#scrap of my mans from yesterday

[namazunomegami]

“Kindly consider the question: what would your good do if evil did not exist, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? Shadows are cast by objects and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. Trees and living beings also have shadows. Do you want to skin the whole earth, tearing all the trees and living things off it, because of your fantasy of enjoying bare light? You’re a fool.” - The Master and Margarita

[joemama-2]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 & 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚

・❥・ pairing: veteran! levi x fem reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: known as ‘marley’s darling’, your father, a high-ranking marleyan diplomat, introduced you as his pride and joy since you were out the womb. dazzling smiles, coy and subtly flirtatious remarks, an innocent but seductive allure that keeps you in the eyes of the public. with concerns for your safety, your father hires levi ackerman as your personal bodyguard, a war hero to some, a warm criminal to others. the same man who fought against your people.

・❥・ wc: 9k

・❥・ tags/warnings: age gap, levi is in his late thirties, reader is 26, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol, drugs, war veteran! levi, reader takes inspo from marilyn monroe, mentions of ptsd, depression, death, post! war, prejudice, guns, knives, violence, reader is marleyan, slow burn, sorta opposites attract?, dark themes, cussing, gross men, no titans! modern au, may have some canon divergent elements (e.g. levi has both legs still lol)

・❥・ series masterlist < next chapter

The sound of gravel cracks underneath Levi’s shoes, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. It’s a sunny day in Eldia, he’s almost begun to miss this place. It’s much more different than Marley, not that he’s complaining. He’s only been here for three days, yesterday was his last. For some reason, he’s dreading the plane back. A sigh escapes his lips, shaking his head at the melancholic intrusions. He stops in his tracks when he hears a tiny hurdle of giggles and whispers. Looking over his shoulder is a small group of children around the age of five or six, looking up at him with wide, starry eyes. He can see the way their gaze flickers across his features, going from the long scar across his face to the ghostly, white eyeball of his. Some hold their smiles back, while others gasp in child-like delight. 

He turns to face them fully, crouching down to the children’s height. 

“H-Hi…” a timid girl greets. “Are you—”

“You’re Mr. Levi!” a much more brave young boy blurts out, his toothy grin widening. “You look cooler than the books!”

Levi’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at the boy’s enthusiasm, his usual stoic expression faltering for a moment. He straightens up, towering over them once again, though his gaze softens as he studies the children.

"Mr. Levi, right?" the timid girl asks again, her voice barely a whisper.

Levi’s heart skips a beat, a strange, unfamiliar warmth flooding him as he nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The children seem to surge forward as if they’ve all had the same unspoken idea, their eyes practically glowing with excitement. The boy in front pulls out a little notebook and a small pen from his pocket. “Can you sign it? Can you sign it for us?!” His voice is filled with such an innocent eagerness that for a moment, Levi just stares at the child, a little taken aback.

“You want my autograph?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s not sure what to make of this situation.

The children nod eagerly, the timid girl now clutching a scrap of paper between her tiny hands. Levi takes the paper from her, glancing over it for a brief moment before scribbling his name, his signature jagged and rough, just like everything else about him. “Here,” he hands it back to her, the girl’s eyes lighting up like she’s just been handed the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Levi!” she squeaks, bouncing on her heels. “You're our hero!”

Levi straightens up again, his hand returning to his coat pocket as he glances over the group. They stare at him for a while, their eyes filled with admiration, something he hasn't seen in a long time. But it’s not the kind of admiration he’s used to—it's pure, innocent, almost reverent. He can feel the weight of their gaze, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother him. “Well, I’m not really a hero,” Levi mutters, running a hand through his hair. “But thanks.” He turns his gaze away from them, feeling that odd discomfort creeping in. “You kids should get back to playing, yeah?”

The children nod excitedly, and as the last few gremlins get their signature, they scurry away. 

He shakes his head in a slight fondness, turning back around to continue his trek back to the private plane waiting for him. Seems being a veteran has pretty good perks, if he does say so himself. The hangar isn’t too far away, luckily. He’s already had his morning cup of tea from the shop he used to always frequent before moving, same owners, same tacky furniture—nothing could get better than that. 

He can see a few men in the distance, seemingly getting his plane ready. 

Levi continues to walk toward the hangar, his mind begins to wander. The children’s bright smiles and excited whispers echo in his head, their innocent admiration stirring something within him. He hadn’t been called a hero in years. Most people only saw the scarred, battle-worn soldier who had fought for survival. The idea of being a symbol of hope to anyone was something he'd long abandoned. But there they were—those little faces full of wonder, looking at him like he was more than just a man who’d lived through hell. His lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head. Maybe it was just the way they were raised, seeing heroes in simple things, not yet tainted by the harshness of reality.

As he gets closer to the plane, one of the men spots him and waves. “Mr. Ackerman!” the man calls out. “Everything’s ready for your departure. We’ve got a clear flight ahead.”

Levi nods, not in the mood for small talk but acknowledging the man’s efforts. He’s almost there—almost back to the place he’s tried to forget sometimes. Marley. He tenses at the thought. There’s nothing left for him here in Eldia—not really. The place is a relic of the past, and he's nothing more than a passing memory of a world that no longer exists. Besides, he has two other little rascals waiting for him back in Marley.

He stops just short of the plane, eyes narrowing as the men finish their preparations. The sound of metal clanging and the hum of engines fill the air, but his thoughts are elsewhere. It feels like a strange kind of irony, returning to Marley, where the tension between Eldia and Marley still simmers just beneath the surface, a conflict that’s far from over. But it’s not his fight anymore. Of course, things probably will never be the same, considering just how many lives were taken in the war. A war spanning over nine years that only ended five years ago.

As the men begin to board the plane, Levi lingers, staring out at the horizon. He can almost see the faint outline of the place he left behind. His throat tightens. He’d been a different man then, a soldier with a cause. Now, he was just trying to survive, trying to forget. Humanity’s strongest.

He pushes the thoughts aside, stepping onto the plane as the door closes behind him. The world outside becomes a blur as the engines roar to life. His seat is cold and uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care about comfort. He’d long ago learned how to endure, how to keep moving forward. He settles back in the comfy chair the plane has to offer, opening the glass of whiskey that’s already been placed out on the table for him.

Giving himself a pour, he brings the rim to his lips and sips. A small hum of satisfaction sounds from him. 

“Drinkin’ already?”

Levi stiffens, lips contorting into a hard-set frown. Kenny, uncaring of his niece’s animosity towards him, sits leisurely across from him. He takes his hat off and leans back with a relaxed sigh, lifting his legs onto the table between them and crossing his arms over his chest. “The hell are you doing here?” 

Kenny scoffs. “Spending time with you, obviously.”

“I’d rather eat shit than be in your presence,” Levi gruffs back, eyes narrowing at his uncle. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a solo trip.”

“Was,” Kenny corrects. “Besides, got some business on the other side. Figured I’d hop a ride with you.”

Levi’s fingers tighten around his glass, the amber liquid swirling inside as his gaze locks onto Kenny, who seems entirely unfazed by the hostility radiating off Levi. The man across from him is annoyingly at ease, as always. A smirk dances across his uncle’s lips, a little too self-assured for Levi’s liking.

“Business?” Levi repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “What kind of business? Last I checked, you didn’t exactly have a legitimate operation.”

Kenny’s eyes twinkle as if he’s relishing in the tension between them. He leans forward, and the casualness of the movement only serves to irritate Levi more. “You’re not the only one who can make deals, kid,” he drawls, the condescending tone sharp enough to cut through the stale air between them. “We’ve got some... mutual interests. Thought I’d tag along, see if you might actually get your hands dirty for once.”

Levi scowls but doesn’t respond immediately. He takes another sip of his drink, trying to swallow down the wave of frustration building in his chest. The last thing he wants is to be involved in any scheme that Kenny’s tangled up in. But, as always, Kenny knows exactly how to push his buttons, and Levi knew better than to think he’d be able to escape this.

“Not interested,” Levi mutters, leaning back in his seat, eyes flicking toward the window, though his mind is far from the view outside. “I’m not here for a job, nothing else. Keep your shady dealings to yourself.”

Kenny chuckles, the sound a low rumble that seems to settle uneasily in Levi’s stomach. “Right, forgot you’re Mr. High ‘n Mighty now. Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“You’re a fool. An old fool.” He scoots the whiskey bottle closer when he sees Kenny reaching for it.

“Oh, give me a break,” Kenny rolls his eyes, reaching forward and taking the bottle from his niece’s grip. He uncaps it and nonchalantly sips straight from the bottle. Levi doesn’t bother holding back the disgusted noise that leaves his throat, but says nothing and focuses his attention on the window as the plane begins to take off.

For a second, there’s silence. 

Until Kenny opens his big mouth again. 

“So…really not interested, huh?”

“No.”

“How come? Ain’t that compensated money the government lends ‘ya not that much? How the hell you even survivin’?” 

Levi’s gaze sharpens at Kenny’s words, his grip tightening on the armrest. He didn’t need to explain himself, especially not to someone like Kenny. The audacity of the man still gets under his skin, even after all these years. But Levi knows better than to take the bait. “I'm surviving fine,” Levi mutters, his voice cold and clipped. He turns his head slightly, eyeing his uncle with a glare that would freeze most men in place, but Kenny only grins wider, clearly enjoying the discomfort Levi tries so hard to hide. “I have my shop, I don’t want blood money.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I mean, the way I see it, you ain’t exactly living large," Kenny says, tapping the neck of the bottle against his leg like a rhythm he’s got memorized. "Could use a little extra padding, if you catch my drift."

Levi huffs under his breath, a dry laugh escaping him. "I'm fine," he repeats, louder this time, not bothering to explain any further. The question, though, lingers in the back of his mind: how much longer can he keep doing this? How much longer can he stay out of the kind of deals Kenny’s offering?

Kenny’s eyes narrow, sizing him up, and for a moment, Levi feels the weight of his uncle’s scrutiny. The man knows Levi better than he lets on—knows his breaking points, knows what makes him tick. And that only makes Levi more defensive. The older man lets up a bit, sighing to himself and grumbling something Levi can’t quite make out. He removes his legs from the table, facing Levi head-on. “Listen, it’s not…that bloody, alright?”

“Sure,” Levi simply says, checking his watch. Two more hours to go. Dammit. 

“It ain’t,” Kenny reaffirms, scooting toward the edge of his seat. He subtly looks around, as if afraid the small crew of the plane might be listening. “Just a tiny gig. Could help you out.”

“How many more times do I have to tell you no, old man?”

“As if you’re not gettin’ there your damn self, you little brat,” Kenny spits out. He huffs, taking out a crumpled-up sheet of newspaper from his back pocket and flattening it out onto the table. 

Levi peers down, face indifferent. A few moments of silence pass with Levi expecting some sort of explanation. When none comes, he unfortunately takes the bait. “What?”

“See here,” Kenny taps a long finger onto the paper. “A…client of mine, you could say. Mr. Makoto Suzuki. Topshot back over there, heard of ‘im?”

Levi’s eyes flicker down to the paper, his stomach sinking at the mention of the name. He doesn’t want to show any sign of recognition, but he can feel the subtle tension rising in his chest. Makoto Suzuki. The name isn’t foreign to him, but it’s a name that brings too many memories—too many connections to things he’s tried to forget. Levi’s lips tighten into a thin line, but he says nothing, his gaze flickering back to the newspaper. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Levi mutters. He’s been around long enough to know that the big players in the game—men like Makoto—always find their way into the darker corners of the world. “Anyone with a brain has.”

“Correct,” Kenny grins, his gold canine on display. “Well, Mr. Suzuki here has a very special package he holds oh so dear to his heart.” Kenny’s finger moves slightly over to the right, and Levi’s eyes follow. A young girl, maybe in her twenties. Smiling at the camera, displaying her pearly whites. Levi can make out the group that must’ve been hurdled around you and your father while the picture was taken. Makoto’s arm is around your waist in what appears to be a protective way. “His fine piece of a daughter.”

“Makoto’s daughter,” Levi says, the words coming out gruffly, like he’s testing the air. Of course, he knows who you and your father are. “Why are you showing me this?”

Kenny leans back, eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t decipher. He takes a moment, savoring the tension in the air before answering, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Because her father’s paying a pretty penny to keep her pretty. Been buggin’ me about it for a while now, but I ain’t no babysitter.”

“Neither am I,” Levi scoffs, setting his glass down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking anything, especially from people like them.”

Kenny’s eyes flicker with an almost predatory gleam as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “You know how things work, Levi. Money talks. And Mr. Suzuki's got plenty of it. He's desperate. His daughter’s a political asset, no different than a pawn on a chessboard. But she’s got a problem—she’s too... distracting, if you catch my drift. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll see the opportunity here.”

Levi shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he stares at the picture, your smiling face glaring back at him. The thought of being involved in any situation with Makoto Suzuki’s daughter—especially in the way Kenny’s implying—turns his stomach. He’s fought his entire life to distance himself from this kind of world, from men like Makoto, who wield their power like a weapon and treat their own flesh and blood like assets. He snorts, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not a damn babysitter, Kenny. And I sure as hell don’t get mixed up in that kind of business. I’m a civilian now, it’s staying that way.”

Kenny’s grin widens, as if he’s been waiting for this exact response. He leans back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table. “That’s the problem, Levi,” he mutters, eyes narrowing. “You think you can just walk away from all of this. You think you’re done. But the world doesn’t work that way, not for people like you. You don’t just get to put your hands up and say, ‘I’m done,’ because someone like Suzuki? He doesn’t give a damn about your past. He sees what you can do, and he’ll make sure you know it.”

Levi’s eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s heard it before, the way people try to pull him back into the chaos. He’s been fighting it for years, but it’s always lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. “I don’t give a damn what Suzuki thinks,” Levi mutters, his voice cold as steel. “You know what kind of man I am. I’m not some hired weapon anymore. I’m happy where I’m at now.”

Kenny laughs, a low, rasping sound that seems to crawl under Levi’s skin. “And yet, here we are, aren’t we? You’re still the same guy, Levi. You’re just pretending not to be. When the world’s out to get you, you can’t just sit on your hands and pray it’ll go away. You’ll need allies, whether you want ‘em or not.”

Levi clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wants to reach across the table and throttle Kenny, but he knows that wouldn’t change a damn thing. The man’s words ring too true. The world doesn’t let people like him go so easily. It’s a cold, unforgiving reality. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze still locked on the picture of you and your father. The idea of getting involved with Makoto Suzuki’s business makes his skin crawl. He’s been there and done that—used as a tool in someone else’s game. He refuses to go back.

“I’m not your guy for this,” Levi says, his voice unwavering, but the unease in his chest grows. “Find someone else to play your damn games.”

Kenny groans and rolls his eyes. “Stubborn lil’ thing, huh? It’s extra cash, Levi.”

“Does it look like I care?” Levi cooly replies. “I’m not doing it. He can get a clean Marleyan to do it.”

“What? Ya think that’s it? He won’t let you watch his daughter ‘cause you ain’t Marleyan?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? What smart man would employ someone who fought against his country to be up close and personal with his daughter? We’re still a devil to some, remember?”

Kenny leans forward again, his eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t quite place. The older man seems almost amused by Levi’s firm resistance, as if he’s testing a limit he already knows well. He taps the table once more, the sound cutting through the tension like a ticking clock. “You’re a real piece of work, Levi,” Kenny mutters with a smirk. “But you’re forgetting something. Mr. Suzuki’s desperate. And desperation… well, it makes people do things they wouldn’t usually consider. And in this case, what he’s offerin’ isn’t just money—it’s leverage.”

Levi freezes at the word "leverage." The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as his gaze snaps up to meet his uncle’s, suspicion and anxiety coiling tightly in his chest. “Leverage?” Levi repeats, voice low, barely above a whisper. He knows too well what that means—Kenny’s not talking about a job offer anymore. This is something bigger, darker.

Kenny’s grin widens, but it’s not a pleasant smile. It’s the grin of someone who knows exactly how to pull the strings. He leans in, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You ain’t gotta choose the game, Levi. You’re already in it. Suzuki’s got dirt. Big dirt. And if you don’t play nice, that dirt’s gonna find its way to your doorstep, sooner or later.”

Levi’s heart races as he absorbs the weight of Kenny’s words. He can feel the familiar weight of the past creeping back in, like a shadow he can’t shake. He’s fought so hard to stay out of this world—this world of manipulation, of dangerous men who make deals and break lives without a second thought. But it’s all starting to feel inescapable. “You’re saying if I don’t help him, he’ll use whatever he’s got on me against me?” Levi’s voice is steady, but there’s a tightness in his chest that betrays his growing unease. He feels like he’s already caught in the web—he’s just waiting for the final tug.

Kenny nods slowly, that sinister glint in his eye never leaving. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s already been planting the chip in my damn ear about you. And you know better than anyone—someone like Suzuki? He don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been. You’re useful to him, Levi. You’ve always been useful. And now, you’re gonna be useful to his daughter.”

Levi’s fingers twitch involuntarily, a dark, suffocating feeling building in the pit of his stomach. He wants to scream, to smash the table between them, but he stays silent. His mind races, searching for any escape, any way out of this mess. “You can’t make me do this,” Levi says, his words low but firm. “I’m not going back. I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn.”

Kenny leans back in his seat, clicking his tongue. “You’re already a pawn, Levi. You just haven’t realized it yet. You’re surrounded by players who know how to move the pieces. You just happen to be the one they’re comin’ for.”

Levi feels his throat tighten, the cold reality of Kenny’s words hitting harder than he wants to admit. He’s trapped. No matter how far he tries to run, no matter how much he wants to be out of it, the world he’s left behind has a way of finding him. And now, it’s threatening to drag him back in. He scrubs a hand down his face.

“Think about it,” Kenny continues, his voice almost soothing, as if he’s offering advice. “You ain’t have to do much. Just keep an eye on Suzuki’s little girl. Protect her. Get a few hands dirty, but nothing that’ll land ‘ya in trouble. Think about the money. Think about what you can do with that money. Think about the doors it could open.”

Levi looks down at the picture again, at your smile, at the image of a life he knows he doesn’t belong in. But he knows his uncle is right about one thing—the world doesn’t let people like him go that easily. And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as simple as walking away. The weight of the decision presses down on him like a lead weight. He wants to punch something, to refuse, to get off this plane, never look back and stay his sorry ass in Eldia. But the words get stuck in his throat.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Kenny asks, voice heavy with expectation.

Levi doesn’t respond right away. He stares out the window, the soft hum of the plane filling his ears, as the choice looms over him like a storm waiting to break.

The second the plane has landed and the door opens, he’s striding down the ramp. Mood soured and the whiskey does nothing but make him more adept to just how much of a damn headache his forsaken uncle. Two figures in the distance momentarily ease his grumpiness. They familiarly approach him. 

“Levi! How was it?” Gabi asks first, striding forward to give him a tight hug around his waist. 

“Careful,” he murmurs, though his hand pats lightly at her back. “Nothing interesting. What about you two? Held up well?”

“Sure did,” Falco responds, smiling. “Shop’s doing fine, no hiccups.”

Levi nods and hums in approval. Gabi removes her arms from him, just about to ask another question when Kenny’s scratchy voice breaks the atmosphere. “Oh, look at that. Forgot about these two monsters.” He approaches with a crooked smile, head tilting and leaning against Levi. “Huh, you both are smaller than I re—”

“Shut up,” Levi cuts him off, shrugging him off. “And don’t talk to them.”

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist,” he says, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. “Just makin’ conversation.”

Levi ignores him, glancing back at Gabi and Falco, who exchange wary looks before Gabi’s nose wrinkles in annoyance. “Who’s this old man?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Just an annoying bastard,” Levi mutters.

Kenny smirks. “You wound me, shorty.”

Levi clicks his tongue, already regretting letting Kenny tag along. “You’re not staying long, are you?”

Kenny grins, all teeth and trouble. “Nah, just for a drink or two. Maybe I’ll even stop by the shop, see what kinda scam you’re runnin’.”

Levi’s eye twitches, but Falco steps in before the argument escalates. “We should head back. You look tired, Levi.”

He is tired—tired of this, of the headache that is Kenny, of the weight pressing on his shoulders. He casts one last glance at the man before exhaling sharply. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Kenny just chuckles, watching as the trio walks ahead, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He follows at a distance, whistling a tune that grates on Levi’s ears. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Did you bring us anything back, Levi?” Gabi asks, looking up at him. 

