seemed he was miles ahead of you before your lips could draw a response. Still, he stayed; enraged, distraught, grieving, screaming, even through your fugue state of speechlessness.
Your fingers combed through your locks, riddled with small cuts and mended scars, a tense grip causing white knuckles and a searing scalp. By now, your forehead had met the table, almost in a dramatic way, “you don’t need to stay with me, pity me. I’m an adult.”
“I see that.” He says and would chuckle at the sight of your grump if the circumstances weren’t so serious.
“And I’m not pitying you. I would never do that.” His last sentence wasn’t one of empathy, it was reality. Support, protection? All potent qualities of his. Pity, charity? None, whatsoever. One sure thing about him, he wasn’t going to pretend to be something he’s not.
You propped your face up with your elbow resting on the table, and a fatigued cheek smushed against your palm. Why was he still here? “Good. I don’t need it.”
“You need something, or you’re gonna put a hole in that shotty drywall,” he began, rising to his feet with a small grunt, “am I correct?” It wasn’t a question, just like his first sentence was an experienced observation—one he had seen within himself many times.
There is a clinking of glass, and then a scape against the table, before the bottle hits your arm, halting the force of its smooth slide across the wooden table. You give a disgusted look, but it was true, you needed something.
“Whiskey isn’t the solution… But I’m going to drink it.” You twist off the metal cap, smacking it onto the table with the whole force of your troubling convictions. It had been months since you had a drink, let alone straight from a bottle.
Perhaps, it was Simon’s only way of bonding without verging on feelings territory—a line neither of you needed to cross again.
You toss back a quick sip, sliding the bottle back to him. The burn of it coats your throat, down your esophagus, and through your stomach, sticking there as it simmered. It made your face contort, but the smoothness of the amber liquid was easily addictive.
Simon lifts his shirt and wipes the tip off the bottle, ridding it of your careless salvia, before turning away to take a small sip of it, an arm raised to lift a small bit of his mask. When he turns again, it slides back your way once more.
You agreed to a shot, not a drunken seesaw with him.
But here you were, taking another sip of it. This time, the wrinkle of disgust was a little less strong, and the potent taste of it had dulled when your taste buds numb to it.
Your nerves did diminish a bit, the longer the alcohol sat with you. “Well, you were onto something, I’ll give credit where it's due.”
“Don’t need credit.” He lets out a loud sigh, despite his tolerance to the substance.
You scoffed at his answer, coating your tongue with a bigger chug this time. Might as well, right? “Do you have an off switch, or are you always a wet blanket?”
To your surprise, it’s not a defensive comment or a snarl coming from his clothed lips. Instead, he chuckles—genuinely, void of his usual sarcasm—well, half of it, at least.
“Good one, I’ll remember that.” You had no doubts about that statement, and it would probably come to bite you in the ass later, much like every other thing you’ve said.
“At least when you’re buzzed you have a sense of humor.” Through the fabric of his mask, there is a smug brow cocked.
For the first time, bouncing off the other didn’t mean a conflict of half-empty comforts, it was a wholehearted conversation. A human one; a small aspect of life you had been missing so dearly, but without noticing the need for it.
A hand rested on his clothes thigh, legs spread wide in the dining chair as you both returned the bottle once you were done. Each time, he repeats his routine of turning away to take a sip—a habit that surprised you very little, in actuality, not at all. His privacy was one thing he never lost, despite all that you had been through at his side.
The stoic man with a mask treated you more authentically, more humanlike, than the one with no crooked teeth and a thousand material things to buy you.
The wounding irony of it made you nauseous, made you want to pound your fists into concrete.
This drinking game persisted for several minutes, and neither of you showed any intention of pacing yourselves. Simon, of course, was relatively unfazed by the substance, only speaking a little sluggish and reeking of it from across the table. You had gone off the deep end, with little restraint in holding yourself back. You had nothing binding you to sobriety, no job or husband, no worry of how to pay your rent—most significantly, your own personal guard was right here, with no sign of leaving.
There was only a shot left, more or less, when you slid the bottle back to him for the last time. He raised it, finishing it off until it was nothing more than a hollow glass vase.
“I’m… gonna get you a tea. This is my fault.” He muttered, a slightly widened look when he saw your current state.