Levi exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Tch. What do I look like, Santa?”

Gabi pouts, nudging his side. “Come on, not even a little souvenir?”

Falco chuckles. “I told you he wouldn’t.”

Levi rolls his eyes, but after a brief pause, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. He tosses it to Gabi, who catches it with a surprised blink.

Her face lights up. “Wait—you actually got me something?”

“Just open it,” Levi grumbles, ignoring the way Kenny is still whistling behind them.

Gabi rips the paper off, revealing a sleek pocketknife with an intricate engraving on the handle. She whistles, running her fingers over it. “This is so cool!”

Falco’s eyes widen. “A-A knife, Levi? Really?”

“She’s gotta learn how to defend herself,” Levi mutters. “Can’t have her relying on you all the time.”

Gabi grins, flipping the blade open and inspecting it. “I love it. Thanks, Levi.”

Levi shrugs, glancing at Falco. “And for you.” He reaches into his coat again and hands over a small box.

Falco hesitates before taking it, opening it carefully. Inside is a simple but finely crafted wristwatch. He blinks, then looks up at Levi, eyes wide. “This is… really nice.”

“Better than being late all the damn time,” Levi says, side-eyeing him.

Falco rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “I guess I deserve that.”

Kenny lets out an exaggerated sigh behind them. “Damn, no gift for your dear ol’ uncle? That hurts, Levi.”

Levi doesn’t even turn around. “Your gift is me not punching you in the face.”

Kenny cackles, and Gabi snorts as she tucks her knife into her pocket. Falco just shakes his head, slipping the watch onto his wrist. Despite his exhaustion, Levi feels the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. The walk to the tea shop only takes about ten minutes. Falco takes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the door, allowing the group to step in. Kenny looks around, nodding slowly with a small whistle. “Cozy in here.”

Levi glances around, already feeling a sense of peace settle in the small, warmly lit space. The gentle scent of freshly brewed tea fills the air, mixing with the earthy tones of wood and herbs. The walls are lined with shelves of tea jars, some familiar, others he hasn’t seen before. A few potted plants sit near the windows, softening the atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Falco says, setting his bag down behind the counter and turning to face the group. “We’ve been getting a lot more regulars lately. Gabi’s been keeping things running smoothly.”

Gabi grins proudly, twirling a strand of her hair. “What can I say? I’ve got skills.” She gestures to the chairs by the window. “Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I’ll brew some fresh tea for you.”

“Not a tea kinda man,” Kenny waves her off. 

“I meant Levi,” she raises a brow, looking Kenny up and down before going back around the counter. Falco follows her. His eye twitches, huffing to himself and turning to see Levi sitting in one of the open chairs with a small grunt. “Damn kid’s a smart-ass.”

“Good thing she is.”

Kenny sits beside Levi, tapping his foot against the floor. “Alright, about the—”

“Not here,” Levi is quick to shut him down, sending the older man a certain look. “Hold on.” Gabi comes back with Levi’s desired tea, along with Falco setting down a small report of how things have been since he’s been gone. Levi nods and thanks them quietly, sipping the tea. “You two, head outside for a second.”

Gabi and Falco simultaneously tilt their heads in confusion. But Falco speaks up first. “What? But we haven’t even had time to—”

“Outside.”

Gabi opens her mouth to protest, but Falco quickly cuts in with a muttered, “We’ll be outside,” before she can say anything more. The two exchange a glance, clearly confused, but they gather their things without further questioning. Gabi gives Levi an uncertain look before following Falco out the door.

Levi waits until the door shuts behind them before turning his attention back to Kenny. The air between them tightens instantly, the tension thickening as Levi sets his tea down on the table with a soft clink. He hesitates for a few seconds, unsure if he should entertain his idiotic uncle. But he has a feeling that no matter what, he’ll be a thorn in his side. “How much?”

Kenny grins. “Confidential, of course. Until you accept the job.”

Levi’s gaze hardens. “I’m not a fucking bodyguard, Kenny. I’m not some hired muscle, and I’m definitely not interested in babysitting some spoiled brat—no offense to her, but that’s not my scene.”

Kenny’s eyes gleam with amusement, the kind that makes Levi this much closer to punching him in the face. “That’s exactly why they need you. You’re not the kind of guy who takes orders, and that’s what she needs. Someone who can think for himself, who won’t just bow to her family’s whims. You know how it is in that world, Levi. People like her, they’re walking targets.”

Levi’s eyes flicker briefly to the door, as though expecting the others to walk back in, but the room is still empty. He rubs his temple, trying to keep his frustration in check. “And what makes you think I’d give a damn about protecting some rich girl? I’m not in the business of charity, especially not for people like her.”

Kenny leans forward, his voice lowering, almost coaxing. “You’re in the business of keeping your head above water, right? Getting by. This job? It’s a chance for you to cash in. You’re good at what you do, and I think you’ll find this… lucrative. Plus, you know it’s not asking for much. Just a little loyalty to the Suzuki family.”

Levi’s fingers twitch, the temptation gnawing at him. He’s always been a pragmatist, and this… this could solve a lot of problems, not just for him but for the people he cares about. But Kenny knows that too. “You’re asking for too much.” Levi finally meets his uncle’s gaze, his voice sharp, but controlled. “And you know I don’t work on other people’s terms.”

Kenny’s smile falters for a split second, but then he leans back again, his expression returning to that smug, confident air. “You’re still thinking like the old Levi. You’ve got a chance here to step up and make a real name for yourself besides ‘the strongest.’ You don’t have to play by their rules, you just need to keep her alive and out of trouble. It’s not that hard.”

However, Levi is still finding it hard to just give in so easily. He’s never been a bodyguard, but is being a soldier that much different? Just protect, right? However, he remembers your father; how couldn’t he? The little meeting that was held after the bomb Eldia dropped on Marley that led to a cease fire not too long after. He remembers the way he regarded him and his peers with concealed mirth in his eyes, clenched hands that made it known how much he despised losing and coming to terms with ‘the devils’. He hadn’t trusted him then, and he doesn’t trust him now. So why the hell is this same man trying to employ him?

He’s never met you, of course. Levi isn’t much to delve into media or the higher-ups. Just simple bits of you here and there is what Levi is accustomed to. All he knows about you is what he’s seen in passing—brief news clips, vague mentions, a face in the crowd of the powerful, the kind of people he’d rather ignore. He doesn’t pay attention to the higher-ups or the media, and certainly not to the rich and pampered. That’s always been a world Levi keeps his distance from.

Kenny, sensing his niece’s hesitance, softens up just a tiny bit. “Listen, why don’t you come with me tonight? Supposed to be meetin’ up with the man himself at some club; maybe you can get a feel of him there?”

Levi’s expression hardens, and he mutters under his breath, “I’ve never trusted him.”

Kenny, watching him carefully, seems to understand the unspoken question. “I get it. You’ve got a history with that man, and I can’t blame you for that. But this isn’t about him, kid. It’s about you—your future. You could save up for yourself and find a better place than some shitty, one bed apartment. If you stick to what you know, you’ll always be stuck in the past.”

Levi looks up, meeting Kenny’s eyes. There’s no warmth in his stare, only cold calculation. “What’s the catch, Kenny? You want me to babysit a rich girl to what? To get closer to him?”

Kenny holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing like that, Levi. I told you, this is about keeping her alive. That’s all. The rest will follow. But you’ve gotta see it for yourself. You think you can read people? Come with me tonight. We’re meeting with your old friend at a club, and you can get a feel for the man.”

Levi’s gaze flickers toward the window, the streets outside bustling with life, and the idea of stepping into that world, even for a moment, gnaws at him. He’s been out of that circle for a long time—he doesn’t want to dive back into it. He enjoys his civilian life. But Kenny’s offer is tempting. Too tempting. He could get a sense of what was really going on and see if it was worth his time or if it was just another trap. Levi stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He doesn’t say anything at first, his back to Kenny as he pulls his coat tighter around his frame. The weight of the decision is pressing down on him, but he knows that if he turns Kenny down now, the man won’t stop. He’s relentless.

“Fine,” Levi says, his voice steady. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to walk away from this thinking it’s anything more than a job. And I’m not playing nice.”

Kenny’s grin returns, more satisfied now as he stands. “That’s all I’m asking, Levi. Just keep your head straight. We’re in for a long game here, and you’ve got a front-row seat.”

Levi doesn’t respond. He understands he’s walking into unknown territory, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for it. But one thing is for sure—he’s going to find out what kind of man your father really is. And if he’s going to protect you, he’ll need to know exactly what—or who he’s up against.

A high-end gentlemen’s club was not what he was expecting. Tucked behind an unsuspecting bar, the neon blue cursive letters that spell out “The Silk Rose”. They flicker softly in the darkness of the not-so-early night, casting an almost dreamy-like glow onto the concrete below. The street outside is quiet, unassuming—nothing to hint at the kind of opulence that lies within. Levi eyes the sign, then glances at Kenny with mild irritation.

“This your idea of a professional meeting?” he mutters.

Kenny just smirks, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “You’d be surprised how much business gets done between overpriced scotch and soft lighting. Besides,” he adds with a wink, “Suzuki likes a certain… ambiance.”

Levi scoffs, and the scowl on his face deepens. Still, he follows Kenny inside, the brute bouncer at the door giving them a once-over before stepping aside wordlessly.

Inside, the contrast is immediate. Velvet-draped walls, soft jazz humming low over the speakers, and golden chandeliers that twinkle like stars overhead. It smells like expensive perfume and power. The kind of place meant to impress men who’ve forgotten what it’s like to hear the word no.

Women in silk dresses that barely pass for clothing drift across the room like ghosts, each movement precise, curated. But the staff aren’t the only ones dressed to kill. Men in tailored suits lounge in leather booths, cigars in hand, speaking in hushed tones. This is a playground for the elite, the dangerous, and the untouchable. Hushed conversations, soft laughs, teasing touches shared between those around aren’t what makes Levi’s nose crinkle with distaste. It’s the look in the men’s eyes that does. The way they eye every woman as if they are a toy to be played with—as if they’re the prey. No doubt the women here have caught on to the predatory nature the men wordlessly exude, yet they’re still here. In a sense, it almost begins to remind him of his mother.

Though he’d like to think she had at least a little more self-respect. 

Kenny leads him toward a private room upstars and in the back, past thick velvet curtains. “Suzuki’s already here. Try not to look like you’re gonna kill someone.”

Levi’s jaw ticks. “No promises.”

Two tall men are standing, dressed in all black suits, on either side of the velvet red curtains that separate the wolves from their leader. The one on the right steps up, chest puffed out. He eyes both Kenny and Levi before speaking. “This area’s blocked off. Head back down.”

Kenny doesn’t break stride. He simply reaches into his coat, flashing something—an emblem, a card, maybe even just the weight of his name. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make the guard hesitate.

“He’s expecting us,” Kenny says, voice smooth but with an edge that suggests he’s not in the mood to repeat himself. “Now step aside.”

The guard’s jaw tightens, and he glances toward the other man, who gives a small nod. With a reluctant sigh, the first one steps back, tugging the curtain aside.

Kenny winks at him on the way in. “Atta boy.”

Levi follows his uncle, his boots nearly silent against the plush carpet. His eyes flicker over the details of the room like a sniper zeroing in. He can feel it—every inch of this place is designed to disarm, to distract. And yet, his guard is higher than ever. The private room is dimly lit, the atmosphere intimate, suffocating. A low table sits in the center, encircled by deep sapphire couches that seem to swallow anyone who sits in them. The scent of aged whiskey, cigar smoke, and some cloying cologne hits his nose instantly.

And there he is.

Makoto Suzuki sits like a man who’s owned the room since birth, legs crossed, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch. His suit is dark navy, custom, his tie just loose enough to suggest control disguised as ease. His grey hair is styled neatly back, and his auburn eyes are trained on the swirling dark liquid in his glass. There's a woman perched next to him, draped across the couch more like decoration than companion. She doesn't even look up. There’s four more of his henchmen standing beside the couch, two more seated at the tiny table in the corner engaged in a small game of cards. 

At their arrival, they all look up. 

Makoto’s gaze lifts slowly, and when it lands on Levi, something in it shifts. Calculating. Amused. Maybe even mildly impressed. He doesn’t stand, of course. Men like him don’t need to.

“Kenny,” he greets smoothly, lifting his glass in a faux toast. “And the infamous Levi Ackerman.” His voice is like smoke—polished, poisonous. ​​Makoto gestures toward the open couch across from him, entirely unfazed by the cold stare he's receiving. “You’re taller than I remember.”

Levi doesn’t blink or sit. “You’re exactly how I remember.”

Kenny stifles a chuckle, plopping himself down on the couch and pouring himself a drink. “Let’s keep it civil, boys.”

Makoto lets the jab roll off him like mist off marble. He leans forward slightly, that same damned calm expression etched across his face. “So, Kenny, how’ve you been?”

Kenny exhales like he’s just settled into his favorite recliner, legs spread, glass already swirling in his hand. “Busy. Making deals. Babysitting this one,” he jerks a thumb toward Levi without looking at him. “Same old.”

Makoto’s smile twitches—just enough to acknowledge the remark without really responding to it. His attention, however, doesn’t drift far from Levi. The kind of look a lion gives a stray dog: amused, but watchful. “And yet, you dragged him here. Which means he knows he’s not just here for the ambiance.”

Levi still hasn’t sat. He doesn’t intend to—not yet. The air in this room is thick with the kind of arrogance that turns his stomach. This man, this entire place, reeks of money and power layered like cologne over something rotting beneath.

Kenny, unbothered, tops off his glass and throws back a sip before answering. “Told you I’d find you someone. Someone you could trust to keep your girl safe.”

Makoto’s brow lifts, gaze sharpening. “My daughter is not some damsel in distress.”

Levi’s voice cut in, low and steady, “Then why does she need a bodyguard?”

Makoto’s eyes narrow just slightly. Not insulted—curious. Testing him. “Not many people speak to me like that, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi doesn’t flinch. “Not many people interest me enough to bother speaking to at all.”

There’s a long pause, heavy but not quite tense—just enough to let the power dynamics settle. The woman beside Makoto finally shifts after he makes a subtle shrug of his shoulder, and she quietly excuses herself as she rises and disappears through a side door, unnoticed by anyone but Levi.

Kenny raises a brow and shoots Levi a warning glance that reads behave, but he doesn’t say a word.

Makoto finally leans back, the lazy smile returning to his lips. “I don’t trust easily. You know this. But your name,” he gestures vaguely in the air, “it still carries weight. Especially with them.” His eyes flicker with meaning—whether it’s to the press, politicians, or war-hardened enemies, it’s unclear. Probably all of the above. “My daughter is… unique. She’s sweet, but not stupid. Pretty, but not a pushover. She doesn’t know what’s circling her yet, and that’s exactly why she needs protection. She knows her role, and I intend to have her keep playing that.”

Levi folds his arms. “Then hire a soldier.”

“I did,” Makoto replies simply. “I hired you.”

Something sharp passes between them. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.

Kenny sighs, slumping further into the couch. “You gonna stand all night like a coat rack, or you gonna sit and listen?”

Levi eyes the couch like it might bite, then slowly moves to perch on the edge—not relaxed, not open. Always ready. His stare stays locked on Makoto.

Makoto studies him in turn, then finally gives a small, tight smile. “You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”

 “So have you.”

The smile lingers, but it doesn’t quite reach Makoto’s eyes. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

A silence settles again. Somewhere outside the door, the jazz track shifts to something slower, more sultry. Time continues as if the world doesn’t realize two predators just agreed to circle each other, for now. Then Makoto raises his glass again, eyes gleaming. “To the devil you know.”

Kenny chuckles, clinks his glass. Levi doesn't move. He just stares. Because to him, the devils have always worn suits like this one.

“How much?” He finally asks.

Makoto leisurely sips his drink, setting the glass onto the table between them. 

He leans back, fingers steepling loosely in front of him, head tilted slightly like he’s just been waiting for Levi to ask. “How much is her life worth to me?” he muses aloud, as if the question is more philosophical than transactional. “More than any sum I could ever offer. But you, Mr. Ackerman—you’re not a man who wastes time with sentiment.”

Levi’s silence confirms it.

Makoto chortles. “Ten thousand a week. A private penthouse suite. Round-the-clock access to every resource you’d need—transport, intel, weapons, contacts. And no leash. You work how you want, answer to no one but me.”

Kenny whistles low beside him. “That’s one hell of a package, even for you.”

Levi doesn’t look impressed. “Sounds like you expect a war.”

The atmosphere is a live wire—thrumming between them, sparking with old blood and new stakes. It’s broken by Makoto rising from his seat, his men following. He straightens out his suit jacket and makes a motion with his fingers. “Come, I’ll show you the prize right now.”

And Levi finds himself reluctantly following along like a dog, and Kenny too. The group of men exit from the curtains, heading back down the spiraling staircase. The music softens as they descend the staircase, like the club itself is aware something heavier just entered the room. Without a word, the other guests make way for the group, some women sending flirtatious waves or doe-eyed smiles towards Makoto.  Levi’s eyes flicker across the patrons who glance up, some pretending not to stare, others openly gawking. Power like Makoto’s always draws attention, and the entourage trailing behind only confirms it. Levi hates this part—the theatrics, the display, the illusion of untouchable grandeur. But he plays along, stoic as ever, even as they cut through the low hum of conversation like a blade through silk.

Makoto slides into the center seat at the lavish round table like a king returning to his throne. The plush leather molds around him effortlessly, his posture regal but relaxed. Levi takes the seat to his right, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics. Kenny flops down on the left like he’s done this a thousand times—which, knowing him, he probably has.

The men behind them form a wall of polished muscle and sharp gazes, stationed with silent obedience. 

Makoto signals to a woman behind the bar with a simple glance, and almost instantly, she nods and disappears into the back. Levi’s gaze tracks the interaction, narrowing slightly. 

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Only moments later, the crowd parts—slow and smooth—as you step out from behind the deep red curtain, flanked by two club hostesses who clearly pale in comparison. You're wearing a purple satin number, delicate and barely-there, its shimmer catching the warm light in all the wrong—and right—ways. Your hair is styled with effortless elegance, and you walk like you’ve never tripped a day in your life. Or like someone taught you never to look like you did.

Levi doesn’t breathe for a second. Not out of awe, but surprise.

He wasn’t expecting this. Well, you surely look…different.

You don’t look at the men who part like waves for you. You don’t even glance toward Makoto until you’re at the table, offering only a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Father,” you say smoothly, voice soft but clear.

Makoto gives a pleased nod. “Darling,” he murmurs, like the word itself is another performance.

You look to the man beside him—Kenny—and offer a subtle tilt of your head, polite, reserved. Then your eyes slide over to Levi. Your gaze lingers.

And Levi… feels it.

Not just the scrutiny. But the weight of expectation. Of curiosity. Maybe even challenge.

“Having a good time?” Your father asks as you lean down, turning your head slightly so he can plant a reverent kiss on your cheek. “Mingling and all that, yes?”

You chuckle, red-stained lips curling upwards in a soft way. “Oh, yes, father. Of course I’ve been. I’ve made friends with some of those you've asked me to.”

There’s a silent look in your eyes—like you and your father are telepathically communicating. Levi’s eyes barely stray from you, forcing himself to get familiar with his charge’s expressions. Your father hums in approval, nodding. “Good girl.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, head tilting. “Though…maybe some of my friends are having a bit…too much fun.”

Makoto follows your line of sight toward a semi-rowdy group of older men. Drained glasses littering their table as one they laugh boisterously at their own jokes. Your father’s jaw ticks slightly, giving three of his men a tiny nod in the group’s direction. 

The command is silent but understood. The three guards move swiftly—like shadows trained in courtesy and intimidation—drifting toward the group of men without needing to speak. Their presence alone sobers the laughter, draining it from the air like a sudden draft of cold wind. The drunkest among them nearly chokes on his drink, sputtering apologies before anyone even lays a hand on him. Levi doesn’t miss the shift. The way your lips press together just slightly. Like you're both amused and weary of what your father’s influence can do.

Makoto turns back to you, eyes glittering with a sharp kind of pride. “You’ve always had a good eye.”

You shrug lightly, folding your hands in front of you like you're nothing more than an accessory at the table. “I just like keeping things...elegant.”

It’s then that Makoto gestures toward Levi with the casual air of someone introducing a pet he’s particularly fond of. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’ll be looking after you from now on.”