You weren’t babbling like an idiot, or slurring like a drunken nuisance—your face was in your hands, a somber expression written on your face as you whispered to yourself, depressing phrases he couldn’t quite pick up on.
He hadn’t anticipated drunken clarity paired with depressed thoughts. What he wanted was less tension in your shoulders, an ease in your troubles, not the urge to find the roof and jump off.
On the bright side, for Simon at least? You hadn’t spewed yet, you were too occupied clawing at your insides for that.
“I’ll get it.” You snapped at him, legs moving a little slower than usual. But you had made it to the counter regardless, a hovering, offended hand shoving him out of the way. You swirled your finger, groaning under your breath when you had to find the effort to grab the items needed.
Simon placed a hand on his hip, leaning against the counter as he watched your odd mannerisms. Eyes reddened, hands twitching as you clumsily began boiling the water. To be frank, he was baffled that you could read the knobs on the stove.
You did it, eyes half open as you impatiently waited for the audible bubbling, and soon the loud whistle of the kettle to give you a migraine, surely. “You have a scar on your neck. Hm.” You pointed to it, but didn’t touch it—you weren’t that foolish, and you still had a desire to have your hands tomorrow.
He nodded and rubbed his thumb against it; the scar that showed when he wore t-shirts, stretching from his collarbone all the way to his chin, a once nasty laceration he got during knife combat, several years ago.
You truly hadn’t noticed it before, at least in its full magnitude.
There was a story there, one you didn’t want to know about. In truth, you only commented on it to pass the waiting time, not because your clouded mind told you to.
His fingers found the bottom of his mask, lifting it until the fabric rolled up to his bottom lip, the rest of his face still hidden. “See? A nasty bastard when it was fresh.” He figured, what the hell; you were in no position to hold this against him tomorrow.
You tilted your head, seeing that it deepend in the middle like that was the part the blade went deepest, then tapered off into a light indent when the slice finished. It wasn’t red or brown, it was scarred enough to match his pale flesh.
“Can I?”
No, you could not.
Nonetheless, he did nothing to stop the hand from reaching out to feel the mark. He wanted to close his eyes when he felt his muscles tense, how gently your fingers traced the scar. But they remained open, watching for any jerks in your movement—he couldn’t help it, his defensive instincts on high alert.
Your touch wasn’t predatory, nor invasive, despite his inner voice screaming at him to clench around your wrist, to squeeze it tight until you never did this again.
That self-protective part of him, he could contain, because it was foolish.
He couldn’t contain the way this made him feel, for the same reason, because it was foolish.
You could feel the tenseness of his shoulders, the small inhale when the pads of your fingers made contact with his neck, and most of all when they landed near his lips.
“Sorry.” You removed the hand, putting it back on your side.
But, he wasn’t irked, that much you could tell. In actuality, it was all you could pay attention to currently—him.
“Your water’s boiling.” The kettle hissed not a second after his words finished, forcing your attention to the stove. You found the knob and twisted it off, cutting the heat before your jumpiness caused a nasty scar of your own.
To reach the cleanest mug, you reached past him, head almost in the crook of his elbow. His height was an advantage, nearly an archway for you where the space of his arm opened enough for you. You grabbed it with haste, fighting every urge to run out of the room and bellow into the nearest cushion.
Waiting for the tea to turn was yet another opportunity for deafening silence. You set the mug aside after placing the bag of tea leaves in. For the liquid to have any effect, you needed it strong, so you were smacked in the face with another several minutes of staring.
It didn’t have to be like this, but it was, whether you were sober or inebriated did nothing to change that.
You had leaned down over the counter, face in your hands with regret. “I didn’t mean to push you. So you know, Simon.” You murmured against the wood countertop, left with little urge to lift your head and face him again.
What was once boldness and depressing clarity, was now pity on yourself and your actions—the one thing you so vehemently didn’t want from him.
“You’re…” He trailed off, lips tightening under his mask. “It’s nothing, ‘s alright.” It pained him to explain what had happened away, because it wasn’t nothing, to him. He still felt he needed permission from some unknown force to feel these basic things—attachment and touch.