You finally turn to face him fully.

Levi meets your gaze, this time with intention. The color in your eyes is sharp, observant—more calculating than your painted smile suggests. It’s a quick scan, top to bottom, and Levi feels it again. The test. Like you're waiting to see what kind of man your father’s put in front of you this time. “I see,” you murmur, tone unreadable. Then, with graceful attachment, you sit at the table—choosing the empty lap of Levi himself. He stiffens in surprise, his initial instinct urging him to push you off. Your sweet scent invades his nostrils instantly. However, he withstands it, deciding he wouldn’t like to deal with the consequences as of now. “You like wine, Mr. Ackerman?” you ask lightly, pouring yourself a glass from the bottle that was already waiting.

Levi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes study you, more than the wine, more than your dress. Trying to read between your lines. Trying to decide if you’re amused by all this. “I don’t drink,” he replies flatly.

“Oh, what a shame. This is the finest liquor in all of Marley.” You pout, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. Your eyes don’t stray from his as you indulge, licking your lips clean when you bring it away. “My father must’ve really hired such a resolute man.” You chuckle, leaning forward slightly and sending your father a subtle glance. 

“As resolute as there is.” Makoto huffs in amusement. 

Makoto’s pride crackles in the air like a cigar ember burning low—hot, glowing, dangerous.

Levi doesn’t respond to the praise. He just sits there, solid and unsmiling, posture stiff beneath the soft weight of you in his lap. He can feel the way you effortlessly carry yourself. You wear your charm like a silk veil—delicate and graceful. 

You swirl the wine in your glass, voice lilting as you speak again. “Will he be sleeping in my room too?”

Makoto chuckles low, slow. “Only if you give him reason to.”

Now it’s Levi’s turn to give your father a look. He almost wants to blurt out the obvious question of why he’s allowing you to act like this in front of him. Why he seems completely okay with a hypothetical situation of some man you just met sleeping in his daughter’s room. But instead, he’s joking about it—going along with it, enabling it.

Do you usually act like this with men?

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter at that. You glance back at Levi, brows lifting. “Do you take orders well, Mr. Ackerman?”

He stares back at you, unflinching. “Only from the ones I respect.”

You hum, intrigued but unshaken. “I suppose we’ll see if I earn that.” 

The moment hangs there—heavy, stretched taut like wire. Then you slide off him in one smooth motion, as if the whole thing was just a test. A show of dominance in velvet gloves. You cross your legs and lean back in your seat beside him, your posture still elegant. The toe of your heel nonchalantly brushes against his calf, up and down. 

Makoto raises his glass in a lazy toast, gaze moving between you and Levi. “To new arrangements,” he declares.

You and Kenny echo the sentiment, a sweet giggle falling from your lips. Glasses clink. Wine swirls. The club resumes its slow, seductive pulse around them—but Levi knows something in the air has shifted.

This wasn’t just a job anymore.

This was theater. A powder keg. And he was now sitting in the front row, watching it smolder.

And the woman sitting beside him—who had moments ago treated his lap like a throne—now looks like a statue carved from something more fragile than stone. Still, poised, but not entirely present.

Levi glances at you from the corner of his eye.

You're watching the club floor now, eyes half-lidded, fingers idly tracing the rim of your wine glass. You laugh at something Makoto says, soft and sweet, but Levi hears how hollow it is. Like you’ve told that laugh to show up on cue too many times. And as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, Levi’s thoughts crawl.

Makoto didn’t hire a bodyguard for your safety. Not really. 

 He hired a leash.

But Levi Ackerman doesn’t do leashes—not for long.

(open) taglist: @myahfig4 @miss-dior @kouyoumarryme @chericheriladeee

@deniixlovezelda @whitenightdreams @yoriichitsugikunii @wittyjasontodd @toj1swh0re

@antiv3nus @gojowifefrfr @alt--er--love @beabamboo @jeonwiixard

@bottomlesschaps @luna-v-roiya @lovingstudenthumancookie @toji-dabi-wife @naomikozura

@kimvmarvel @elmaa127 @frrxnyw @aldebrana @koji-akeme

@bouquetoflove @reivelmin @teal-anchor @wakasaishot @silveritydreams

@starrynights23x @cherlouu @littlebabyrae

[barbiesmuse]

BETTER VERSION HEADCANONS ༘⋆₊˚ෆ

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + reader

talia talks: i'm just going to leave this here. it's actually filthy and i probably won't be looking in the mirror for the next week. this was originally supposed to come out before the actual fic buuuut it didn't so enjoy my scraps while i finish "welcome to new york!!" ofc credits for the idea go to @ungodlybre. she's such a baddie!! okay, enjoy this filth! love you yesterday, today, and tomorrow! with all the love in my heart, natty. here's the link to better version.

“they call it the honeymoon phase.”

sweethusband!simon who was the sweetest man when you'd met him. it was hard to believe he killed men with how kind he was to you. he practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

sweethusband!simon who had made sure whenever he came home from work he stripped at the door in case he smelled of gunpowder. showering as quickly as possible so he could hold you in his arms.

sweethusband!simon who pressed soft kisses to your hair while he fingered you in your sleep the feeling of your warm walls comforting him. the smell of your shampoo clouded his senses, and his movements became staggered as his hard-on grew. But your pleasure always came before his.

sweethusband!simon would beg to wash your hair in the shower, he loved the feeling of his body against yours while the water pours down on the two of you. the sticky feeling casting a comforting warmth over him.

sweethusband!simon who felt himself falling more and more in love with you every day. if felt as if he was meeting you for the first time all over again. every time he woke up next to you, butterflies fluttered in his stomach. the beautiful sight of you sprawled in his bed, his cum stuffed inside of you from the night before.

sweethusband!simon who fucked you so so well before his first deployment since your wedding. your pretty pussy clenched on nothing for the next six days just at the thought of how he touched you that night. his hand gently embracing your neck as he fucks you in front of the mirror. his nose pressed behind your ear, his breath hot on your neck. sweethusband!simon who made you watch his fat cock plunge in and out of you, of course you didn't have to do any work. you just had to watch and keep those pretty eyes of yours open. even when you tried to help him, he pushed your hips down and muttered something about how “i wouldn't be a real man if i needed your help, b'sides s' good workout for me.”

sweethusband!simon who would whispered dirty things in your ear, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. every time those pretty eyes of yours closed he would pull back on your hair, force your mouth open, and spit in it. he'd push your head forehead and force your eyes open if he had to. if you wanted this you'd better watch. like his sweet girl would.

sweethusband!simon who would say things like, “fuck baby, she's squeezing me so tight. she missed me today didn't she?” and you would just nod in embarrassment, your cheeks flushed a soft pink. he would tut at you in disappointment before slapping your clit. the sudden stimulation making you whimper. “say it, tell me how much my sweet girls missed me. how bad they needed me. cause fuck sweetheart, i missed you both to pieces.

“then it'll turn to hell, just. like. that.”

assholehusband!simon who would treat you as a roommate, not on purpose you just simply became another being in his life. his love never faded, his sweet actions however did. if you asked him to help you he'd drop whatever task, but he wouldn't say a single word. and when you muttered a thank you she would give you a shrug.

assholehusband!simon simon who didn't strip at the door anymore. when you'd ask he'd simply grunt something about, “shit, forget it'll be fine.” and you'd simply let out a sigh. he'd just gotten back from deployment and you didn't want to push him. so each time you'd let it slide. the smell of gunpowder soon became an odd cologne.

assholehusband!simon who would still finger you in your sleep, the only time he truly felt comfortable with expressing his love for you. he'd have small conversations with you, it gave him comfort knowing that you still trusted him this way. “you're so damn perfect sweet girl, please don't leave.” and when you'd respond, he would pull his fingers out of your gushy pussy as quickly as possible. your orgasm snatched away from you. he'd stuff his fingers in your mouth and make you suck them yourself.

assholehusband!simon who would let you shower with him. he'd be just fine without you in the shower. he couldn't care less, and he made it known just by his actions. he wouldn't even touch touch you. the water was steaming hot, the steam clouds floating out of the shower as if they were trying to escape the awkwardness themselves. the water was hot but you felt cold.

assholehusband!simon who would trudge up the stairs if he got home late from deployment. his eyes immediately landing on the lingerie that adorned your body in such a gorgeous way. like you were a little present waiting for him to present. he loved how even though he treated you like a sleeve for his cum you still got all pretty just for him.

assholehusband!simon who watched his cum drip out of your sweet little pussy, his mark on you. he'd dreamt about your stomach becoming swollen with his kids. the thought of your beautiful tits only becoming larger. the thought of him fucking you, his veiny cock deep inside your cunt. his lips wrapped around your nipple, your sweet milk filing his mouth.

assholehusband!simon who would slap his cock on your tongue, your sweet eyes meeting his. he looked down at you as if you were his servant yet there was a small hint of guilt. yet it was clouded by a small look of love in his eyes. no matter what, you'd always be his sweet girl. always. “mm, suck so it can be all ready for my girls.” he'd whisper as his cock hits the back of your throat.

[margeoww]

Hiii, could you maybe write a Toto Wolff fic, where he’s super busy with work and stuff and forgets their anniversary or the reader’s birthday and she is like so close to leaving him, but he like can’t live without her and promises to be better?? Like very angstyyyy but with a happy ending. <333

The Time We Almost Lost

back to my main masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x fem!reader

summary: when Toto Wolff forgets one of the most important days in your relationship, his world begins to crumble as you decide you can’t keep being an afterthought.

warnings: Angst with happy ending!!

a/n: sorry for making this so short 💔

The silence in your shared home had become suffocating, its weight pressing down on you with every passing second. Once, this space had been alive, a sanctuary of shared laughter, quiet moments of intimacy, and conversations that stretched long into the night. Now, it was a hollow reminder of everything that had changed.

Your birthday had come and gone, unacknowledged by the man who once made it his mission to make every moment feel special. The once-vivid memories of his handwritten notes, surprise dinners, and whispered promises had faded into a distant ache. The untouched cake sat on the counter, mocking you with its cheerfulness, its candles still perfectly intact, waiting for a celebration that never came.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t cry. But as you sat alone, your hands clasped tightly around a glass of wine, the dam broke. Silent tears fell, their warmth streaking your cheeks as you stared into the empty room. How had you let it get this far? How had you become invisible in the eyes of the man you loved?

When Toto finally came home, it was well past midnight. You heard the soft jingle of his keys, the door creaking open, and the familiar rhythm of his footsteps in the hallway. A pang of anger shot through you, sharper than the sadness you’d been nursing all night.

He hesitated at the doorway to the bedroom, his tall frame silhouetted by the dim light from the hall. —Liebe? —he called softly, his voice laced with exhaustion.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your robe wrapped tightly around you, the charm bracelet you’d bought yourself resting in your palm. The anger you felt earlier was a simmer now, dull but present.

—I came home as soon as I could. —he started, his tone cautious as if he already sensed the storm brewing. —I know I’ve been…

—Busy? —you interrupted, the bitterness in your voice slicing through the air. You stood, fixing him with a glare that made him stop in his tracks. —Go on. Tell me how you’ve been busy.

Toto sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. —You know how much is going on with the team right now. I don’t want to make excuses, but…

—Then don’t. —you snapped, cutting him off again. —Because I’m tired of hearing excuses, Toto. I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to understand, but last night… Do you even realize what yesterday was?

He stared at you, confusion clouding his features. And then it hit him. His eyes widened, and his shoulders slumped as he whispered. —Scheisse.

Your chest tightened at the confirmation. —That’s it? Scheisse? —You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. —You forgot my birthday, Toto. You didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even notice when I didn’t say a word all day. Do you even care anymore? Or am I just… someone who happens to live here?

His face crumpled at your words, guilt etched into every line of his features. —Of course, I care. You’re everything to me.

—Am I? —you challenged, your voice trembling. —Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve been putting in all the effort, waiting for you to remember I exist, hoping for scraps of your time. But I can’t do it anymore, Toto. I can’t keep feeling this invisible.

He stepped closer, his hands outstretched as if reaching for you would keep you from slipping away. —Please, don’t say that. I know I’ve let you down, but I…

—You’ve let me down for months. —you interrupted, your voice cracking. —This isn’t just about last night. It’s about every night I’ve spent eating dinner alone, every morning I’ve woken up to an empty bed, and every time I’ve wondered if I’m even a priority in your life anymore.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of your words. —You are a priority. —he said, his voice breaking. —I’ve been so caught up in work, in trying to keep everything together, that I didn’t see what it was doing to us. To you. But I see it now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.

You folded your arms across your chest, trying to hold yourself together. —Words aren’t enough, Toto. I’ve heard them before, but nothing ever changes. I need more than promises. I need you to prove that I matter to you.

He nodded, his jaw tightening with determination. —I will. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t leave me.

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes, shook you to your core. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that this time would be different. But the wounds he had left weren’t easily healed.

—You’re asking for something I’m not sure I can give. —you whispered. —You’ve broken my heart, Toto. And I don’t know if I can keep putting the pieces back together on my own.

His hands trembled as he reached for yours, his touch tentative. —Then let me help you. Let me be the man you deserve. I know I’ve failed you, but I’ll spend every day proving that you’re the most important part of my life. Just… don’t give up on us.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and fragile hopes. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your tears spilling over as you whispered, —I don’t want to give up on us. But I can’t do this alone, Toto.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you might disappear. —You won’t have to. —he murmured. —I promise, you won’t have to.

[toriaaniin]

Well hello there (redacted*)! How nice of you to drop by. I'd offer you a cup of tea, but...

Me and my Lukola friends are too blind to find anything in the kitchen!

And while I'm paying attention to you (redacted)... did you not read the article that Nicola posted yesterday? Did you not take the hint that she was admonishing trolls and online bully behaviour? You know; behaviour that looks suspiciously like your message (above) to me? Perhaps you have eyesight issues too. Yes. Yes, I think you do.

As for me...

I'm simply following the clues that a possibly pregnant women has left for me and my friends. In fact her clues are more easily readable than brail.

Now; about this so called "launch" you speak of? Give me a break. Even through the haze of my cataracts I was able to see that her post for Jake the other day was lame. She didn't even tag him.

Let's compare her untagged "love" post to Jake with the HBD wishes she's posted on her IG stories for her other friends:

She shares a photo of Jake next to the trash can; a photo that doesn't even include her IN it. Surly Nicola has better photos of "the love of her life" on her phone?! Let's compare with how she wishes her very good friend Jack Rooke a happy birthday. So sweet! And tagged.

When Nicola wished Luke Fetherston a happy birthday she not only shared a photo with both of them in it, she also gave him THREE red hearts! Now that's hard launch material right there!! Oh. And he was tagged.

Nicola even gave more birthday love to Valentina, Camilla's dog, than she did to Jake. Sadly Valentina wasn't tagged either... although Camilla was 🥰 BUT, Nicola called Valentina a princess!

Don't worry. Jake's friend Hannah gave him this honourific, so he wasn't left out of the princess fairytale. It must be love!

But wait... there's competition for Jake's love!!

Now these are romantic birthday wishes to Jake, posted by Doug and Dylan the other day.

Clearly the man is loved by his friends. Deservedly so, I'm sure.

But I really, really, really question whether THIS was a hard launch?

Seems to me it was simply a birthday wish for her friend (not lover) Jake. Unfortunately she posted at 6:30am when she was half awake and neglected to tag him. Unlike her spelling-mistake story showing the billboard in Los Angeles, she didn't delete and repost Jake's birthday wish with the missing tag. I guess Luke and Bridgerton's ensemble cast nomination warranted a correctly spelled "Surprise". Deleted; replaced.

Now I ask you; am I really blind? I saw well enough to compile the photos above and make perfect sense of them. I don't see a love-launch of Jake. I see a man living his life, preparing for an amazing lead theatre role. What an opportunity! I also see a man that didn't spend time with Nicola over Christmas, New Years, her birthday, his birthday (according to her, she was in LA. Sure Jan), and today: Valentine's Day. I also see a man who is loved by his friends. Nicola is his friend.

Unless I'm missing something?

So (redacted*)... rather than come over here and rag on the truth I and my Lukola friends see - and that I shared above - why don't you and your little weiner-dog leader fuck the hell off. We know.

P.S. I'm tempted to create some merch for us blind Lukolas! Sarcastic t-shirts and sweatshirt merch is fun 💙 Want one?!

P.S.S. I've redacted the name of this poster because 10 hours after she sent this message to me, she recalled it... just before I was about to post this response. I could have scrapped my post, but she challenged me to SEE the truth. I wanted to oblige. I've redacted her name on the chance that she realized she didn't message me anonymously and so she chickened out and pulled her ask. Or perhaps she thought about Nicola's troll/bully post from yesterday and thought better of her action. Let's give her grace and assume that she came to her senses and not that she's too chicken shit to have her name out there along with her bully behaviour.

Aaniin friends!

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - spring)

Farmer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a new farmer & has a family but no physical description, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s) very light use of gendered language, handyman & farmer!Joel, grumpy!Joel, wound tending & blood imagery, discussion of family loss with light navigation of grief, Ellie being Joel’s daughter, secret softie!Joel, alcohol consumption mention, use of nickname, budding romance

word count: 5.4k

a/n: our first ‘Joel’ fic for our stardew AU series! Here’s to starting this new aventure with y’all! I couldn’t have the strength to post this without @swiftispunk @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy @burntheedges @perotovar you angels don’t know how much I appreciate y’all and am so grateful for you babes…and to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

No one in Pelican Town hates you more than Joel Miller does. George, the crabby older elderly man in town, might be a close second, but Joel has him beat by miles.

For someone so incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a rugged wilderness way with his misty mountain gray hair and sharp lovely nose, his glare could wither your entire family farm’s field.

“He’s just an ass sometimes.” Your Dad had told you with a sigh over the phone. “Been that way even when your gramps was around.”

At first you didn’t want to fully admit it but yeah, Joel is a prickly cactus of a man.

He owns a farm further down the path from yours. You love walking by it when you take the long way home and getting to spot all the sheep roaming around his fields. He’s also the town’s handyman.

“A jack of all trades, more like it.” Pierre, the main store owner, snickered that to you while Joel was in the store fixing a light fixture.

After that Joel helped you set up your first fencing gate. Then he fixed your sink. And then your water heater.

It’s been a lot and you know it. You feel guilty at how bad you can’t seem to get a hang of this new life yet. Your grandpa did it, thrived even. You can too, or you hope you can.

Until Joel glares at you like you’re a bug ready to squash, then you feel incredibly small.

Once you physically and accidentally ran into him walking out of the blacksmith’s shop when he was heading in. You sputtered out an apology, but without a single word Joel walked past you as if you weren’t even worth his time.

One night you went to the town’s saloon hoping to maybe mingle and get to know everyone better. But simply seeing him sitting inside made you turn on your heels and scramble out.

From that point on you’ve been avoiding him.

But now unfortunately, a few paces away from Joel Miller’s farm, your hand bleeds out a bit aggressively.

“Shit.” You hiss, slipping off your backpack to search for your mini first aid kit.

Yesterday you stubbornly tried fixing your fence and accidentally scrapped your hand pretty bad against the wood. Earlier you believed you wrapped it good enough but now the blood soaking through the bandaid mocks you.

“You alright?!”

The sharp accented drawl rings out loud in the early morning and fear collides into you.

Of course Joel hadn’t left for the morning.

You yell back that you’re fine but scramble frantic now trying to find the damn first aid kit.

“Is that blood?” Joel snaps, sounding closer, as his boots rush against the dirt.

“No, I spilled paint.” You grumble to yourself annoyed.

“M’old but I fuckin’ heard that.” Damn.

He’s much closer now, so close his shadow falls over you but you refuse to look at him.

“What happened!?” He barks confused.

Sighing, you give up hope on finding the poor elusive first aid kit.

“Just cut my hand, that's all. It isn’t deep. I’m fine.” You reassure him.

Joel sighs angrily.

“Come on.”

Now you turn and discover his soil eyes stare at you with such a steeled intensity you almost want to scurry away.

“Fixin’ this up inside.” He doesn’t even ask or let you leave. With one yank Joel Miller pulls you towards his farmhouse.

“I’m fine.” You snap back.

“What? Just wanna let it bleed ‘n get everywhere?” An edge in Joel’s voice silences you.