“It’s not nothing.” You finally lift your head, picking up the steaming mug that wasn’t done yet. Your brows had contorted, and the reddened eyes had turned glossy. “I shouldn’t have pried like that. I’m sorry.”
Your past was talking for you, that dooming feeling of punishment for slipping up, for committing the crime of being yourself. Once met with a blow or insult, now met with a gentle touch to your shoulder, urging you to set down the cup.
“Let’s drop it, alright? I said it was nothing.” His tone was firm, but he wasn’t upset. His hand hovered again when you only gripped the porcelain mug tighter, looking into his eyes for proof of sincerity.
Simon felt he couldn’t be any more sincere than he was right now, in his own way. “How about you sit down somewhere… Please?” As much as he wanted to remain firm, he couldn’t. It wasn’t your fault for dipping into old habits out of distress, as much as it wasn’t his.
“I don’t want to sit.” You wanted to step back from him, distance your body from the potential harm of another brooding man, though he didn’t have an ounce of that in him—for you, at least. “This is what I didn’t want, for you to be upset with me.”
Your fretting look made his body ache, how convinced you were of repercussions coming your way in the form of his own two fists.
“Do I look upset with you?” He questioned rhetorically, reaching for the mug again. “Just… Find somewhere to sit this out, before someone gets hurt.” It came out worse than he wanted it to, wide open to your wounded analysis.
Once a worried expression, had dropped into a compliant look, the pound of your heart overtook any urge to retort or argue. That wasn’t how he meant it, it couldn’t be. If you weren’t inebriated, could you have believed that?
You turned on your heels, eyes darting toward the dining table feet away, white-knuckling the mug of tea to soothe this all-too-familiar feeling stabbing you.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says from behind you, now a concerned looming figure, “if you want to stand, you can stand. If you want to talk, then talk.” He placed a hand on your tensed shoulder, but it barely made contact, in dread that his touch would make matters worse.
A stray tear floated from your eye down your cheek, and you wiped it quickly before turning around, finding him close and hovering. “This is pathetic, isn’t it?” You chuckled snidely at your own pain, but there was little humor he could find in your own struggles.
“Crying in front of you again, seems to be a pattern when we’re together.” You sniffled, thumb finding the corner of your eye to smear away more tears.
His hand lifted off, but remained outstretched in a tense fashion like the appendage itself was unsure of the next step. “Drink your tea, and… relax.” Even his voice hesitated, a worrying stare on the shaking mug, daring to spill from your unpredictable hold.
You couldn’t bring yourself to drink it, not right now. Not when he was in this position again, just like when he had hovered over you after the argument, or when he pulled your head into his chest. Your focus was limited right now, as was your ability to regulate your being. The tender look in his eyes wasn’t helping, nor were his exposed lips, chapped and tension-filled.
“I’m so sorry, Simon.” You let out a sharp breath. “This isn’t your burden.” Your words mirrored that of the night you sobbed in his chest, before the meeting you had this morning set off this domino effect of emotions, landing you here.
It seemed he had forgotten his mouth was exposed because you could see the frown on his face. You shouldn’t be the one giving the apology, the only one that should be was in a morgue, unclaimed but still mourned by the woman in front of him.
One of his hands found the side of your cheek, resting a light palm on it for you to nuzzle. The other reached for the mug, the sheer size of his hand overtaking yours in an instant. He was supposed to take it from you, to help you find a comfortable seat, hell, to tuck you in for the night. But he didn’t. He had only restricted you, your cries like a knife in his side, twisting with each one.
Instead, he had leaned down, finding his chin on your shoulder for a few seconds, then your faces were inches apart, both sets of eyes squinting from their own troubles. Then, they met each other, heavy breathing escaping each of you as the other mouth stifled any rejections.
The trend of letting you cry it out prevailed, but it was different this time. So different, his fingers were clammy and his stomach turned. It was wrong, so wrong he would bludgend himself if he could.
The mug he was holding had slipped, sending it shattering to the ground. You jerked in his grip, eyes wandering to the tea spilled on the ground, but the firm hold he now hand on either side of your face prevented a recoil. The most agonizing part of it for you wasn’t the kiss you didn’t want, it was how you wanted this act of intimacy.