Any argument you wanted to hiss out immediately floats away the moment you cross the threshold into his house. Your eyes go wide. You never once thought you’d ever see the inside of Joel Miller’s place.

It’s larger than your grandpa's.

Joel deposits you into his kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, possibly oatmeal with its warm cinnamon notes, hangs in the air. Yet you feel like a caught feral cat that doesn’t know how to react being inside a house for the first time.

So you let your eyes wander.

Beautiful wood cupboards line the walls. A fridge is covered with various papers held up by sweet colorful cartoonish magnets you never would’ve expected from him. A worn cozy, well loved, couch peeks out from the slight view of the living room you spot being inside the kitchen.

Joel’s house seems knitted together by a rustic weathered comfort. Yet, there’s a hollowness to the house, like it’s waiting for more spirit to fill the halls. You can’t pinpoint or describe the stillness here in this place, but you sense it.

After rustling around a drawer, Joel yanks out a rather impressive medical kit. Largely bulky and intimidating, like him, it’s no surprise a handyman and farmer has such a first aid kit.

“How’d it happen?” Joel asks gruff and quiet as he rummages around the bag.

You tell him and his seasoned face scrunches up frustrated.

“Why didn’t ya call and have me go fix it?”

You thought about that. But you couldn’t handle the thought of asking him to help again, to deal with his frustrated sighs and gruff annoyance. He barely said a word to you last weekend when he went to check your sink again.

“Don’t need you to fix everything.” You tell him composed while Joel pulls out various things to wrap your wound.

“Besides, I can fix things on my own.” You add firm.

“Not all the time.” He replies.

You stay quiet and watch his hands, large and callous, gingerly dab away all the crimson from your cut.

He’s never been this close to you. You catch the faintest smell of wood and of something clean crisp, his laundry detergent maybe. It threatens to fog your senses knowing he smells this lovely.

“Y’dont ask for help and shit like this happens.”

Your face hardens at Joel’s words. You even childishly want to yank away your hand and storm off.

“Look I get it, you barely tolerate me and think I can’t do shit. I know I’m still new, but this was an accident. It happens.” Your words come out harsher than you intended, sharpened scythes that cut through the room, and Joel freezes.

“I don’t think that.” He replies clear as a spring blue sky.

You want to bark a laugh of disbelief, but instead you simply stay silent.

Joel sighs, keeping his eyes on the medic tape he readies.

“And I… tolerate you.” He sputters like he’s trying to muster the words out.

A moment passes. Then Joel sighs, ancient and heavy.

“Don’t mind me. M’just some grumpy old fuck-”

“Hey you’re not old. You’re just grumpy.” You interrupt trying to ease the mood and your heart jumps hearing him snort.

“M’old.” He clarifies. He is older, older than you, and that fact creates a strange flutter in your chest you don’t want to explore just yet.

“And…don’t want ya feelin’ like shit.” He continues with a curt softness.

You never knew his voice could sound this layered, so tough but tender.

“Just tryin’ to look out for ya like your gramps asked me too.”

There’s a strange apology shaded in his words but you manage to catch it. A rush of emotions drown you in their current.

“You were close with my grandpa.” You comment with a curious question lingering below the surface.

“Yeah,” Joel answers low now tenderly moving to wrap your hand. “His ol’ ass used to keep me in place.”

You smirk fondly. That sounds like your gramps.

“Miss seein’ him walk by this place and hearin’ him complain that he likes the sheep more than me.”

Joel’s fond and aching voice digs its hooks into your soul. You miss gramps too, so much.

“Used to fish a lot together out by the lake.” He adds.

This is the most Joel Miller has ever spoken to you and you worry the sun might fall out of the sky soon.

“I bet he out fished you.” You tease soft.

Joel snorts. “Damn right he did.”

You can almost picture it clearly, your gramps and Joel laughing together, having a friendship.

“He’d be proud of ya.” Joel mutters but his words chime clear.

Your attention flickers to Joel. He keeps his focus steady on your hand. However his words crystallize deep in your heart and you blink away tears. You ever expected Joel Miller to almost make you cry like this.

“Thanks…means a lot.” You truthfully tell him while you swallow back the heartache and love threatening to spill over.

“He’d also say you’re a fuckin’ stubborn thing for not askin’ for help.”

You snort at that.

“Well you knew the old guy, it runs in the family.” You reply.

Joel chuckles.

It’s small - like the faint flash of seeing a cardinal in the trees. But you heard it, his amusement, and it’s lovely for a man quietly layered as him.

“Alright, all fixed up.”

The wrap is tight, secure, and speaks of his many times previously doing this before.

“Thank you Joel, appreciate it.” You do.

“Can't be a handyman if I can’t fix up people sometimes.” He shrugs but there’s a deadpan charm to his words you’re slowly catching now.

“Doctor and a handyman, no wonder the town keeps you around.” So you dryly joke back.

This moment isn’t much. Yet it feels like gaining a good step in the direction of something right and solid.

Gathering your things, you decide to head out. Even though curiosity claws at you to take in a few more moments being inside Joel Miller’s home, you have seeds to buy.

“Where ya headin’’ to?” Joel asks.

“Pierre’s.” You huff. “Need more parsnips.”

He hums a noise of acknowledgment.

Back outside the mid morning sun’s warmth soaks you in its gaze. Maybe you could fish for a bit before you head to the store. After all, the weather is so nice.

“Hey.” Joel barks out and before heading back on the road, you turn to him.

He’s a sight on his porch. You think of the typical romance movies of the handsome farmer trying to woo the newcomer in town and how right now he puts them all to shame.

Hands crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders seem like mountains against the doorway, so striking and large taking up the entire focus.

“Don’t hesitate to call y’hear? Don’t fuckin’ care what it is or what it’s for, call me.” Joel’s face is hardened and serious, reflecting the unwavering tone in his voice.

Something heated crawls up your throat and makes you dizzy. You blame it on the blood loss.

“Besides, s’what neighbors are for, right?” He adds a bit awkwardly.

It hits you. He’s the closest homestead to you. You are neighbors with him.

“Alright will do, promise.” You nod and mean your words.

“Thanks again neighbor.” Those words tingle on your lips.

Joel nods and with that you head out.

You’re on such a strange high you simply float straight to the pier and fish. It’s comforting being among the crashing waves, the sea breeze, and the wonderful weather. You also think of your gramps and Joel here.

But by the time the sky starts to turn into a ripe tangerine you realize in horror you forget to buy more seeds.

You almost scream in anguish when you find Pierre’s doors locked. Accepting momentary defeat, you head home.

When you reach your porch, there against the steps a bundle of parsnip seeds and a small pack of bandaids sit waiting for you.

- ☼ -

Your hope to quietly enjoy the egg festival, your true first event here in the valley, is diminished when Mayor Lewis practically drags you into the egg hunt saying it’s a rite of passage.

His deadly polite politician smile said there was no way you could worm your way out of participating. So you simply start the hunt thinking of the strawberry seeds you can’t wait to plant once this is over.

You’re not overly competitive, but these eggs are getting harder to find. You want to finish at least with some dignity.

Besides the area around Stardrop Saloon you scan every inch like a hawk. Someone coughs, clearing their throat, and it catches your attention.

Under the shade of the building, nursing a cold drink, Joel slightly turns towards you.

Now instead of a hawk you feel like a surprised field mouse caught in his gaze.

Without saying anything Joel flickers his eyes a couple of times towards the corner of the building. Is he giving you a hint?

Heading to the spot his eyes vaguely guided you to, you discover a colorful egg.

You almost want to keep it as proof this happened. Joel helped you.

By the time the egg hunt ends everyone already seems to be packing up and the mysterious Mr. Miller has vanished from the commotion.

Abigail wins the egg hunt and you aren’t even upset. In fact you walk home feeling like a champion.

The next morning on the help wanted and errands bulletin board in town you spot Joel’s name. Below it is a request asking for a small pack of wood.

You readily answer it and drop off the bundle eagerly, a way to help pay him back for everything.

The pretty decent payment he gives you is nice but the crooked soft hint of a grin on his face when you arrive to deliver the request is worth iridium.

A few days after that he mails you a recipe. The letter is so simply Joel - a straightforward recipe then a scribbled JM below it. You hang the letter up proudly on your fridge.

Spring blooms more and more before your eyes.

You decide to take advantage of it by foraging for the day.

“Where y’heading?”

You’ve been taking the long way to the forest these past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. Now that you’re not actively avoiding him, you discover, small town or not, Joel is a surprisingly busy man.

When you catch glimpses of him, instead of glares being thrown your way, Joel Miller simply nods acknowledging you. Comforting as it is to know he doesn’t outright detest, you don’t like how much you hope to run into him more.

Now he’s here sliding on his backpack while moving to lock his gate.

“Just heading to the forest, gonna forage and walk around for the day.” You answer him.

“Works out, hafta head that way myself.” Joel explains falling into step besides you.

Alone with Joel Miller once again.

The small talk comes - asking each other how your days have been, anything new or interesting happening. The heat is starting to pick up announcing summer’s close arrival. Thankfully it’s still not unbearably hot as you and him fully enter the woods.

Cindersap forest is tranquil. A beautiful glimmering evergreen haven you enjoy simply strolling through. You never thought you’d ever be here with Joel.

“No new crops coming in?”

“Nothing exciting.” You shrug. “I’m more upset that I didn't plant any tulips this season.”

“Those your favorite?” Joel asks, surprisingly curious.

“Not mine, my gramps.” Your memories of the farm might be hazy, but you always remembered fresh tulips in the kitchen.

“They’re for the fairies.” Gramps would tell you with a wink.

You were bummed after realizing Pierre had flower seeds and it was too late to see them bloom in your kitchen.

“Damn,” Joel sighs. “Ain't your fault. Pierre’s an ass and hides all the good shit, flower seeds included.”

You’re almost positive Pierre doesn’t do that, but you burst out laughing.

A giddy twinkling glee consumes you and fills you buoyant. He’s trying to comfort you in his own Joel way. And it’s dangerous how fast you’re growing to enjoy the company of this grumpy cactus of a man.

You move to snag a few dandelions and wild horseradishes. You make a face at one that smells a bit ripe and decide to leave it for the forest.

“You can eat those y’know.” Joel comments.

“Yeah so I’ve heard.” You tried your first ever daffodil this month. “A wild horseradish might be a bit too much right now though, but who knows. Maybe one day I’ll try ‘em.”

“My kid used to eat these all the damn time. Never took a likin’ to ‘em myself.” Joel grumbles kicking the disposed horseradish.

Kid.

“You have a kid?” You ask curiously.

Joel blinks to you and there’s a gleam in his earth eyes of something reserved slowly revealing itself.

“Uh… yeah. A daughter. Ellie.”

A daughter. He’s a dad.

It fits him in a way that you never would have expected.

“She doesn’t live here?” You ask but then quickly apologize for pressing the subject. Joel waves you off, casual and unbothered.

“She did, just graduated highschool this year. Wanted to do the whole college deal. She lives out west now.”

So he’s an empty nester.

Delicately, wanting to know more about him and his daughter, you ask about her.

Joel inhales deep then exhales slowly, as if an immovable weight on his shoulders rattles deep to his bones.

“She’s a headache, my Ellie.” Fondness trickles out of Joel a steady stream.

“Stubborn, damn near impossible to argue with cause she’s so fuckin’ smart. Got a good heart. Good head on her shoulders too, wants to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut?! That’s incredible!” You exclaim in brilliant excitement.

Like the proud dad he is, adoration tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Yeah, been wantin’ to be one for years. That’s why she’s going to school.”

“She sounds incredible, Joel. You must be proud.” You earnestly tell him.

“I am…” His voice is thick, and you don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over distant and misty.

You decide not to press the subject any further. He instead does it for you.

“She loved livin’ here until the damn flower festival rolled around. Then she’d swear up ‘n down about how much she hated this town and was gonna leave the second she could.”

The flower festival is just days away. The town swirls in a controlled chaos for its arrival.

You laugh warm. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan of dancing.”

“Takes after me.” Joel nods.

“Ahh…so guess that means you’re not asking anyone to dance this year.” You comment lightly and Joel snorts.

“Ain’t danced with anyone in a very long time.”

A wistful ace now twists your heart thinking of Joel alone in his home, alone watching the others in town pair off.

“You gonna ask anyone?” Joel turns the question around to you and you almost choke on an inhale.

Not wanting to get flustered or react wildly you focus on the wild springs among the lush forest.

“Uh no. Don’t think anyone wants to dance with the newbie in town. Which is fine.” You answer.

There are lovely and gorgeous people in town. Some have caught your eye. However, you didn’t feel brave or interested enough to ask anyone to dance. And no one seemed intended to ask for your hand in the dance, and you find you’re not too upset about that.

Joel hums low, a sign you’re catching on means he’s listening without having to reply much.

“Hopin’ someone will ask ya to dance?” That question takes you by surprise.

You shrug not wanting to fully answer the question either.

Someone suddenly calls out to Joel from behind. At the edge of the forest leading back into town stands Maria, the town’s legal counsel and assistant mayor.

“Caught playing hooky, busted.” You snicker and Joel scoffs.

Maria yells out Joel’s name again.

“Can you come back to town and help us with something? Thought you’d be at home seeing how it’s your day off today. I’ve been trying to call ya but nothing went through.” She yells.

The service here in the forest was awful compared to the town, a hard lesson you’ve learned quickly.

But you also don’t miss Maria’s comment.

Joel had today off. Yet he decided to stay a bit with you. That thought has teeth and you can’t stop their bite from sinking into your heart.

Joel groans but doesn't hesitate to head towards where the assistant mayor stands. Maria of course spots you and a wonderful grin lights up lovely her face.

“It’s good to see you.” She calls out.

“You too!” You reply back thankful your voice is level.

Joel glances over his shoulder to catch your eye.

“Good luck foragin’. Don’t eat any weird shit.”

You sputter out a squawk at his casual comment.

“Next time I see you, I’m giving you a wild horseradish!” You playfully snap the ridiculous reply before you can even stop yourself, but Joel thankfully rolls his eyes unbothered.

Maria’s eyes however flicker curiously between you and Joel. Too many emotions heat up your skin now. So bidding Joel and Maria a quick goodbye you stomp back into the forest to continue foraging.

Now along in the woods, your thoughts still think of Joel. The bag of parsnip seeds, the bandages, and the recipe, come to mind. You never once discussed any of it with him or him with you. It’s something you keep locked in your heart, just like today will be.

Soon the day melts into early twilight. You snag a couple of dandelions and a few other forageables before deciding to head home.

Joel’s farm house looms quietly still with no lights. You can’t bring yourself to open the gate to his farm and walk up to the house.

So instead you place a few dandelions along with a nice fresh large wild horseradish on top of the mailbox by his gate then head home.

Even when you unwind for the night, you mind still feels like it’s snagged on Joel Miller, still there with him foraging in the forest.

- ☼ -

The flower dance, as strange of a custom as it is, is rather ethereal. So many vivid floral arrangements decorate the space with dynamic colors and the air even smells fresh.

The flower dance honors the legacy of celebrating the final days of spring. But it also is a celebration of love blooming.

“It has roots dating back to fertility rituals.” Demetrius, ever the town scientist, told you while you were chatting with him and his wife.

He was right of course. The flower dance is the opportunity for someone to extend a hand of romantic feelings towards another. Those who hope to participate in the couples dance, or possibly win the crown of Flower Queen, are dressed in glorious attire. Soft light fabrics and flowers woven into crowns create a scene conjured out of a fairy’s kingdom.

Compared to the others in lovely attire with flowers in their hair, you didn’t even dress up or change out of your messy dirt covered jeans. And the only flowers in your hair are actually twigs and leaves from cleaning up more of your property.

With no need to worry about someone asking you to dance, you instead simply enjoy the various foods prepared for the occasion.

“Be careful, the salsa actually has a pretty good kick.” You’re about to go in for a second helping when a gentle accented voice floats out to you.

Besides you is a man with the kindest eyes you’ve seen. Faintly you recognize his face and can recall seeing him around town.

“Tommy Miller.” He reintroduces himself seeing your slight hesitation and your eyes go big.

“Oh, Maria’s husband!” You fully remember her introducing him to you. But now something else clicks.

He’s Joel’s brother.

“Yup.” He grins proud at his wife’s mention.

You apologize profusely for not remembering him sooner and with a kind understanding smile Tommy reassures you it’s fine.

“Been a busy first month for ya, I get it. You’re a tough cookie handlin’ it all.”

Even though his twang mirrors his brother’s, Tommy already radiates a much different energy than Joel. He’s warm in a way that reminds you of a soft summer day welcoming everyone with his vibrant energy.

You thank him earnestly. “The town’s been good to me.”

A part of you wants to add Joel has been good to you. Weeks ago, you would’ve laughed at just the idea of Joel Miller showing you an emotion other than annoyance. But now you and him seem to slowly be warming up to each other.

“Don’t go stealin’ all the good stuff, y’little shit.” Joel arrives with a gruff grumble of a voice and quickly nudges Tommy.

Yet his eyes remained glued on you.

You also seem to notice how striking Joel looks in the crisp light jean button up shirt he wears.

“Speak of the devil… was just about to ask our new farmer here if ya haven’t scared her away yet.” Tommy jokes.

Joel’s face flickers with a scowl fighting to form but he keeps himself surprisingly composed.

Guilt sinks in your gut. You know he’s hard to read and you even feel bad for thinking he’s mean. Because you’re learning fast Joel is earnest in his own way.

“Nah,” you tell Tommy, answering for yourself and Joel almost. “His sheep are actually scarier than he is.”

Tommy busts out laughing and you grin. Your eyes flicker to Joel but see he isn’t grinning. Instead Joel’s handsome aged face stares at you guarded and you can’t read the emotions shimmering in his eyes.

Shit.

You might have overstepped and upset him. So to physically stop yourself from saying anything else you take a bite out of the delicious cornbread on your plate, wave a weak goodbye to the Miller brothers, and scurry away.

Now alone under the shadow of one of the lovely cherry trees, you’re aware of how new you still are, a fresh bud still trying to foster roots in this new ground. You wonder how your gramps dealt with this every year.

Soon enough, the music starts and Mayor Lewis claps excited ready to begin the dance.

At least this will be over soon.

The couples slowly sway to the soft melody then rustling arrives at your side. Gently your eyes turn to the source and you almost collapse seeing Joel move in besides you.

His eyes though stay on the couples dancing among the blooms.

“Could’ve at least picked better music to dance to.” He mumbles bored.

Your lips press hard trying not to smile ridiculous and wide.

“Could you imagine if someone played the wrong song?” You whisper back. “Like, some heavy metal rock song suddenly started screaming out?”

Joel snorts, masks it with a few coughs, but you did it. You made him laugh.

Golden soaked triumph fills you and it feels like the first morning you woke up and found a sprout peeking up from the dark tilled soil.

He’s a complex man and you’re barely even scratching the surface of him. But it’s a tender start you want to continue kindling.

For all the commotion and production given to the festival, the dance only lasts a few moments. It’s over thankfully fast.

“Bit anticlimactic.” You mutter under your breath.

“Yeah it’s dumb.” Joel deadpans.

Your lips fight from letting out a laugh.

Everyone claps joyously at the couples concluding their dance. You wonder, even as silly as this is, if one day maybe you’ll dance with flowers in your hair. But you don’t give that thought too much attention. Just imaging yourself next spring already seems so far away.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous meadow.

“I’m kind of tempted to maybe see if I can steal some of the leftovers but yeah, I’m heading back.” You reply.

“Tell me which food you’re eyein’ and I’ll grab it. No one will tell me no.” He offers and you laugh.

“Tempting as that is, I’m just gonna go home.” You wish Joel a warm good night.

He continues walking alongside you.

Your heart jumps until you realize he lives in the same direction. The chatter from the festival still lingers in the air even while you walk further away from the meadow.

“How do you deal with that every year?” You ask with a sigh.

“Alcohol.” Joel dully answers and you snicker at his reply.

“Maybe one day you’ll be dancin’ out there.” Joel comments like he’s trying to continue the small talk. But the suggestion makes you skin itch for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

You only reply with a simple ‘maybe’ and a shrug.

“I’d pay a hundred bucks to see you dance though.” You joke, but also quickly imagine Joel a picture of softness with a flower behind his ear resting beautifully among his silver curls and it makes your knees weak.

Joel however rolls his eyes.

“Next year we’ll just sneak in and take over the music. See what happens.” You offer.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Joel agrees gruffly.

It sounds like a promise.

You bid him good night until his eyebrows crinkle so classily grumpy Joel.

“Whadya doin’? Ain’t lettin’ ya walk home alone, sprout. Now come on.”

He continues walking as if nothing while your mind tries to recover being tilted on its axis for a bit.

Joel is walking you home.

And he called you sprout.

You want to cradle this new nickname so tenderly in your hands.

Joel quietly asks about your plans for the upcoming season, almost as if he’s trying to keep you focused.

To settle your flutter heart, you manage to ramble about the new incoming seeds you’ve heard about. You talk about your hopes of going to the beach more, not just to fish but to simply enjoy the ocean.

Among all that discussion, in a blink you’re back at your farm.

Instead of Joel rushing home, he lingers.

He checks your porch almost like he’s making sure the thing still stands.

“Hope one day to see that dang greenhouse up ‘n runnin.” He points to the broken greenhouse and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. You hope so too.

Then Joel moves to stand next to you on the land.

It feels different seeing him here.

Just a few weeks ago he was shouting every profanity known to man trying to fix your ancient water heater. He also glared at you the entire time.

Now he stands next to you suggesting on what to grow for the upcoming season.

“You could plant the tomatoes over on this side, give ‘em more shade to grow.”

Joel already reminds you of a back alley cat, one that hisses and refuses to let others near until he decides when to warm up to others. And, like a fresh new sprout, you want to soak up this warmth of him up.

“Also… Don’t forget to plant flowers.” He adds with a soft grumble.

“I won’t.” You grin impressed he remembered.

When you bid him goodnight and thank him again, you almost want to promise you’ll stop by with coffee tomorrow morning.

However that feels too much, like you might make the wrong move and spook him. But you do want to know if he makes it home okay. You can’t even bring yourself to ask him for his phone number.

So you watch Joel leave until your thoughts move fast and you blurt them out.

“Wait how will I know you made it back?”

Joel suddenly stops then glances back to you.

A very soft twinkle comes over his face and he gives you a crooked grin. It colors him with such a boyish expression. This new face of Joel feels sacred, special, and it steals your breath away.

“Hang outside for a bit. I’ll give ya sign, don’t worry.” He nods then melts into the darkness.

You stay frozen on the spot, not wanting to miss whatever it is. You wait, hoping he makes it back safe. Then out from the darkness, far down the path, you see it.

A light from Joel’s house blazes alive.

Then it flickers on and off, like someone flipping the switch a few times. The movement of it against the darkness even feels like a wave of some sorts.

You wish so badly to wave back.

Reassured that he’s home, you head back feeling as light as a feather.

Stepping onto your porch, something catches your eye.

Resting on the main railing barrier are a batch of tulips that were not there when you left.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You didn’t even see Joel place them there.

Delicately placed, the tulips so brilliantly colored sit warm and bright for you - the most beautiful end to your spring.

Though, in your heart, these blooms feel like something closer to a beginning.

[lunarw0rks]

farmer!price & sweet little girl next door!reader (yes i’m thinking about this pairing in the most perverted way possible)

a/n: here it is. the long-awaited neighbor!price fic <3 Hopefully, you all enjoy these Price crumbs. anon is onto something ;) & thx for the dog name ideas! ⊹。°˖➴ ao3 ver. // word count: 6.9k

// warning(s); nsfw (18+), implied age gap [r is mid-twenties, price is early/mid-forties], dadbod!price agenda, oral (r.), p/v unsafe sex, fem!reader

Price is living out his recluse dreams. Retired and secluded, finally! It was more than he’d wished for, honestly. He always desired a patch of land far from town, leaving out scraps for the critters, finding the simple pleasures.

But here he was, with a small, self-sufficient farm, growing enough to feed himself. It was a quiet, rewarding lifestyle. Entirely the opposite of his years in the service. Right now, he found himself conquering his lost list of mundane tasks. Watering his herbs, then sorting the junk that accumulated in his storage shed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After a grueling afternoon of unpacking, you needed to unwind. Right now, you found yourself lounging on your deck, head tilted back as you shielded your eyes from the summer sun. As if moving and assembling furniture wasn't exhausting enough — now you had the sweltering star beating down on you.

Abruptly, you feel something soft brush against your legs. Before you can open your eyes, there's a hefty weight plunged atop your lap. Your eyes snap open, greeted with the hot breath of a smiling golden retriever.

You caress the blonde fur, receiving several licks along your hand. "Zeus! down, boy!" A husky voice shouts, followed by the face to match it. The eager, not-so-small ball of fluff hops off your lap, prancing toward the man walking around the side of your house.

A charcoal gray t-shirt hugging his buff but girthy body. A man who's been in shape for years — arms bulging and tanned from hours of working outside, all whilst his older years have caught up to him a bit on his stomach, which stuck out with just a bit of fat cushion.

"My apologies, he knows better." He rubbed his head and flashed an apologetic look, exposing the faint abs you'd already imagined on him at first glance. Price's eyes wandered you from top to bottom, nearly forgetting to unfurrow his brow.

What a sight for sore eyes, you were.

You peer down at your lap, now stained with dirt in the shape of paws — on your thighs and the shorts you're wearing. "Oh, not a big deal! he gave me quite a scare, but it was a pleasant surprise." You look over at Zeus, his tail thwacking against his owner's leg.

For a few moments, all he did was leer, before he snapped himself out of it. "John," he steps forward as if going to shake hands but retracts hastily.

"—'m all covered in dirt, wouldn't want to get you dirtier than Zeus already has, hm?" He chuckles when he finishes his rhetorical, smearing the dirt onto his denim pants.

You shake your head and chuckle gently, “no room for pleasantries in the countryside, is there?” You case his appearance again, eyes skimming his muscles.

John flashes a polite smile, muttering a reply before hooking a finger around the Golden’s red collar. “Be seeing you.” He effectively leads the sparky dog out of your yard, preventing both any more surprise attacks and more ogling on his part.

Not only was getting a new neighbor a surprise, but her being so damn tempting — an entirely different genre of awe.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yesterday wasn’t your smoothest first impression. looking rugged and sweaty from unpacking, ending up covered in dirt and in awkward conversation. You wanted a second chance. He was going to be your neighbor after all — and it wasn’t like there were many others. John was the only one within reasonable walking distance, it seemed.

Now, wearing a sundress as opposed to sweat-caked shorts and a tee — you were more confident in your odds of at least being civil with your neighbor. At the very least, a man who would roll up your trash bins before a storm. Perhaps even supply a spare cup of sugar if you were being optimistic.

You trudge down the dirt road, careful not to roll your ankle on the unpredictable mounds of earth. For a few moments, you’re convinced you’ve gone the wrong way. It’s either dense forest, patches of crop, or more road ahead of you.

Lord knows you were exhausted yesterday, maybe the handsome neighbor was just a figment in your fried mind. A foolish thought — but one that worsened the longer you walked.

The tray in your hands; a few oatmeal dog biscuits and some cookies made from the recipe on the chocolate chip bag. It was better than coming empty-handed, wasn’t it? That would just be distasteful judgment.

With eyes glued ahead, you nearly let the handles of the platter slip when you finally spotted the lights in the distance. Golden-tinted and countless, illuminating the updated cabin. In the yard, lay a few scattered chewed ropes and muddy tennis balls. You could safely assume you made it to the suave man’s residence.

You knock on the oak door, seeing the hues of a television flickering through some of the bent blinds. After a few seconds of mumbling, the door swung open.

Price answered with a beer in one of his fists, instantly straightening his posture when he laid eyes on you. The sundress; cherry red with splotches of tiny florals. Dusk sunbeams highlighted your bone structure seamlessly — casting an ethereal glow on your captivating flesh.

Today, instead of gray, his shirt is army green and just as snug of a fit. You can't help but prolong your stare when he leans against the doorway, his bicep bulging even when he stands with nonchalance. He's even more of a knockout when not covered in dirt; though you suppose the same could be applied to you.

"This is a surprise." He glances at the tray in your hands, then at the polite smile on your face as you flash it in his direction.

With a beam, you extend the platter out and wait for him to take it. "I wasn't sure when to come. I hope I'm not intruding." You speak softly, catching a glimpse of his tidy living space.

“No such thing as intrusion around here, eh? ‘m practically searching for chores these days. A little conversation won’t bother me any.” Price chuckles a bit, flicking his head as an invitation for you to join him.

You step inside behind him, engulfed by the scent of tobacco and cedarwood. The cabin's interior walls have been stained with a warm tint, stretching throughout what bits of the space you can spot. Immediately through the front door is his kitchen, likely the most modernized of the rooms.

Distressed, truffle-colored counters in an L shape; altogether enough space for a man living alone. Yet, the countertops are anything but cluttered — nearly spotless, in fact. He slides the tray across the counter, finally unveiling the homemade treats for both human and man's best friend.

"Figured chocolate chip would be simple enough, right?" You speak up, watching him examine one of them. For a few moments, he's lost in thought again, not taking a bite.

You furrow your brows, "please don't tell me I baked the one dessert you don't like."

Instantaneously, a grin smears on his face, then a rumbly snicker. "Nothing like that," he bites the cookie in half and savors its sweetness, "—just not used to having neighbors this deep in the woods, you're my first. And she can bake too, huh? Aren't I lucky?" He teases a bit at the end, rinsing off some chocolate residue from his scarred fingertips.

Well, it was only the recipe on the back of a bag, so you surely hope it would taste decent. You decide it best to leave that out, merely twirling your thumbs as he shuffles around the space.

Finally, he walks back around the counter and holds out the same beer he sipped when he answered the door. Your reluctant fist wrapped around the brown bottle's glass neck, following him as he led you to the porch.

“Weren’t you watching something?” You question, sitting yourself beside him on the cement steps. Zeus’ collar jingle sounded once the back door closed, the sound a signal for him to join his owner out back.

John shook his head, taking another sip of the brew as his achy muscles relaxed again. “You’re doing me a favor; I could cut back on my screen time.” He reached out his free hand and gently patted the dog’s head, giving his fur a few strokes.

“Cut back? By the looks of your land, you’re outside all day.” You retort with a playful scoff, feeling the nuzzle of a wet nose along your leg. Without shame, you glance at his hands, observing their size and condition. “The callouses don’t lie.”

You piqued his interest at the mention of his hands, and he'd noticed just how long you were staring at them. "Suppose you're right, love." On purpose, he caressed the neck of the bottle with his thumb. He takes another hefty sip, which prompts you to take your first.

You didn't have the heart to tell him before how much you disliked the taste. The tangy beer coated your mouth and throat, seemingly sliding down at an agonizing pace just to prolong the torment. Still, the scrunch of your face spilled enough of the fib.

"Faces don't lie, either." Price mocked, taking the barely touched bottle from your grip. His words held double meaning — one harmless and one sinful — though that truth was unbeknownst to both of you.

In a matter of seconds, you'd been caught in a petty lie. You wipe away the bit that dripped between your lips. "Guess you caught me," you chortle, "I don't like beer much."

"Much? Don't be so modest." He screws the top back on and sets it on the wooden deck beside him. "You hate it, don't you?"

The way he spoke had you in some sort of trance. Perhaps it was his age, perhaps it was his obvious past of influence. It was... like being interrogated. Not in the pathetic way an inexperienced civilian would mock his way through, either. The agitation of being put on the spot — feeling as though you'd done something illegal the second you approach airport security.

That is what this felt like; only the words came tender and sportive.

“Alright, I hate it.” You affirm, unable to wipe the simper off your face. “We’ve officially made it through our first lie. That’s a milestone, right? Saves us the sting later.” Unintentionally, you haven’t broken your stare — even when he did to gaze at the sunset in front of him.

Later? Would this company become a routine? How wrong was it for him to hope it would?

Eventually, he nods and turns to face you again, shamelessly taking you in like it was the first time. “Ah, you’re like me. Ten steps ahead, got everything planned out already.” He questions, squinting slightly from the bright dusk, which was actively being snuffed by storm clouds. "Besides, I could tell your lie from miles away. The way you fumbled that bottle."

You waved a flustered hand of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. Point taken. I'll remember that next time."

John cocked a brow, "next time, eh? With no more fibbing?" He asked you jovially, once again putting you under his spotlight.

But this time you knew how to handle it. Besides, you had learned his ways of meaningless banter — despite only spending several minutes with the man. "Next time I'll make sure it's not so obvious, and you'll be none the wiser."

"It was more than how I held the bottle," you added accusingly. "You don't just afford a place like this with retirement savings. Not without sacrifices."

He was more than someone who once had a mundane, meaningless job. You could tell it from 'miles away' he was a man who had stories to tell. More than his scarred body already did, that was. A fierce career, a position of power — something cutthroat, literally.

Of course, you had no intention of prying. Screwing this relationship up prematurely would be a grave mistake.

Fortunately, he remained untouched by your suspicions; they intrigued him. And John, he knew you weren't wrong about him, either. He was one of the few souls who could confidently declare he'd seen it all — or the closest thing to it.

"Sacrifices... is a way to put it," his lips curled into a polite smile. Finally, he stopped staring holes into you and caught a whiff of musky petrichor in the air. "C'mon, we're due for rain. Get you inside before the mosquitos feast on us."

The same lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle to recall Zeus. He transformed from a blond dot in the distance into a prancing canine at the speed of light, slowing to a prance when he laid eyes on his owner.

With one hand, he held both bottlenecks between his thick fingers, then opened the back door with the other. Zeus nudged your legs and walked through them, determined to get inside first. The sight made you snicker as you walked inside, hearing the soft creak of the door behind you.

His work boots thudded against the wooden floor as he took them off, setting them neatly beside the door. Yet another unusual trait for men his age living alone, at least in your experience. No clutter in sight, and no grime residue from his tireless yard work.

Now, his steps are a glide instead of thuds when he walks around the breakfast bar. You turned to face him, watching as he ignited a burner for the kettle. "Do you fancy drinking something you'll actually enjoy? Tea?"

You lean against the island, unintentionally allowing a bit of the dress neckline to droop.

“Tea will work.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

In front of you were the only signs of his old self. Metals and ribbons encased behind a glass frame, hung up in the hall as a quaint display of his achievements. Below them, on the hall table, decorative mason jars; most with faux leaves and vines. You made your way up and down, admiring how the rustic, shipshape decor was placed with such intention.

As your gaze panned left to right, you made it to the end of the display. Interest arose when you examined the last jar; a small mason with a bullet inside, littered with indents and some bits chipped away. Your mind swirled with scenarios as you put together the story told in front of you. A career so intense, so all-important; it was difficult to imagine the man in the kitchen enmeshed in one.

In the distance, the kettle whistles, effectively ripping you from your peering. Before he can shout for you, you’ve walked around the corner, ready to claim a drink your mouth will savor.

“Here you are.” Across the marble countertop, Price slid forward the mug.

A green tea of sorts, with a bit of cream on top and a dust of cinnamon. The presentation is nowhere near seamless, with its lopsided spoonful of foam and granules that ended up sprinkled unevenly through his fingers. Still, there was nothing wrong with a drink that looked homemade.

“Matcha?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the mug, then using your supporting hand to hold the small plate it’s resting on.

Price glances at the tea box through the frosted glass cabinets then nods. When he presses his own mug to his lips, the tea is ebony and swirling like a cyclone from the sugar he mixed in.

From the corner of your eye, you skim past him and gaze out the window overlooking the deep copper sink. Through its rectangular pane, you see the string of herbs and leaves grown — well-tended and used often in his cooking, surely.

You point a free finger towards the fresh greens outside, “do you grow it?”

He lets out a rumbly chuckle and shakes his head, “if I could. Matcha plants are loads of work.” You now spot the pasty green box poking through the cabinet, which you hadn’t noticed when too occupied with the herb planters.

You mutter a ‘hm’ in response and raise the porcelain rim to your lips, feeling the steam scald the tip of your nose and Cupid's bow. The vegetal fragrance of the green tea soothes your senses — just before the spice of cinnamon gives them a right hook.

To keep your eyes from tearing, you close them and take your first sip. It’s thicker than you anticipated, coating your mouth and throat as you swallow, yet the taste is pleasant and earthy.

Whatever John had done to prepare it, he did it correctly. That much you could tell.

Before your throat can sizzle with aftertaste, the cold foam dollop calms it. From grassy, fresh matcha to a striking sweet cream.

“You have a bit…” Price motions to his mouth, an index pointed toward the left corner of his mouth. The cream is too airy for you to notice any accidental residue. You’ve missed the swear twice before he sighs and raises a crumpled napkin to your lips.

You meet gazes while he dabs at your bottom lip, feeling any confidence seep from you in an instant.

The sweet aroma fleeted instantly with the proximity, now with your nostrils flooded with his fragrance. Smokey and masculine; something rum-adjacent, mixed sinfully with cedarwood and the earthy smell of crisp soil. And then, lastly, there are the pungent remnants of his minty mouthwash, which is slightly diluted by the black tea he swallowed.

This close, you can trace every wrinkle and line with your eyes. While you’re engulfed in his presence, he’s observing. Smothered and suffocating with the weight of diminishing continence. The vermillion sundress, the tray of goodies in the corner of his vision, the twitch of your lips as he dabs and drags with the linen.

Price has yet to notice his other hand, grabbing the tip of your chin with a feather-like hold.

But you have, blinking rapidly a few times while the chalky foam is rid of your mouth, which might as well have been thrown in the trash along with the napkin — because you’ve turned reticent.

“There.” He whispers, mouth curling into a polite glow.

Ultimately, your haze falters. Your senses unfreeze when you’re no longer swarmed by his aroma, or his tender touch when he walks back around the breakfast bar. Warmth coaxes your fingers, still emanating from the tea snug in your grip — even after the milky olive-tinted liquid has gone tepid.

With a perpetually widened gaze, you raised your mug to finish off the rest of your tea. This neighborly visit had played out differently than you expected. You savored about half of the lukewarm brew, letting it mellow the pining that arose when he got close. Sweaty fingers fumbled around the handle when you tipped the cup again, sending a gush of tea down the front of your outfit. The fabric stained instantaneously as the warmth soaked in, whilst the sugary cream made the dress cling in an unsavory, sticky fashion.

You cursed audibly and darted your gaze towards him apologetically, setting the mug down with a clammer. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling an ocean’s wave of dishonor pummel through you at once.

John, who was mid-cleanup, jerked his head to the side when he heard the commotion. When greeted with the frazzled expression, he made an effort to soothe it. It wasn’t your fault; it was only some overpriced, boxed infusion that had collected dust in the back of his cabinet. 

Besides, you were in front of him, now in soaked clothing and apologizing profusely.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us.” That damn smile again. The wrinkles around his eyes, the almost all-knowing look of understanding in them.

He fisted your discarded mug, turning on the sink.

“The washroom is down the hall, in my room. It has a better mirror than the half.” Price wavers through his instructions, overcome with his own helping of uncertainty. Nothing had gone explicitly wrong, per se, but it didn’t mean they went right. But they never do, do they? There’s a reason he decided on a life of recluse, even more, a reason for him to befriend seclusion so closely.

Your footsteps retreated down the hall, passing the picture frames and decor you had been admiring moments ago. John scrubbed both mugs until they were full of suds and then rinsed, placing them on the dish rack afterward. He made it a habit to never leave used dishes to sit in the sink.

Quickly, he walked through the open door of his bedroom. Golden beams peeked out from the gap under the door, where you were frantically blotting the stains. He pulled the string on his bedside lamp, illuminating a majority of the moody, rustic bedroom. His fingers hooked around the handle, gently sliding open the pocket doors of his closet.

His t-shirts hung neatly on the left wall, whilst his fewer button-ups remained on the opposite. With a quick hum, he took hold of his baggiest navy blue tee, draping it over his forearm. From inside his dresser, he grabbed a pair of sweats that were tight on him — enough to prevent them from slipping down your legs.

Inside the bathroom, you alternated between being hunched over the counter in embarrassment, to rubbing your dress profusely. The damp washcloth was doing little to the fabric, which was a few shades darker from the liquid, compressing tighter against you. It wasn’t a flattering look, nor was it a comfortable fit anymore. Akin to the feeling of maple syrup residue on your hands after breakfast, only it was covering the front of your body.

Would it have been better to spill on his authentic wood floors? Was it completely selfish to prefer it, to spare the discomfort of a soaked garment?