His mouth was agape now, hot breath against your chin, his own saliva dribbling down your chin, and you didn’t want to go anywhere. The act resumed again, this time with more force, your back finding the counter with some force, fingertips digging into your cheeks ever so slightly.
It didn’t hurt, it only urged you further into this.
The kiss wasn’t a placeholder for deeper intimacy, he meant every bit of it—up until his emotional walls rebuilt themselves. What the hell was he doing? Right here, right now, of all places?
From each side of your face, his hands now found your arms, yanking you away from this. “No.” Simon hissed, nails digging into your flesh to keep you from returning it anymore.
You couldn’t figure out which party those words were meant for—a scold for himself, for initiating this kiss, or you, for being vulnerable enough to kiss him back.
Still, your eyes were glossed and pouring, and even more now that the entire relationship would be altered permanently from here on. Maybe it was your fault, you thought, using physical intimacy to make up for spats, yet another habit Cal had embedded in you.
Simon wanted to apologize, so badly. But he couldn’t, no matter how shameful his gaze was now. His fingers found the rolled-up fabric of his mask, yanking it downward until his mouth was concealed again.
He couldn’t find those two words—the ones you had just said to him before the kiss. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers finding the shards on the tile and scooping them up without care for his skin, despite how deeply they pinched it.
Your thumb found your saturated lips, wiping away the evidence.
“I’m… going to bed.” You murmured, more to yourself than him. The smell of alcohol on your breath only acted as a reminder, as would the hangover tomorrow morning. With hesitance, you whipped around his kneeled position and exited the kitchen, eyes still wide with shock. Your stumbling feet carried you all the way to bed, a slow crawl until you could cover yourself completely with the duvet, like a cocoon of denial.
When forced into solitude with your racing thoughts, there was one dim light at the end of this tunnel.
You came to a decision about those papers, one that would land you far away from this chaos.
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Your Venus sign & your love language
numéro un
Earth signs 🌿
Capricorn 🕊
You’re a grounded and sincere lover, consistent and committed in the pursuit of love. You may take some time to fully envelope yourself in your lovers embrace, and to trust them but when you do you’re in it for the long haul. Love takes time for you and you’ll never stop working away at your relationships, knowing that anything you commit to will prove successful and abundant. You treat love like it’s hard work that’s worth doing. This is the kind of love of high school sweethearts who endure the long stretch of romance well into their older years. Or the kind who marries later in life knowing that all good things are worth waiting for. Likewise you can be a paternal lover, someone who sees the value of fostering your relationships with a fatherly approach. Keeping a steady and firm grip of any unsettling issues that may arise. You may even seek a lover of higher status than yourself or someone in the public eye as Capricorn is ruled by the 10th house of the public.
love language ~
Gift giving | Your love language is the art of gift giving. Whether that be the gift of time, an experience or something of significant material value. You see that your love should be cemented with something of financial or fiscal merit. You may also enjoy the transactional nature of love and a lover who can relish the practicalities and ambition of your showing of love. Think, a lavish birthday or anniversary gift of a trip to Paris where no expense is spared and where you can experience your love in a tangible real way.
Taurus 🕊
You’re a lover of the five senses. Here your Venus sign is in is home place, Taurus being ruled by the goddess planet Venus itself. Love for you is all about indulging the senses and feeling the sensation of love. Taste, touch, smell, sound and sight are all essential in your romantic and pleasurable pursuits. It’s a slow burn for you and you would love to enjoy every last hedonistic drop of your courtship with your lover. Earthy and secure, you’ll take your time to get really comfortable with them. Comfort is actually key as you’ll need someone you can build a grounded nest with. You want a relationship that builds over time, and being a fixed earth sign you wont want to move once you’re materially secure. This is the kind of romance between two lovers wrapped up in comfortable silk sheets letting the day wile away, or you both lying lazily in the garden sunshine wrapped up in each other’s arms. You may see the value in security above all else.
love language ~
Physical touch | Being so cued into sensation you’ll love long drawn out kisses that dance on the tongue, lingering strokes up and down the back. Love to you should be expressed by always holding hands and tousling your lovers hair. Everything should be felt in perfect harmony with one another. You may also love indulging, whether that be with a sweet luxurious dessert that you both devour over the same fork or a warm comforting movie tangled up on the love seat.