Two subdued knocks on the door halted your useless wiping. “I have some clothes.” The gruff voice spoke through the door, yet remained as placid as it was in the kitchen.

“Oh, no need,” you replied dismissively through the door. “I can change at home.” You tossed the wet towel into the small hamper. When you opened the door, Price remained standing there, fresh clothing in hand.

The thought was there, and now were the actions to go along. You didn’t want to change at home or be walking down that dirt avenue at all. At this hour, home would be lonesome and still, regardless of whether your new neighbor was fanciable or not.

But he was; that made him all the harder to decline.

Void of any attempt on John’s part, his gaze scanned the mess that covered you. This time, more obvious than he would’ve liked. It felt wrong; downright distasteful and discouraging, to do so.

Howbeit, he did — and you sensed it this time. The unavoidable gawking at your snug gown, devouring his dwindling abstinence. No unease, imminence, or desire to dismiss yourself ever came. Not like it did with men on the street, who resembled that of depraved, hungry hounds.

John wasn’t corrupted; behind the lust, there was something more, something too complex to daydream.

“Nonsense.” He persisted, the clothes remaining outstretched. “It’s raining. And you’ve got to walk quite a way, don’t you?”

You leaned your head against the thick wood of the door, unable to spit out another worthy excuse. “Thank you. Really.” With a nod, you took the folded clothing, setting the pieces on the countertop beside you. As he accepted your answer and turned on his heels, you mustered the gut to speak again.

“And, John?” You stepped through the threshold of the door, “if I go home in these clothes, you probably won’t get them back.”

“I’ll keep the dish, then.” This time, he didn’t back away after stepping closer. “Do we have a deal?” His breathing picked up subtly but was noticeable against your face. When faced with his proximity before, you fumbled a mug. But now, you were certain of every ache and desire troubling you.

Whoever leaned in first became a fleeting afterthought. It didn’t matter, not while your mouths and noses clashed together. He was the first to give way, to tilt his head to relieve the pressure on your nose, which allowed him more mobility.

Your knees nearly buckled when his hands cupped your cheeks — how the calloused prints of his fingers felt against the opposing texture of your face. It felt natural; a relief to every urge you’ve stifled from the moment he answered his door.

Before you broke away for air, he removed his lips while still maintaining his tender hold on your face.

“Are you sure about this…?” Price posed, pressing his forehead against yours. You exchanged each other's exhales, cloaking your racing thoughts with a suffocating, dizzy effect.

Still, regardless of your thundering heartbeat and draining lungs — you uttered the quickest yes of your lifetime. This time, you turned your head when lips and teeth clashed, back colliding with the door. Your lips parted as you panted, letting his tongue swipe along your lips, leaving them saturated. His beard audibly scraped against your jaw and down your neck, producing goosebumps as you shivered.

Though his movements weren’t theatrical or jaw-dropping, they left you unable to lose focus. His hands wrapped around the sleeves of the ruined gown, rolling the fabric down while he dropped into a kneel before you.

A need to provide, to satisfy, to satiate. No teases, no dramatics; just utter experience. The only terms you would associate with him currently.

The clingy fabric peeled off like a sticky bandage, peeling to expose the damn stain from cleavage to your pelvis. John’s briefly raised to suckle between your breasts, cleaning off every drop of the tea that had soaked through the discarded dress. Down; sternum to belly button, savoring the small remnants of the sweet cream.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, lips pressed to your lower stomach. His hands moved and kneaded your hips in worship. Despite his face hovering in front of your panties, and how he was actively trailing kisses along your thighs — his voice never changed. Not cloaked with blind lust or hesitation.

Admiration, purely; for you, maybe only your body. But you didn’t care about that — or couldn’t — right now. John was utterly too much, From light conversation to huddling in the restroom, then to being backed against the door. One hand rested on your lower stomach, as a means of keeping your back against the door. The other rolled your undergarments down at a sluggish pace, beard and lips following the falling undies.

Your neck craned down, seeing them fall to your ankles, shortly before the cold breeze hit your exposed core — emanating from the bathroom window left slightly ajar. The muscles in your thighs tense when Price’s tongue finally makes brief contact with it, blown pupils still staring up at you.

His tongue lay flat against your clit for a few moments until saliva rolled down his tongue, allowing him to delve deeper. Further on, he would kiss and suckle on the bundle of nerves, and you were sure your grip on the knob couldn’t have been firmer. Experience truly was the right word to describe him, earlier and now more than ever.

Along your slit, he plunged inside, growly breaths vibrating against your sensitivity. Your taste coated his mouth, and your natural scent drove him mad; like no other partner he’d had before.

“Wanna feel you—” Price slurped again, then pulled away to finish, “—clench around my fingers. You want that, sweetheart?” His tongue glistened under the spotty lighting, his buff chest still heavy. He was goddamn distracting in this state, more than he was before.

After a flash of muteness, you nodded your head. As if you could pass up that offer; if it was an offer at all.

True to his word and the desires racing through his head, John slipped his middle finger inside your entrance. Instantly, the appendage glided against the soaked, puffy walls of your cunt, causing him to chuckle with satisfaction.

Even the smallest pump forced a whine from your lips, though you were unsure what you should be pleading for. Tonight, this feeling was already unsurpassed.

“Another, huh? Can’t fuckin’ say no to you, can I?” Next entered his ring finger, the thick digits stretching you out delectably, in ways you could only dream of executing with your own two fingers.

His name slipped out when he curled them against your sweet spot, daring your knees to buckle and send both of you tumbling. His eerily observant nature had him anticipating the sudden weakness, and his other hand holding you in place never once faltered. Finding his shaggy hair, your fingers intertwined with the locks, purely to be holding onto anything of his when you inevitably come undone.

Back to slobbering, his tongue ran laps against your swollen clit, the tip of his nose knocking against it with every pass. Each flick, each thrust making your back arch wildly against the door. And once again, as he anticipated, you ended up clenching around his fingers like he wanted.

So tense, it was any wonder Price was able to keep moving his fingers. His erection pressed against his thigh, the tight denim making him resist the urge to squirm. Oh, how you sounded, how you felt. His years of stamina and strength training will surely be tested once it’s his cock filling you up instead.

The nub throbbed and visibly pulsed when he combined a well-timed lick and curl all at once, plunging you off that cliff of release. Around his head, your thighs clamped tighter than the fingers digging into his scalp. It was clear you’d be reeling this feeling for days to come, probably a climax to forever be unbeaten during your life.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, your lungs exhausted and working overtime as you sucked in desperate breaths. “Fuck— that was…” You breathed, unable to articulate any one of the feelings assaulting your system.

The leer tugging at the corners of his soaked mouth wasn’t smug, it was pleased; pleasantly. Slowly, he raised himself, holding each side of your face. Price slurred, “You sound lovely when you cum, y’know that?” Before you could lift a finger to answer again, his dangerous tongue swirled around yours, spreading the taste of yourself against your taste buds.

Your sticky inner thighs glided when he blindly led you out of the threshold, collapsing atop you. The frame creaked under the weight of both of you, the mattress now with a crater in the center of it.

“Want you to fuck me, John. Please.” You pleaded between kisses, unconsciously wrapping a leg around his waist for any friction on the mess he caused. The sensitive tip of his cock ached, despite only being rocked against through the thick denim.

As if your sounds of pleasure weren’t divine enough, that fucking word was. Please. So desperate, so distraught. If he had the restraint or the patience, Price might coax a few more begs out of you — but those were the two things he didn’t have currently.

Briefly, his touches ceased when he leaned back. Swiftly unbuckling his belt, he slid out of his jeans and tossed them aside; discarded, now the only clutter in the bedroom. Soaked through his grey briefs, a stain of pre-cum, merely proving how badly he needed you. The same as his jeans, he rid himself of them, erection upright and freed.

Girthy and curved upward a hair, capable of reaching deeper than his fingers. Down his happy trail, which you got a peak of during the first encounter, were his trimmed pubes. The same shade of brown as the hair littering his chest. You examined further, spotting a few prominent veins bound to drive you mad.

Any longer without it, and you were willing to start pawing at him. The stars must’ve been aligned, because pleading wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Spread your legs f’me.” You did, as swiftly as he uttered the command. As wide as comfortable, you exposed the mess of your pussy to him, reflecting off the cool moonlight peaking through his blinds. Glistening and twitching from the first climax, remnants still left around your inner thighs. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you proper, hm? Have you clenching around me?”

As if his fingers weren’t euphoric enough. Gnawing on your bottom lip until it ached, you nodded your head eagerly, hooking an arm around your leg to keep the shaky limb steady.

Price gripped the base of his cock, guiding it toward your entrance. The tip slipped in as smooth as honey, coated in slick and strings of his saliva leftover. With a drenched glide, the rest of him dipped inside, until his pelvis was against yours.

Entirely crammed inside, your head lolled back against the comforter, reeling in the painless stretch of his girth. And how, before the movements began, the natural curve of his cock had him snug against your cervix, kissing all the right places within you. Your fingers trailed downward, beginning to rub circles around your responsive clit, the wet clicks combining with the squelch of his thrusts.

Whatever noises came from you were all-natural and uncontrollable, from a sensual place within you never trespassed. John grunted with every tighten around his length, pumping deeply and with more force. His thoughts earlier rang true, how little restraint you left him with. Already, he could’ve finished inside of you — just from the view of your body alone.

Breasts bouncing, hips jiggling, the sounds of your soaked core, the expression on your face as he got rougher. “Such a good girl, takin’ every inch of me,” his words came out grunts, matching the pace of his jabs.

“You’ll cum for me again, and let me hear those bloody sounds, won’t you? Fuckin’ touching yourself, all needy.” For him, the words acted as a distraction until you came undone for a second time. For you, it enhances your stimulation tenfold — his voice was like nectar, yet it rumbled through the room like thunder.

It mixed with the real thunder outside, which you caught bits of between everything. The rain he said the area was due for, faintly coming down in the distance, and surely headed this way by the time your legs shook.

With a soft nudge, he shimmied closer between your thighs, chest inches from yours, and allowed him to slam against your cervix. Your fingers had gone erratic, desperately teasing the bundle of nerves the closer you got to release.

And John, sure of this, allowed himself to focus on a fraction of his pleasure. You twitched around his length, swallowing every last inch of him. Arousal dribbled from you to the bed, soaking into the navy blue duvet.

When the coil of pleasure began bursting at the seams, his name slipped out again, in between your gasps for oxygen. How his thrusts had turned as sloppy as your fingers, every jerk of his pelvis knocking the wind out of you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, feet hooking under his backside to keep him locked in — as if the thought of stopping had ever crossed his mind.

Thighs quivering like your fingers were, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his flesh. Yet another string of moans poured out of you, which tipped John over the edge same edge you’d tumbled off twice. His balls contracted while they drained, strings of pearly cum painting you on the inside.

Warmth filled you, from your tummy to your core, his length swimming in his own sloppy release. Your constricted ab muscles slowly eased up as the aftermath of orgasm faded, leaving you breathless and spent. His agape mouth dipped down as he withdrew his softening cock from you slowly, careful to not leave you any more sensitive than you already were.

The kiss distracted you and served as a reminder of what this hookup meant. Not regretful, not meaningless. Something lingered in the air, beyond the smell of sweat and sex.

Though his body begged to collapse atop you and fall fast asleep, you deserved to be taken care of. Price planted a parting kiss on your jaw, making the short trip to the bathroom to grab one of his fresh washcloths.

Silently, you observed his tenderness take over — even though it never left him. With a few featherlike swipes, he wiped away the messy aftermath of arousal, saliva, and cum, disposing of the used towel somewhere in the darkness.

You fought to stay awake, feeling his weight sink beside you once more after some squirming around. Eventually, John successfully got you and himself under the thick comforter, weighted and radiating as much warmth as your bodies. An arm snaked under your head, your back against his chest. The other arm around your waist, keeping you right up against his soft body.

He waited until he saw the rise and fall of your frame, the faint breaths of deep sleep before he decided that was permission enough to do the same.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Insects chirped loudly, enough to stir you awake.

Fresh morning light peaked through the blinds, which had been opened. Through your twitching lids, the intensity made your face scrunch. One hand reached up and rubbed them, while the other palmed beside you.

No sign of your neighbor, if he can have that title after last night.

His side had gone cold, and anything that was askew had been picked up or set back in place. Sitting yourself up, you groaned from hunger and the soreness in your legs. Beside the dresser, were the sweatpants and t-shirt he was going to lend you yesterday. Still neatly folded, placed with care on one of his leather armchairs.

You peeled the comforter off your sticky skin, coated with a layer of sweat from the sunlight on you. Usually overheating would’ve had you lying awake and sizzling, but it was clear that Price had thoroughly tired you out.

In addition to the shirt and pants, he provided a clean pair of boxers — since the ones you came over wearing had been long soiled. And nowhere to be found in the bathroom, where you made your best effort to fix up your appearance.

Aside from the sounds of nature, there was the hum of an appliance when you opened the bedroom door. Down the hall, you passed the dryer; the root of the tumbling sound. Through the small window, was your cherry sundress and underwear, half dry and spinning in circles.

Your bare feet adjusted to the cold wood, taking small, sleepy strides down the hall.

Into the living room, you laid eyes on the shelves around his television. Since you spent most of the visit on the porch, in the kitchen, and obviously the bedroom, you hadn’t had time to inspect this area closely.

Custom-built shelves frame the television. Rustic, meticulous decor placed on them. Some were store-bought, others looked to be souvenirs and memories. Stepping closer, you spotted a few framed photos; four soldiers, with Sharpie written on the corner: 1-4-1.

On the bright side, there is one mystery solved about his past. Military, or SAS, which you spot on their patches. Shuffling along, your gaze sets on the next section. More medals and ribbons, each most likely with their own significance.

Most notably, a plaque displaying his full name and title: Capt. Jonathan Price.

Another mystery solved. Why he had been so observant, so skilled at asking his questions. It all began to make sense, especially the closer you examined the relics. With a slight hm, you decided it best to stop snooping on the man’s possessions and continue your search for him.

No sign of Zeus in the house either, which isn’t shocking since he’s practically sewn to John’s hip.

Through the kitchen you go, finally picking up on the faint voice outside. Through the window overlooking the copper sink, you see Price tending to the herbs you pointed out the previous day, seemingly making conversation with his canine.

You continue on, opening the creaky patio door and shutting it behind you. You walk along the stained wood deck, rounding the corner. He’s in the middle of kneeling down, meticulously planting another herb or seasoning for his mini-garden.

“Looking good, Captain.” You startle him slightly, leaning a shoulder against the paneling of the cabin.

Price’s head perks up, snapping to the side at the sudden sound. And Zeus predictably treks over for your undivided attention, and you’re unable to refuse. The golden walks beside you when you approach further, and John gets to his feet with a small grunt.

“Snooping again, are we?” His lips curl into a harmless smile, dirt-covered fingers playing with the backs of your hands.

You shrug your shoulders, unable to conceal the feelings of fluster. Being put on the spot was something you’d have to get used to, that’s for sure. “Maybe I was. Just a little bit.”

“Careful now, sweetheart.” His voice molds into that of a superior, which you hadn’t heard from him yet. Was it twisted how much it excites you? Price continued, “or I might have you calling me Captain from here on.”

With a light scoff, you muster the last bits of confidence left in you.

“Is that a promise?”

♡‧₊˚✧˖° divider cred. - cafekitsune

[lilirari]

🧋 everyone thinks pedri should stop pining for you because you 'don't give a f*ck' about him but they don't know what your actual relationship with the footballer is.

💌 pedri gonzález x fem! joao felix's bff! reader (social media au)

🌟 cw : pedri being a total simp, cheesy pick-up lines, translated spanish & portuguese sentences, timelines don't matter

💭 author's note : this is for my beloved pookie @leclercloml ! ilysm <3 idk if the ending parts make sense but please just bear with it 😞

instagram 🎥

yourinstagram

📍 new york city, usa

liked by pedri, joaofelix79, jennaortega and 13,193,299 others

yourinstagram the wind was a paid actor

view all 17,929 comments

pedri 😍😍😍

pedri eres la chica más hermosa que he visto en mi vida.

pedri i ought to complain to spotify for you not being named this week's hottest single

-> spotify complaint received 😉

-> user59 oh spotify's definitely on the pedri x y/n agenda

pedri do you happen to have a band-aid ? i just scrapped my knees falling for you

-> yourinstagram deserved fall down again

-> user80 HELPDHSHDHSHDH WHY IS SHE LIKE THIS

-> user44 poor pedri but this is kind of funny 😭

jennaortega my favourite girl (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

mikkykiemeney 🫶🫶🫶

saraguendogan gorgeous !!!

user45 the way two of the most popular barça wags are in her comments.. joão really must've introduced her to everyone in barça by now 😭

joaofelix79 minha linda melhor amiga 🥰

-> yourinstagram te amo joao 🫶

user33 babe wake up pedrizz gonzález is in the comments of y/n's post again

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yourinstagram

📍 ibiza

liked by pedri, joaofelix79, ferrantorres and 15,364,748 others

yourinstagram i love pink <3

view all 20,273 comments

pedri and i love you 🥰😘

-> yourinstagram ew

pedri ¿dónde has estado toda mi vida? 😍

pedri if beauty was a crime, you would've been sentenced for life in prison

-> user11 omg this is actually so good y/n please accept his love 😞

emmamyers 🩷🩷🩷

ferrantorres ❤️

liked by yourinstagram

joaofelix79 my prettiest girl 🫶

-> yourinstagram joao best boy !!!

user34 pedri should just stop trying to win y/n's heart man she clearly has no interest in him he's just wasting his time..

user50 i want a friendship like y/n and joão's 🥹

user96 is something going on between y/n and ferran ?? 🤔

user23 wait i'm a new barça fan and i came from x after seeing a post about pedri commenting on this girl's post.. who is she exactly ?

-> user22 she's y/n l/n, an upcoming model and also the bff of joão félix ! ^^

-> user23 ooh she's so pretty i get why pedri wants her lol

user82 huh ?? wasn't y/n in new york like literally yesterday ? how is she already in ibiza 😭

-> user25 queen's working so hard fr 😞

user75 pedrito i know you'll get the girl of your dreams someday i'm rooting for you !!!

liked by pedri

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yourinstagram

📍 lisbon, portugal

liked by pedri, joaofelix79, frenkiedejong and 20,182,838 others

tagged mikkykiemeney, saraguendogan, annalewandowska, taia_belloli, joaofelix79

yourinstagram on a trip with my girls (there's an imposter among us)

view all 25,999 comments

pedri quisiera ser joyero para poder apreciar un diamante como tú todos los días 🤍

-> yourinstagram bro please stop before i block you 🧍‍♀️

-> user77 pedri i think you should listen to her y/n can be absolutely ruthless 😭

pedri ok but why did joão get invited and i didn't ?

-> yourinstagram bc you're not one of the girls ???

-> pedri and joão is ??

-> yourinstagram yeah !!! ☺️

-> joaofelix79 i was forced to tag along against my own will, hermano 😞

mikkykiemeney had so much fun with you, love ! 🫶

annalewandowska thanks for inviting me, angel ❤️

joaofelix79 who's the best tour guide & chauffeur ??

-> yourinstagram you are !! 🥰🥰 thanks for making this trip fun and memorable, amor 🫶

-> joaofelix79 yeah yeah i accept thanks only in cash and credit

saraguendogan 💋💋

taia_belloli mi novia 🥰

user23 AHHH Y/N WITH THE BARÇA WAGS

user81 OMG THOSE POOL PICTURES OF Y/N AND SARA ARE SO PRETTY

user43 wait does this mean y/n is a barça wag ?

-> user19 i don't think so but i also won't be surprised if she's dating one of the guys

-> user01 nah, i think she just got really close with the wags because of félix

user99 MOTHER IS MOTHERING !!!

user45 MY WIVES 💅

user55 can pedri please just give up on pursuing y/n.. she's CLEARLY not interested in you bro

-> pedri 🙉

-> user39 shut up man he clearly doesn't give a fuck about what people like you are saying

user26 no bc are we sure joão and y/n are not dating ?