Virgo 🕊
Youre a gentle and a pure lover. After all Virgo is the sign of purity, and service. Love for you is an act of giving to your lover. You know that no amount of material gain or physical affection could ever be compared to the sincere act of looking after someone with genuine concern. Love for you is medicinal in it’s approach, taken every day like a shot of healthy wheatgrass juice. You care in the practical and genuine ways that are necessary. Romance is a routine for you that should be followed with perfect precision. You enjoy all the hallmarks in taking the proper steps to love. This is the kind of love of two practical partners who would get up at the crack of dawn on a cold winters morning to put an extra blanket over the other in bed. Or the love of two analytical thinkers who can succinctly put together an ikea wardrobe in twenty minutes. You care in ways that are simple and ritualistic but essential and romantic in their wholesomeness.
love language ~
Acts of service | There is simply no other way to love for you than by a simple act of service to your lover. You see your time is best spent by paying attention to the virtues of the day to day with your partner. Picking up shopping together, cleaning your apartment or cooking a healthy meal. You may like to work out or go for a brisk hike outside. Healthy rituals will be baked into your romance like a warm apple pie. You’ll love to see your love play out in little acts of genuine care and concern.
all images via pinterest
#love astrology#venus signs#earth signs#relationship astrology#the love reader#virgo venus#capricorn venus#taurus venus#love langauges#love language#acts of service#gift giving#physical touch#astrology
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11/11/22 make a wish Love Birds 🕊♥️ BTS with from a recent test shoot. Photog @the_klark_ Braids by @braidsbycole Creative Director @sademyasia Wardrobe @genesis.Ismandra Stylist @lanairthelabel #melanin #goddess #venusenergy #libra #libragang #braids #tbb #queen #vieagency #lilystalent #agencymodel #queenin (at Atlanta, Georgia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck1d9hhJXh8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#melanin#goddess#venusenergy#libra#libragang#braids#tbb#queen#vieagency#lilystalent#agencymodel#queenin
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**Vintage!! (my Nana’s shirt from the 90s)
RED NEW YORK T-SHIRT
$30.00 USD $25.00 USD!!
price semi negotiable. This shirt has a lot of sentimental value, so I definitely want to give it justice. $6 shipping included in price.
size M. Label pictured below. A little oversized on me, I wear an XS/S.
brand “FRUIT OF THE LOOM”
condition great. Used. Authentic late80s-90s tee. Thick heavy cotton, great material!
images more below - it is recommended to click on images for better quality!!
description This authentic shirt from either the late 80s or 90s was given to me by my (late) Nana from her own personal wardrobe collection. High quality embroidered stitching on front. Cute nyc themed designs hand stitched. Rest In Peace 🕊 The woman had such great style! I just hate red on me. But I know she’d want this shirt to be loved and styled today , and I don’t wear it :( will u?? 💋👠❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
Email me or send me an ask off anon to make an offer! DMs are also open for all!
Anonymous msgs will b ignored
Price is semi firm because this shirt has a lot of sentimental value but i AM willing to negotiate…
US DOMESTIC SHIPPING ONLY
Payment methods include Paypal venmo Cashapp
Feel free to share/reblog‼️❤️🩹
#t shirt#oversized tee#size m#medium#red t shirt#vintage#new york city#red#cute#for sale#fruit of the loom#size medium#tee#red shirt#top
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I lost my earphone but Chupa Chups are delicious。Yumigeta Ako (23.11.14)
Good evening🌝
I'm Yumigeta Ako🛑
Thank you very much for your comments yesterday！
ーLots of you like wafflesー！！
🧇.｡oO(Yaーy Yaーy)
They're so delicious〜 Simple but sweet‼️
They'd be delicious no matter what you eat them with！
Next time I want to try drizzling honey on them 🍯
And And、
For dessert items I like waffles but I also like more proper food items！
Like the shrimp and avocado sandwich thing‼️
🦐🥑🦐🥑🦐🥑🦐🥑🦐🥑🦐🥑🍤
Have you ever tried it？？？？
I like it so much I sometimes go to Starbucks just to buy it！I love the flavour of the avocado with the juicy shrimpー♡
And I like their bread！
What is that kind of bread calledー…
If you spot it in the case next to the register
Give it a go〜
...
Heyy〜 Please listen〜
I lost the right earbud to my wireless earphones〜
It's awful〜
I use my earphones to watch anime or listen to music〜 I use them loads！
So I chose some that had good sound quality… But now I've lost one…
What the heーckー
Plus what's worse
Is that I cleaned my room the other day
I changed my bed sheets and I cleaned under my bed and my desk and my shelves too！
But as I said earlier I mostly my earphones at home
So I was like 「It must be here somewhere！」
But it wasn't it any of the places I looked！！！！
Oh noー no no no
I also changed over my wardrobe…
Where is my earphone。
Please let me know in the comments if there are any places you think it might be。
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Well then it's time for today's 【Gettaa Life】✨
Today I Getted this‼️
Chupa Chupsー🍭🍭🍭
（Without wireless earphones。No No No）
It was my first time buying one in absolutely agesー！
I saw it at the convenience store and suddenly felt an urge to buy it‼️
Cherry🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒
Super cherry〜！！！
It was super delicious…❣️
The cherry flavour was sweeter than the sugar ❤️ I ate it surprisingly quickly so I think I'll bring some on tour to eat backstage for a quick sugar rush〜
I used to be obsessed with the purin flavoured one so I want to have purin flavour next time！
And there's something I want to try！The limited version you can only win in a crane game！
There's Mentos too rightー❗
I often share Mentos with my older sister in the car on the way home from the cinema or garden centre〜！
I have something I'm looking forward to now♪
I Getted 「The start of a sweets obsession」✨
That's all！This has been 【Gettaa Life】！
⋆┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⋆
T/N News and information has not been translated
⋆┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⋆
Tomorrow
17:30〜21:45
「TV Tokyo 60 Festival！Music Festival 2023〜I want to listen live！Showa・Heisei・Reiwa Top 100 Songs〜」
Morning Musume。’23 will be performinーg‼️
Definitely watch it okay〜❤️🔥
...
Well then I'll see you tomorrow！
This has been YumiGettaa Ako！Good night🕊🕊🕊
#hello pro blog#17ki members#17ki#ako yumigeta#getta#gettaa#haruka inoue#hello pro#hello project#hello project blog#yumigeta ako#getageta#Morning Musume#morning musume 23#morning musume blog translations#morning musume blog#morning musume translations#getta translations#hello pro blog translations#hello project blog translations#hello project member#morning musume members#17ki member#japanese idol#japanese#japan#Japanese language#learn japanese#Mm23#idol
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TAG DROP - OUAT SNOW WHITE
🕊 – snow white
🕊 – prince charming
🕊 – henry junior
🕊 – granny
🕊 – red
🕊 – zelena mills
🕊 – regina mills
🕊 – cora mills
🕊 – rumplestiltskin
🕊 – belle
🕊 – princess abigail
🕊 – cinderella
🕊 – the dwarves
🕊 – baelfire
🕊 – victor frankenstien
🕊 – king george
🕊 – emma swan
🕊 – captain hook
🕊 – geppetto
🕊 – graham
🕊 – headcanon
🕊 – wardrobe
🕊 – aesthetic
🕊 – about
🕊 – musings
🕊 – queen eva
🕊 – king leopold
🕊 – peter pan
🕊 – robin hood
🕊 – henry senior
🕊 – the black fairy
#🕊 – snow white#🕊 – prince charming#🕊 – henry junior#🕊 – granny#🕊 – red#🕊 – zelena mills#🕊 – regina mills#🕊 – cora mills#🕊 – rumplestiltskin#🕊 – belle#🕊 – princess abigail#🕊 – cinderella#🕊 – the dwarves#🕊 – baelfire#🕊 – victor frankenstien#🕊 – king george#🕊 – emma swan#🕊 – captain hook#🕊 – geppetto#🕊 – graham#🕊 – headcanon#🕊 – wardrobe#🕊 – aesthetic#🕊 – about#🕊 – musings#🕊 – queen eva#🕊 – king leopold#🕊 – peter pan#🕊 – robin hood#🕊 – henry senior
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TAG DROP - OUAT SNOW WHITE
🕊– snow white
🕊– prince charming
🕊– the dwarves
🕊– king leopold
🕊– emma