-> user34 yep pretty sure

-> user84 they sure are sus for two best friends who call each other 'amor' and say 'ily' to e/o all the time

-> user07 i'm sure it's just in a platonic way, man

-> user02 what ? can't two people of the opposite gender say ily and still be only friends ? this is just a healthy friendship bro

user43 y/n please notice pedri and treat him properly challenge 😞🙏

user46 AHHH i hope joão showed them all the best places in lisbon ❤️🇵🇹

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yourinstagram

📍 paris, france

🎼 my love mine all mine : mitski

liked by joaofelix79, oliviarodrigo, gigihadid and 33,127,289 others

yourinstagram bts for the photoshoot of a new magazine cover for vogue ! oh, and i got some flowers today ;) 💐

view all 42,569 comments

joaofelix79 nice flowers

joaofelix79 who's that man though 👀

-> yourinstagram idk you tell me 🫣

jennaortega already omw to pre-order 1000 copies of the magazine

-> yourinstagram please i love you 😭🫶

gigihadid perfection 🫶

-> yourinstagram love u gigi

heidiklum 🤍🖤

konichan7 🥰

adrianalima xoxo 💋

_ferminlopez 🤭

-> user77 ariana what are you doing here

user34 some of the biggest names in the modelling industry are here in the comments... y/n really has come so far i'm so proud of you girl 🥹

user27 here for y/n's famous era !!!

user97 our prettiest princess !!! we love you y/n 💌

user36 SIS IS THAT A MAN I SEE BEHIND YOU 😧

user05 don't be shy y/n show us a picture of the man in the second slide

user72 the song... the picture... the flowers... HAVE WE LOST Y/N TO A MAN ???

user55 um guys where's pedri ?

-> user78 EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING

-> user40 WHERE'S OUR GOLDEN BOY AND HIS SHITTY PICK-UP LINES

user95 pedri's @ is not there in the likes...

user33 no cringey pick-up line comments from pedri and he's not in the likes either.. what's happening..

user67 i'm guessing that man must be her bf ??

user15 well ig at least we all know that the man with her is not pedri since he's nowhere to be found 🤷‍♀️

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yourinstagram

📍 barcelona, spain

liked by pedri, joaofelix79, louispartridge_ and 40,932,389 others

yourinstagram hi barcelona

view all 45,693 comments

joaofelix79 what are you doing here

-> yourinstagram came to visit you bestie 🥰🥰🥰 i missed you sooooo much

-> joaofelix79 what a liar 🙄

oliviarodrigo love u girlie

alejandrobalde 🤍

liked by yourinstagram

taia_belloli you are glowing, sis !!!

jennierubyjane pretty in white ♡

alexiaputellas 💓💘

user13 my sunshine !!! 💛☀️

user04 what's balde doing here 😧

user82 BALDE ??? HELLO ????

user75 pedri in the likes but still no comment...

user16 what is happening with y/n and the barça boys

user30 damn i kinda miss pedri's comments 😭

user27 has pedri finally stopped trying to rizz y/n up ??

-> user08 i hope so.. he doesn't deserve her she seems so annoying

-> user89 how exactly is she annoying ??

-> user08 she's always dismissing/ignoring his comments and being mean to him what a bitch

-> user89 i don't think she's actually being mean though.. and if he isn't bothered by the way she acts then why are you ?

-> user75 please stop calling y/n names and trying to make her a villain she's an absolute angel

liked by pedri, joaofelix79, jennaortega and others

user66 the way we see different barça players comment on her post everyday 🧍‍♀️ guess today's man of the day is balde

user05 THAT DRESS IS GORG SIS

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yourinstagram 10 minutes ago | pedri 2 minutes ago

seen by joaofelix79, pablogavi, frenkiedejong and 17,929,199 others

y/n's dms 🏷️

☆ joaofelix79 replied to your story !

husband ??? 😰😱

yourinstagram

yuh

☆ user56 replied to your story !

HUSBAND ???? QUEEN WHO ???

☆ user69 replied to your story !

please tell me that's just a beyonce reference and you don't actually have a husband.. 🥹

twitter 🫖

imessage 💬

mi esposa 💌

i think it's time

mi esposo ❤️‍🩹

wait really ? are you sure about this ?

mi esposa 💌

yeah 100% sure i'm ready

mi esposo ❤️‍🩹

alright then

mi esposa 💌

it's been a good run, hasn't it ?

mi esposo ❤️‍🩹

it sure has...

3 years ain't that bad

mi esposa 💌

frfr !!

we're a bit too good at this 🤭

mi esposo ❤️‍🩹

i second that

mi esposa 💌

i'll drop a head's up now

see you on the other side 🫡

mi esposo ❤️‍🩹

let's go give the world a shock, mi amor 🫶

twitter 🫖

instagram 🎥

yourinstagram

📍 tenerife, canary islands

liked by pedri, joaofelix79, jennaortega and 50,199,143 others

tagged pedri

yourinstagram i'm guessing this wasn't the type of news y'all were expecting, huh ? jokes on all of you bc pedrito and i have actually been together for three years now. we were just a bit too good at hiding our relationship 🤭 anyways happy three years together, mi amor, and also happy 6 months of our marriage ! te amare por siempre, my golden boy 🤍

view all 60,000 comments

pedri my gorgeous girl

pedri te amo, mi vida 🫶

liked by yourinstagram

pedri te voy a denunciar a la policía por robarme el corazón

-> yourinstagram oh no ! i can't be behind bars now — i've got my whole life ahead of me ! 😰

joaofelix79 ahh finally !!! keeping your relationship a secret was probably the hardest thing i ever had to do in my entire life

-> yourinstagram you're the absolute best joão thank you 🫶

-> joaofelix79 as i've said before, i accept thanks in only cash and credit

-> yourinstagram sending you some money rn

-> joaofelix79 😁😁😁

jennaortega my favourite couple !!!

-> yourinstagram my maid of honour 🥹🫶

pablogavi ❤️

gigihadid still in awe over this look of yours you really are the prettiest bride

mikkykiemeney 😍😍😍

annalewandowska my babies 🥹🥹

fcbarcelona the best couple 🫶

ferrantorres ❤‍🔥

user81 .... girl what

user90 WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUVK

user12 three years... THREE YEARS ?????

user04 not only have you been together for three years but URE FRICKING MARRIED ????

user24 HOW TF DID NO ONE KNOW ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP

user46 HUHHHHHHHHHHH 😧😧😧😧😧😧

user57 we are all fvcking clowns

user68 another day of blaugrana being an entire circus

user38 THREE YEARS ???? but félix joined barça only this year.. huh how did you guys meet i'm confused

-> yourinstagram pedri and i have actually known each other for a long time now 😭 most of you may just know me as joão's bff but only some people know that i'm friends with pedri's brother hehe so we got to know each other through fernando :)

user72 HOW DID YOU GUYS HID YOUR RELATIONSHIP FROM US FOR THREE HECKING YEARS ? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE ?????

user01 HOW DID THE MEDIA AND PAPARAZZI NOT CATCH YOU WHAT

user07 goodness idek how to react to this

user29 wait so you were just pretending to hate pedri in your previous posts... but why ?

-> yourinstagram oh it was just a bet we made when joão joined barça this year. most of you knew me only when joão joined barça and pedri and i had already been working on our marriage plans by then. we've hid the facts about our relationship for three years now but marriage is a huge thing and there was no way we could hide our wedding for years so we just wanted to see how long it would take for the paparazzi to catch up on the news lol. to help hide our marriage a little longer, we just pulled an unrequited love act on my instagram posts and i pretended to ignore him irl too for fun 🤭

-> user57 this is absolutely insane... you guys are geniuses

-> user80 OKAY BUT WHO WON THE BET THOUGH ???

-> yourinstagram technically no one since we both thought the news wouldn't get out until next year but we're spending our honeymoon in barcelona rn and we just got a bit too bold in public and sadly got caught 😞

yourinstagram ok correction you guys we never really hid our rs tbh i guess you guys just never knew me or like paid much attention to things so it just got really easy to date him without having to deal with the media 🤷‍♀️

-> user03 now that i think about it... i feel like you've appeared in a few of the gonzález family photos, y/n 🤔

-> yourinstagram yes i have ! but if i remember correctly, most people just thought i was fernando's gf or sumn 😭

-> user99 omg we were so fucking blind 🧍‍♀️

-> user67 well we just never expected pedri to have enough rizz to pull a beauty queen like you ig

-> pedri HEY

-> yourinstagram LMAO FOULLLLLL

user44 i love how y/n just spilled the whole tea to us 🥹 she's so iconic

user12 GOD I LOVE Y/N SO MUCH FOR THIS LITTLE STORYTIME UNDER THE COMMENTS

user06 THEY'RE SO FUCKING ADORABLE I LOVE YNPEDRI

user55 SUCH A BEAUTIFUL WEDDING DRESS 🤍

user21 what is with joão and money though LMAO

-> joaofelix79 if barça doesn't have enough money to buy me, then i'll provide them the money instead

-> user02 I'M IN TEARS THIS IS SO ICONIC OF YOU JOÃO

-> user74 LMFAO WHAT A LEGEND

user23 PEDRI IN THAT FOURTH SLIDE DAYUMMMM

user16 i hate you both so much for lying to us for so long but also congratulations on getting married !!! 🥹

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pedri

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pedri feliz aniversario, mi vida 🤍

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♡ translations of pedri's pick-up lines !

“eres la chica más hermosa que he visto en mi vida.”

: you are the most beautiful girl i have ever seen in my life.

“¿dónde has estado toda mi vida?”

: where have you been all my life ?

“quisiera ser joyero para poder apreciar un diamante como tú todos los días.”

: i would like to be a jeweler so i can appreciate a diamond like you every day.

“te voy a denunciar a la policía por robarme el corazón.”

: i will report you to the police for stealing my heart.

© LILIRARI, 2023 ★

[alchemistc]

catie i'm kissing your tags on this. especially the part about tommy thinking he's being horrifyingly open https://www.tumblr.com/alchemistc/780001978282541056?source=share

#complimentary to all of this is something i like to call Scorpio Honesty#when you try to relate to people with open vulnerability but you never do more rhan scratch the surface of an issue#but the moment you admit something you've gotta smooth it over because when you say it out loud it sounds INSANE#it SOUNDS like a trauma dump instead of a Fun Fact#and you gotta walk it back#turn heel and return the conversation to the other person#make a joke about it#deflect into something else#try to make it sexy instead#tommy does that shit over and over and over#its a learned response#because Someone Could Get In Trouble if you tell the whole honest truth#and you don't want to rock the boat#i don't necessarily think tommy has internalized any of that but#when you drop bits and pieces of lore it FEELS like you have overexposed yourself#but the truth is the way he goes about honesty there's an expectation (on his end) that you'll interpret twelve layers if bullshit#in order to understand him#he brushes off jealousy of the 118 and reverts to bucks jealousy#he brushes off daddy issues after admitting he barely speaks ro his father#he brushes off admiration of the 118 being there for each other#he brushes off the jealousy of the anniversary date with a 'youre hot makes sense'#any time he gets CLOSE to vulnerability he opens the door to let out a crumb and then slams and locks the door closed#he wants to be vulnerable but he doesn't know how#he thinks he IS being open when he alludes to things#and sometimes its not even that its painful or scary to open up#sometimes he thinks he's being HORRIFYINGLY open and doesn't realize he's dropping scraps that are impossible to follow to a bigger picture#he hasn't maintained Mystery Man out of any conscious desire to hide himself away#he just feels like he's exposing nerves when all he's really doing is showing a diagram of where they are

Mimi I hit the tag limit on that post and I was SO MAD ABOUT IT.

Gonna AND ANOTHER THING myself right here to add that Scorpio Honesty isn't actively trying to be deceitful or White Lying your way through life.

The ficlet I posted yesterday dove into that a little but unfortunately (for me) it's Very Close to a conversation I have had to have with my partner more than once because in my mind these tiny little morsels are the full fucking kit and caboodle and are just this glaringly obvious window into my brain and my trauma and my feelings when in reality, to most people in my life the blue curtains are just fucking blue.

Tommy drops crumbs about what HAPPENED, not what they made him feel or how he reacted in the face of them. He wasn't out on the job. He dated and was engaged to Abby. He was jealous of the 118. He IS jealous of Eddie. He doesn't have daddy issues (clearly a LIE Tommy jfc). He's a Kinsey six. He was in the Army. He has a an accountant cousin. He'd be interested in doing something with Buck on Saturday.

Like. Scratching the surface shit. Facts.

And on the other side of his Facts is a man who is HUNGRY for information, who drinks in facts and doesn't dig deeper unless there's already a through line to the Substack/Reddit thread/etc.

Tommy sees a man who seems to dig and dig and interpret and come to conclusions based on evidence, and honestly I think it's kind of a shock to him to realize that Buck didn't draw conclusions based on what Tommy thought was GLARING evidence. Yes, he's spooked by the jump from "We dated the same woman and also you're flustered by this woman's flirting on our anniversary and also you have clearly done NO research about your sexuality that wasn't dating and fucking me" to "I want to start the process that often ends with a forever kind of thing" but he's also definitely spooked by the sudden realization that Buck took his crumbs at face value. Because Tommy never offered a through line to more.

And Buck, who is and has been desperate for the kind of relationship where someone can be his Person, where he can be someone's Person (meanwhile Tommy is silently stewing over Buck already having a Person), is so fucking aware of boundaries and so fucking cautious about pushing too-hard too-fast too-much, that even if he DID want more out of Tommy's crumbs, he never pushed because Tommy's body language EVERY one of those times was so closed off he convinced himself to steer it into a joke, a tease, a flirt.

The miscommunication is juicy and wonderful and tears my heart to pieces because they're THERE. They want a future together. Even after so much time apart they are instantly drawn in, instantly aware that they want each other, but in the hookup they sort of switch: Tommy shooting for the stars with $7mil worth of eggs and Prosecco, Buck managing expectations.

And the miscommunication is such a juicy trope to work within but the point of it is ALWAYS to find a way forward. Sometimes the way is calling it, thanking each other, moving on. Sometimes it's demanding better of themselves and their partner. If we're looking at it from a rom-com angle and not a cautionary tale angle, the miscommunication is in the story to make a couple stronger.

They know each other, but they don't know each other. And for Tommy there's this hurdle, another man who knows Buck. For Buck there's this hurdle where he doesn't know how to get to know Tommy without pushing him away.

There's so much room for them to work on it. There's so much room for them to GROW, together and separately. The whump is delicious.

I just hope that we get to see some of it on screen.

[8seraphim8]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴛᴀᴋᴇʀ x ғᴇᴍ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (Platonic)

6.1 pages 2,112 words

As you navigated the bustling streets of Victorian London, your curious eyes searched for opportunities to snatch coins or scraps of bread. You had been successful yesterday, but it had come at the cost of a bruised rib. You hoped for better luck today, as it would spare you from starvation.

With a sigh, you settled on the edge of the pavement, hunched over with your hands resting on your cheeks and a frown on your face. You weren’t particularly skilled at stealing or tricking people. Once, you had been part of the working class until your father passed away, leaving only you and your mother. Unfortunately, your mother—being uneducated and a woman—found it very difficult to secure a decent job, which limited her options to less respectable means of earning money.

Look where that got her… dead. Disregarded and buried in the gutter. As far as you knew, your mother had contracted some disease from her job, which ultimately killed her. Now you were all that remained, having fallen in class but still alive and struggling to survive.

Your eyes darted to each carriage that passed, filled with blue-blooded individuals who only sneered and looked uptight in their ridiculous hats. You stood up, dusted off your worn dress, and decided not to feel sorry for yourself. You resolved to do something about your situation—perhaps you could find a job. Maybe people would take pity on you, a child, and offer you a position as an assistant or something similar. But that felt like wishful thinking, especially considering what had happened to your mother.

With some newfound energy, you strutted down the street, the soles of your shoes slapping against the cobbled ground. Perhaps you could steal some rich kid's clothes, replace them, and become an earl, or whatever it is that girls become. Wives? Not for you. You wanted to be rich and powerful.

Your strutting came to a halt when you spotted a group of sorrowful people entering a church in the cemetery. 'Who died today? Probably some rich guy, considering the number of people here; he obviously had enough money for a funeral,' you thought bitterly, holding onto the iron fence. You sighed. Maybe you could take the coins from his eyes and get a slice of bread, but alas, you’d get caught.

Your gaze flicked to the side when you saw a black blur stop at the fence on the other side. You raised an eyebrow at the strange man. 'How can he even see with all that hair?' You believed yourself to be a kind and cheerful girl, so you decided to approach him.

The man's tall and imposing presence was accentuated by a cascade of long, silver-grey hair that looked somewhat dusty. "Today is a man’s special gala—the final great ceremony in every human's life: a funeral," he spoke, as if to no one in particular.

You skipped over and abruptly skidded to a stop in front of him. "Hello, Mister!" you grinned brightly at the man, a stark contrast to the weeping souls behind him. Your curious voice pierced through the solemn air, catching the attention of the tall man. His gaze shifted downwards to meet your young face, a flicker of surprise in his intense eyes. He studied you for a moment, his expression stoic yet intrigued, before responding with a wry smile. "Ah, there we go. A curious one we have here," he replied, his voice as velvety as the surrounding mist.

He leaned down a bit, bringing his head closer to your level, his hair framing his face like a silver veil. As he spoke, his eyes seemed to dance with an undercurrent of playful humour. "I take it you’re not here to mourn but to observe, are you not, young one?" You nodded your head. "I was passing by and it caught my attention. They’re pretty loud, to be honest; hard not to notice."

At your affirmation, the man chuckled softly, the sound like a whisper against the stillness of the cemetery. "I thought as much. You've got a curious gleam in your eye, one that yearns for more than a mere funeral. Tell me, curiosity, what’s your name?"

"I'm (Y/n)," you said, holding out your hand. The man's grin widened at the sound of your name. He nodded, silently committing it to memory, and shook your hand. "(Y/n), is it? A fine name indeed. As fine as your curiosity, I dare say." He straightened up again, still towering above you, and looked out across the gathering mourners with an air of practised calm.

The man's gaze lingered on the sombre scene before them, the mourners like black moths drawn to the flickering flames of grief. He spoke quietly, his voice a soothing murmur, as if he was sharing a secret. "An aristocrat, one of the wealthy elites who hold this city in the palm of their hand. His name, however, has little significance anymore. To me, he is simply another name on a long list of those who've shuffled off this mortal coil."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you grabbed the iron bars and bent your back, looking up at the silver-haired man in a position deemed 'unladylike' by others, but the strange man didn’t seem to care about a child's need to constantly move. "What's mortal mean?" 

The man's eyes glinted with a hint of amusement. He chuckled softly again at your innocent question. "Ah, mortal, simply put, means 'of this world'—alive. A mortal coil is another way of referring to life. To say someone shuffled off this mortal coil means they have died." 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, still confused. "So, people who are mortals... will die soon?" The man paused for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the funeral, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Ah, yes. All mortals face death, young one. It's the one certainty in this world. No matter who you are or how powerful you might be, death comes for us all."

You released your grip on the iron fence, straightened your back, and stood on your tiptoes to look over. "And then the Grim Reaper will take them away?" The man's grin twisted into an almost mischievous smile at the mention of the Grim Reaper. He leaned down a bit closer to you as if sharing a tantalizing secret. "Oh, the Grim Reaper, hmm? You've heard of him, have you? Yes, he's quite infamous. And you're right. When a mortal shuffles off this mortal coil, the Grim Reaper greets them and guides them to the world beyond our own."

His voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial tone, a hint of dark humour in his eyes as he continued. "Some say he's a fearsome sight, a cloaked figure with a giant scythe. Others say he's a friendly fellow who simply does his job. But one thing is for sure: he's part of the natural order of things. As certain as night follows day, the Grim Reaper comes for us all in the end."

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with a curious gleam for a child discussing death. The man chuckled softly at your wide-eyed acknowledgement, amused by how seriously you seemed to take the information. "You're very receptive, aren't you? Most children your age wouldn't approach this conversation so seriously. But not you. You have a thirst for knowledge, hmm?"

You grinned at the man, admiration already beginning to settle in. "Yeah!" You were practically bouncing on your feet.  The man chuckled again, unable to help but smile at your enthusiasm. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glittering with curiosity "Well then, since you're so keen to learn more, here’s a question for you," the man paused, his grin widening ever so slightly. "Have you ever wondered what actually happens after death?" 

"Eh..." Your expression dropped as you lightly scratched your cheek and shrugged your shoulders. "I don't know; I haven't really thought about it... never bothered to, despite..." You paused mid-sentence. "I'm ten," you added, changing the last part.