🕊– queen eva
🕊– red
🕊– granny
🕊– rumplestiltskin
🕊– prince neal
🕊– victor frankenstien
🕊– geppetto
🕊– zelena
🕊– pinocchio
🕊– blue
🕊– black fairy
🕊– belle
🕊– cora
🕊– ariel
🕊– aesthetic
🕊– musings
🕊– about
🕊– wardrobe
🕊– king george
🕊– hook
🕊– aurora
🕊– mulan
🕊– cruella
🕊– dracula
🕊– johanna
🕊– maleficent
🕊– henry senior
🕊– henry junior
#🕊– snow white#🕊– prince charming#🕊– the dwarves#🕊– king leopold#🕊– emma#🕊– queen eva#🕊– red#🕊– granny#🕊– rumplestiltskin#🕊– prince neal#🕊– victor frankenstien#🕊– geppetto#🕊– zelena#🕊– pinocchio#🕊– blue#🕊– black fairy#🕊– belle#🕊– cora#🕊– ariel#🕊– aesthetic#🕊– musings#🕊– about#🕊– wardrobe#🕊– king george#🕊– hook#🕊– aurora#🕊– mulan#🕊– cruella#🕊– dracula#🕊– johanna
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🐱🕊? :3c
omg cute ones <3
🐱: Do they have pet names for each other, if so what are they? How does their partner feel about their pet name?
they both love love love pet names. ilya doesn’t say a bunch of them in English but in Russian he’ll go all out- a few of the most common are Душенька (sweetheart/soulmate), Птичка (little bird), and Медвежонок (little bear). for the longest time nate has no idea what these mean but they make his heart flutter just from the way ilya says them… as for nate, they’re very shy when it comes to that and will only do so in private. a lot of honey and dear and darling :) sometimes little guy/pal if they’re being silly
🕊️: Give just a general domestic tidbit for em (things they like about each other, routines, habits, and just overall sweet stuff)
ilya hand washes all of nate’s clothes <3 that isn’t too often since they have a whole wardrobe of the same pair of pants and shirt. nate has no idea, he just thinks they’re using a new detergent or something
if ilya is with another one of the boys sometimes nate will just come and literally pick him up and take him away over his shoulder. normally if they’re lonely or need a second opinion on something. and no he will not bring him back
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This is my Phone…. Beauty ain’t They… (See👀… I be PC’in stuff…. = Politically Correctomoundo…)!!! And 👇 Below…. Or is it now above…!?!? Let’s See…. (Obviously I be Bedazzling it Me'Sel... I being an Artistè 'n all... but y'all knew that already... oh Shucks...!!! What more can I say... # !!!) 🕊
This be Me Phone’s Wardrobe…. So…idea… anyone…?!? A Phone rotating rack… Run with It… Ready… Set… !!! & Good Luck…. Unless of Course somebody’s already thought of and patented it… 🤷🏼♀️…. 👍
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💡 She is Spring 🕊 Originally published in the May 2022 issue of #VGXWmagazine, now on our website 🖥📲 https://virtuogenix.online/vgxw-magazine-fashion-editorial-she-is-spring/ #Photographer and #ArtDirector: @tanyalepp Model: @ksenomm #MakeupArtist: @o.mariage Wardrobe: @za_za_fashion #Accessories: @schtuchki_vintage #fashionphotography #fashionphotographer #artisticfashionphotography #fashionmagazine #fashioneditorial #independentmagazine #fashionstory #fineartphotography #fineartfamilyphotography #fineartfashion #vintage https://www.instagram.com/p/CfEn64ds6ae/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#vgxwmagazine#photographer#artdirector#makeupartist#accessories#fashionphotography#fashionphotographer#artisticfashionphotography#fashionmagazine#fashioneditorial#independentmagazine#fashionstory#fineartphotography#fineartfamilyphotography#fineartfashion#vintage
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michael_betznerphotography: 💗🕊Stained🕊💗
Model: @__hakunaa__ 👑
Photos/wardrobe/set design: Me 🤍
Inspo: @zhang_ahuei ☁️
Location: my abode 🏠
Which shot is your fav? 🕊
Via michael_betznerphotography on Instagram, 09/18/2021.
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Classic elegance 🕊 our MIA White Bodycon V Neck Midi Dress is a wonderful staple every wardrobe needs! | Tap on image to shop yours #mateadesigns (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd0YPzvPK1_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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header & icon
about me:
21
she/her and he/him
femme dyke
basics:
#🕊️ -> my posts
##꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ -> faves
dni:
thinspo or ed
terfs and other lgbtphobes
nsfw can interact but if your blog is full of stolen porn you will be blocked
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chaeya zhongluc college au brainrot
wowow im alive what a surprise i know. anyway here are my zhongluc/chaeya headcanons if they were emo teenagers in college :heart_eyes:
WARNIGNF!! i think i made a suggestive joke in here idk i just woke up its 2 PM
Kaeya:
kaeya uses he/they pronouns argue with the wall.
he has such a good fashion sense and has 100% ended up in an alt girls pinterest board at some point
dyes his hair every other week
but still has such healthy hair??? how??
also he is black + desi hes just light skinned and has 2c hair because i said so.
gender
he is gender
hes literally the type to go out partying/drinking almost every friday with his friends (rosaria mostly) but somehow has never gotten lower than an 80% ever
because all of his other time is spent studying and crying
poor guy
but they also takes the most aesthetic notes and has prob tutored childe at some point
SUPER AESTHETIC NOTES
im talking pinterest aesthetic notes
i love him
Childe:
childe is cis and gay (bi?) but he’s okay with he/they pronouns
he has a “i have enough money to have a full wardrobe but dont know how to dress” style
but kaeya teaches him dont worry
kaeya would prob push him back inside his apartment when he sees what childe is wearing
now he is also aesthetic
aesthetic boyfriends
so true
kaeya makes fun of him for being white because same
has TERRIBLE grades but they arent bad enough for him to flunk out
hes actually so smart though he just doesnt pay attention in class cos he knows like half the material alr
cooks 4 kaeya
kaeya makes him stop because everytime he cooks the house smells like fish shit
terrible pickup lines all the time
never asks about kaeyas eyepatch because he is a gentleman and its none of his business
Diluc:
xe/him
emo
xyr also aesthetic but in a totally different way than kaeya
still has a good sense of fashion though
him and kaeya are bickering 24/4
“and thats why you lost an eye”
xe always gets kaeya candy afterwords if xey goes too far
he isnt a monster yk
SPEAKING OF CANDY
xe actually hates sweet things bc crepus is one of those dads who had his kids ask before eating thing sweet
but he loves sour candy for some reason
the reason is xe’s emo thats the reason
so zhongli (the best bf ever) scraps together as much money by the time of their anniversary and gets one of those gift baskets
yk the ones with the teddy bear and sweets n shit
well the sweets are all airhead sour stripes and other sour things
and instead of a teddy bear its an eagle stuffy
cos eagles r his favorite
diluc cries
because he is emo
Zhongli:
he/they/she
they are genderfluid and genderqueer
very smart and rambles a lot about the topics they’re learning, mostly about cultures around the world
has multiple younger siblings
so. so many younger siblings.
theyve literally never gotten below an A- like how
this reminded me about my C in algebra
im crying now
ANYWAY HAAHAHAHha
broke asl
they tutor childe for money because when childe and kaeya started dating they got. uh. “distracted” during their “tutoring” sessions
ill leave it at that
and with this money he collects rocks and buys little things for diluc here and there
even though diluc can afford it for himself
its the thought that counts
pretty good fashion sense; hes one of those “softboys” with the brown and yellow aesthetic
them and diluc are a 🕯 🧸 ☁ 🪐 🕊 🤎 🌙 and 🩸⭕💉🩸🍷👹👺 duo
so cute
#kaeya#genshin impact kaeya#kaeya alberich#childe#tartagila#tartagalia genshin impact#diluc#diluc ragnvindr#diluc genshin impact#zhongli#zhong li#zhongli genshin impact#genshin impact#genshin headcanons#headcanon#chaeya#childe x kaeya#zhongluc#zhongli x diluc#brainrot
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