The man chuckled again, a touch of amused disbelief in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before responding. "A bit young, huh? Well, that's fair. But it's quite interesting you're curious about everything else, but not this. Can I ask you another question, (Y/n)?"

The man's gaze turned thoughtful, his eyes studying you closely as he asked his next question. His voice still carried a note of quiet humor. "You said you weren't here to mourn, but to observe, yes? So, what exactly is the most interesting thing you've spotted about this funeral so far?"

"...The body," you say, looking down. You wanted those damn coins, but you couldn't admit that, so you said, "It looks like he was stabbed in the face." In that moment of deception, you hoped it was true.

The man's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and dark humour playing on his face. He chuckled softly to himself. "Ah, I see. You observed the dead man, did you? And that's the most interesting thing you've noticed, eh? A face full of stab wounds, you say? Quite a macabre observation, young one."

'Was that seriously what happened?!' Despite the shocking revelation swirling in your mind, you cringed outwardly, continuing to maintain your falsehood. "Yeah... it must have hurt a lot." 

The man grinned again, a mixture of wry humour and morbid fascination dancing in his eyes. "Oh, I can assure you, it did hurt. It probably hurt an unthinkable amount. Death by stab wounds is anything but pleasant."

"What dead bodies have you seen?" you say, tilting your head and placing your hands behind your back, looking like a polite schoolboy. 

The man paused for a moment, his mind seemingly flickering through the memory of past funerals. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he responded, but his eyes held a touch of dark amusement. "Ah, I've seen quite a few. A rather... unique part of my job as a funeral director. But I suppose some stick in my memory more than others."

“Oooh! You’re the funeral person! What’s your full name? Under...under-” you ask, racking your brain for it. You honestly thought he was just some oddly dressed guest.

The man chuckled again, clearly amused by your attempt to remember the word. He leaned down a touch, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Undertaker. Just call me Undertaker, dearie."

 You nodded before looking back at the steets, your stomach rumbling. You frowned at the Inconvenience. "I have to go now..."

The man, Undertaker, chuckled at the sound of your stomach growling. He watched you with an amused smile for a moment before responding. "Ah, hungry are we? Well, I suppose it's time for you to be on your way then, dearie." 

You waved your hand at him, begging to walk away. "Bye, bye!" You'll definitely be going back to him.

Undertaker watched you waving and grinned, nodding his head in farewell, a hint of amusement still dancing in his green eyes. "Farewell, (Y/n). Until we meet again."

As you turned to leave, the man watched you go, an amused smile lingering on his face. For a moment, he almost seemed like a different person, someone less grim and more... human. But as you disappeared into the crowd, the humor slowly faded from his expression, and the man known as the Undertaker of Death returned, an eccentric figure standing in the shadows of the graveyard, observing the funeral from a distance.

He watched the rest of the funeral proceedings with a stoic exterior, his mind now filled with curious thoughts about the young, observant child. You were certainly unlike any other child he had encountered during a funeral. Your morbid curiosity and eagerness to learn were a stark contrast to the usual sobs and tears.

The ceremony eventually came to an end, and the mourners began to disperse. The man known as the Undertaker remained in his place, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the spot where you had stood. Then, with a final glance at the grave, he turned and silently disappeared into the shadows of the graveyard, his thoughts still focused on the curious, morbid child he had just encountered.

"AHHHH I COULD'VE JUST ASKED FOR A JOB THENNNN!!"

​​​​​​​

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

50 / 820 words / for @keegansshark who converted me to the cult of Hesh <3

...

"Anyone sitting here?"

"Uh, no. Knock yourself out."

You sit down across from Hesh. The mess hall isn’t crowded yet. You have plenty of space. "So. About yesterday."

"Remind me,” he says. “It's been a long week."

You roll an orange in your palms. "I was just wondering. Do you want to?"

"Want to what?"

You stare at him, brows raised, curving your thumbnail into the rind until it dawns on him.

"Oh. That."

You've never seen him nervous, and most people wouldn't peg him as nervous right now. You can see it, though.

"I think so. Yeah. I mean, yeah." Hesh looks down at his tray. "I want to."

You begin peeling the skin off in one long strip. "Haven't had time?"

"I haven't, no. I've... you know... been focused on other things." Hesh takes a long swallow of water. “Military stuff."

"Dad stuff."

"Yeah. Dad stuff."

"You looking to change that?"

"Eventually."

"Hm." You dig your nail into a stubborn bit of orange skin. "But not yet?"

Hesh falters. His eyes flicker down to your hands. "The issue isn’t when I want to. It’s how.”

“Ah.”

“I've never actually dated. Or had a girlfriend. I don't know where to start."

"If you want to give it a shot, I can help you out."

Hesh blinks like he's not sure you meant what you just said. "You? Help me out with women?"

You snort. "Not with women. With sex."

Hesh's brow furrows. "What?"

"You said you’re interested in sex. I'll have sex with you if you want."

For several seconds, Hesh doesn't respond. Then he asks, "Why?"

You shrug and tilt your gaze to the side, glancing at the other soldiers in the cafeteria. They don't pay your conversation much attention. "Because this is No Man's Land. If you're waiting for a golden opportunity, you'll probably die before it comes along."

"No, I mean-- why not one of the other guys in our unit?"

"Pretty sure you could get one of them to do it for you if you prefer that. Keegan once told me about this one time when he--"

"No. No, I mean," Hesh says hastily, "why me? Why are you offering me, uh... what you're offering me?"

You peer at him. He doesn't look nervous, but the tips of his ears turn a darker shade of pink. You lean back and bite an orange slice in half. "Because you've never done it."

"Right. But, I mean, that's not a reason." Hesh pauses, searching for the right words. "You can't possibly be interested in me."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

Hesh glances away again. Friends is strong language for it. "Still."

"You want to know what's in it for me," you guess.

"Yes. I do." Hesh crosses his arms, waiting for you to speak. You pop an orange slice in your mouth and chew slowly. Then you peel away another two slices and begin stripping them of their stringy pulp. "Yeah, what is in it for you?"

"I mean, I’m no golden opportunity, but I’d feel sad if you died tomorrow never having known the touch of another person or whatever. Life sucks out here. We have to take small pleasures where we can get them." You pull a piece of rind out of your teeth and flick it into the pile of orange skins. "Something like that."

"So, out of pity."

At his deadpan look, a smirk spreads across your face. "If that's what you wanna call it. I don't make this offer to everyone, if that's what you're asking. It's Merrick's job to fuck the newbies, not mine."

Hesh's eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm kidding."

“Uh huh.” He's not sure how to feel. It's almost a relief that it's not about him, personally. It's not about him at all. Just No Man's Land. "Aren't there rules about that? Fraternizing, or... or whatever."

You tilt your head at him. It's a little funny to see him flustered. He has the whole act down, usually—refined, quiet, confident strength. Almost a perfect soldier. Lab-grown for the Ghosts.

“It's fine, Hesh, really. No big deal either way. You know where my bunk is if you change your mind.” You scoop orange peel scraps off the table. “You've got a night if you want it."

"Wait," Hesh says as you rise. "It's not that, it’s…”

As you walk away, Hesh barely quashes the sudden urge to stand up, back straight, like the goddamn president is leaving the mess hall. He's not even sure what he wants to say. There’s a strange desperation in his gut to keep the conversation from ending yet.

Instead, he watches you go and his stomach flips sideways.

You dump your orange peel into the compost and head for your bunk. Merrick sits at the fringe of the cafeteria. He looks at you, then at Hesh, and his brow creases in confusion. You shake your head as if to say nah, don't ask.

...

more call of duty: ghosts / masterlist tag

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P10)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: the reader gets taken by David. And Joel will do anything to get her back.

Warnings: bruises, creepy comments, kidnapping, manipulation, name-calling, cursing

Author's note: I think 3 updates in one day is enough lmao

Masterlist

Part 1 and 11

.............................................................

Y/N woke up with a labored breath.

In fact, all of her breaths were harsh and painful.

And now that she had truly came to her senses, she couldn't remember taking her medication since Jackson.

She left her medication in Jackson.

"I started worrying you wouldn't wake up."

She sat up slowly, now realizing she was laying on cold tile in a fenced in area of the room.

And she knew that voice.

David.

She hummed, trying to collect her thoughts. 

Her shivering frame no longer had her winter coat.

Her torso was just left in a tank top and Joel's flannel.

She finally managed to look up at David.

He smiled, "Tess… is it?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "…Tess?"

He shook his head, "Apparently not." He held up the piece of paper again, "…Y/N?"

She couldn't stop the small instinctual light up of her eyes.

He smiled again, "There she is… pretty Y/N."

In David's hands was Bill's note to Joel. She remembers Joel keeping the paper, and it must have ended up in her backpack. 

"So, is Tess the girl?"

"Stop saying that fucking name."

His eyebrows rose, "Alright. Touchy subject." He set the paper down, "I just want to get to know you. Understand you? Is that alright?"

"L…Let me out."

"Well, that's certainly the goal." She saw him grimace, "Sorry for that bruising. Can't imagine it feels nice. I talked to James about it, and I truly apologize on his behalf."

The struggle to breathe.

It was the bruising on her neck from her attempted escape.

"Are you hungry?"

"Wh…why am I in a cage?"

David shrugged, "Have you ever had a pet bird, Y/N? You have to make sure it'll stay before you let it out. Otherwise, it may fly away-"

"-Fuck you."

"Or," he continued more harshly, "More realistically, a dog. You're wild. But don't worry. We'll domesticate you. Make you obedient and respectful. Let you eat the scraps off of the table. The others want to kill you. But I saved you. I can help you. Let me protect you."

She shook her head, "We both know I'm not really on my own."

"Right," he nodded, "your family. Your husband, how is he?"

"He's not my fucking husband."

"Well, I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts. But that part of your life, it's ending. And what I'm offering you is a beginning. But if you can't find a way to trust me, then yes. You are alone."

Y/N let out a breath, pushing herself against the wall.

"Can I ask about that?" David asked.

"About what?" She replied coldly.

"That bruise on your arm. Is that… from him?"

A bruise in the shape of Joel's fingers laid around her wrist in a deep purple. It was from cleaning his wound only yesterday, and at the time, she didn't think anything of it.

She looked up at him.

"I see." He said, "You know, people that love you- truly love you- they don't hurt you."

"How the fuck would you know about love?"

"Well, I wouldn't hurt you, Y/N."

"The same bruises are on my neck."

"Those are from James. Not me. I would never hurt you. I think you're beautiful. And beauty is meant to be treasured."

"Joel wouldn't hurt me. He's not like that."

David scoffed, "Did you see what he did to Alec at the university? Snapped his neck. You think he wouldn't do that to you?"

"No. He wouldn't." She reasoned. 

"Be serious with yourself, Y/N. That man is dangerous and cruel. You deserve someone kind and protective."

"And you think that person is you?" She scoffed.

He let out a laugh, "Of course, I wish the pretty girl likes me. Who wouldn't? But, I think that's up to you to decide."

And he left her alone with her thoughts. 

…

Joel was livid.

He could barely see through the red that clouded his vision.

In the scheme of things, they had somehow taken Ellie, too. 

And Joel didn't like it when people touched his things.

He continued to punch the man taped to the chair.

"Please," the man pleased, "I don't know any woman."

Joel stabbed a blade through the man's knee.

"Marco-"

"No, no, no, no" Joel said softly, "He can't help you. You focus right here. Or I'll pop your fuckin' kneecap off."

The man took a deep breath, "She's alive."

Joel nodded, "Where?"

When the man wouldn't answer, Joel twisted the man's kneecap with his bare hands.

"Fuck, fuck! The town!"

"WHAT TOWN?!" Joel yelled.

"..S…Silver Lake."

Joel pulled out a map, setting it on the man's lap.

The same map Y/N had used in Bill's truck.

"It's not a real town name," the man said out of breath, "It's a resort."

"A resort?"

Joel sighed and pulled the blade from the man's knee, shoving the handle of it in the man's mouth harshly.

"You're gonna point to where we are, and where your "resort" is. And it better be the exact same spot you buddy over there points to."

The man did as Joel commanded, then he spit the blade out, "Go ask him. He'll tell you. I'm not lying."

Joel nodded, then shoved the knife into the man's stomach with no mercy.

The other man held hostage yelled out at the violent act. "Why did you do that? He told you what you wanted! I won't tell you SHIT!"

"That's okay," Joel said calmly as he walked to him and grabbed a bat, "I believe him."

Joel swung the bat with no remorse.

…

Y/N was sat on the floor in a panic.

A human fucking ear laid on the ground not too far from her cage.

They were cannibals.

David came in with a plate, setting it on the ground and sliding it to the hungry woman.

But the last thing she could do was eat after seeing what laid on the ground.

He noticed her gaze and followed it, then looked back with a clenched jaw, "For what it's worth, this is just deer meat. I swear."

She let out a small cry, "Are you gonna fucking eat me?"

"I'd rather not."

"How… how could you do this?"

"There are only a few of us that know." David said, "but, I would've told you. Sooner or later."

She let out another small cry.

"It was a last resort. You think this doesn't shame me?"

She sniffled lightly and looked up at him.

David grinned slightly at the eye contact, "Your friend is no different. Didn't he take another man's life to save yours?"

"He…he was defending himself."

"No, he was defending you."

Her eyes left his as she took in his words.

"Can I tell you something? Be honest with you, Y/N? I'm just a shepherd tending to my sheep. And all I want… is someone to share it with. A friend."

"What about my friend?"

He nodded, "I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They'll spare him."

"W…what?"

"If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go. They do what I tell them to do."

"What about my daughter?"

He smiled, "About that…"

Her heart dropped, "Where is my girl, you sick fuck?"

"JAMES!"

James walked in with Ellie in tow. Her hands were tied behind her back and she fought against the man's movements until she saw Y/N.

David smiled, "A happy reunion, indeed."

Y/N stood and approached the bars as close as she could to Ellie. "Ellie! Are… Jesus, are you alright?"

Ellie nodded.

"Let her go, David. She didn't do anything. I'm the adult here. Blame me. Just… let her go, please. Don't touch her."

The preacher sighed, "Well, I really want to, sweetheart. But… I have to domesticate the dog, remember? So, I take something that the dog loves, like…. Ellie, you said?… and I dangle her in front of the dog's nose. The dog will now do anything I say to ensure it gets what it wants."

"I'm not a dog, David."

He smiles, "No…?"

James pulls on Ellie's hair, making her cry out.

"STOP IT!" Y/N yells, "STOP! Fine! I'll do anything. Anything, please. Don't touch her!"

"C'mere then."

She approached where David stood on the other side of the bars.

His hand wandered to her cheek.

It made her remember Joel's touch.

But they were nothing alike.

David smiled, letting his voice drop to in intimate volume due to the proximity, "And now, the pretty bitch bows to her master."

He turns around, "Put the girl in there."

When Ellie is thrown into the cage, Y/N immediately takes her in her arms.

They watch the men leave the room.

"Where are you hurt?!" Y/N asked frantically.

Ellie shakes her head, "I'm fine. Just… scared."

"And Joel?"

Ellie shrugs, "I heard voices, so I did what I could to lead them from the house. Got the horse shot. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, "I don't give a shit about the horse. You're okay, and that's all the matters."

…

A few hours later, the two found themselves a little more relaxed.

David had left them alone for the last 4 hours.

"Y/N?" Ellie asked. "I have something to confess…"

The woman nods, "Okay."

"It's really bad…."

"Bad as in… you killed someone? That's not exactly considered bad anymore."

"No…I… I read the note."

Y/N froze. "What note?"

"The one Joel left for you in Jackson."

Y/N didn't know what to say, "How… when did you… Ellie…?"

"I saw it when I went to the bathroom before we left. I just… I don't know. Part of me hoped that Joel had left it for me. I understand why he left one for you, but…. I couldn't help myself. And I'm sorry for reading it."

"It's fine, Ellie. Really."

Silence.

"Did you want to know what it said?"

"Well," Y/N shrugged, "that depends. Is it something I have to know?"

Ellie considered the question, then shook her head. 

"Okay then. Is it something I'd want to know?"

Ellie immediately nodded.

"Hmm. Would this information change what I have with Joel? And with you?"

Ellie frowned in thought, then nodded, "Yeah. Big time."

Y/N sighed, "Well, I don't care then. I like what I have with you and Joel. I don't want to change it. I'd rather live life not knowing anything and having you two, then to know everything in the world and live without Joel and my daughter."

Ellie let out a shuddered breath at her response.

"Joel also said he loves you."

Y/N's head shoots up, "…what?"

"I won't get into details but… it was all mushy about how much he loves you and how you ground him… all the shit he'll never say out loud."

Y/N nodded. "I see. I hope Joel is out there looking for us then."

"Me, too."

If only they knew.

............................................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[stubz]

"Maverick is here."

"Hi Maverick! Want some coffee?" the human groaned.

"Only if it's Irish..."

"Heh, if only."

The two humans tried but couldn't help the shift of tone when talking about the youngling. Couldn't help the sighs or forced enthusiasm when it came to Maverick.

Maverick, age 6, species Ewelsjay, and the unknowing arch nemesis of Kim and Max.

.

"Maverick get down from there!" the man shouted up to the child dangling from the fire sprinklers.

"But it's fun!" giggled the child.

"They're not for climbing! Get down now!"

"No I'm no-!" the sprinkler snapped.

"I told him," he growled running towards the crying youngling. "a million times I told him don't climb the sprinklers! They're not for climbing! But did he listen? Nooooo."

..

"Maverick! What happened!?"

"Mr. Aurum, Maverick climbed the fire sprinklers and fell when they broke. Luckily it wasn't that high and he landed on the mats, he only has a bruise and scrapped knee."

"And you let him??"

"..No. I did not. We have told Maverick multiple times not to climb them because of this very reason."

"Oh Mavy. You need to listen your teachers. I'll have a talk with him."

"See you tomorrow then."

...

"And he looked at me as if I let his kid climb the sprinklers!!" he took a swig of his Irish coffee.

"Tell me about it...the guy acts as if it's always our fault. One time he told me it was my job that his kid puts his bag in his locker. His 6 year old kid...he's 6 years old! I tell him and sometimes he does it but most of the time he looks me in the eyes and says you do it."

"Exactly! We're not servants!"

"Gah please let them move or switch schools!"

....

"All right kids, foods ready so line up."

"But before you grab a plate let us tell you what's just for the humans today. The kitchen made an accident today and put in too much of a spice that can be dangerous for other species, it's the blue pot. Okay? Only humans can eat that."

"Human kids, only have a little to start with because its spicy. If you like it then you can have more later."

The kids nodded and started to serve themselves, only the humans taking food from the blue pot.

When they ate the adults chuckled and smiled watching their fellow humans eat the spicy curry. Some kids loved it for the spice or flavor while others chugged their milk. They're non-human friends laughed or gasped.

"Human Kim, can I try some?"

"Sorry Maverick but not today. It's not safe for some of you kids. We'll have this again on Friday though and we'll make sure it's safe for the rest of you kids."

"Aw. Okay." the human cracked a small smile and ruffled his golden hair.

"How about you try some of this? It from the same place on earth."

"It's green!"

.....

"Excuse me, Max and Kim? Maverick told me something very concerning yesterday."

"Oh, what was it?"

He told me that yesterday there was a dish just for the humans. That no one but humans were allowed to eat it." the Ewelsjay glared at them.

'Here we go' they both thought.

"Mr. Aurum the kitchen made a mistake when making one of the dishes yesterday and put in too much of a spice that is dangerous to most species. So to not waste the food and keep the others safe we only allowed the human children to eat it.

This was a simple mistake and Kim has talked to the kitchen already and made arrangements to make the dish again on Friday."

"Really? 'Too much spice' is what stopped my child from eating? Unbelievable."

"...listen-"

"Sir, this type of spice is one that can be rather harmful to younglings, even adults, and since we couldn't quite call everyone's parents asking for permission we decided to play it safe." the human placed a hand on her co-workers back. Trying her best to calm her friend. Even though she too wanted to rip Aurum a new one.

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me, what's the name of the dish and how exactly the kitchen made it."

"Mr. Aurum I don't think-"

"Goat curry and it has many different variations but this recipe had 1 seeded scotch bonnet pepper."

And with that the Ewelsjay left with his son.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"No but I don't care. Besides as much as an a-hole he is there's no way he'll let Maverick eat it before he tries it first."

"Ooo the perfect crime."

*the next day*

"Teachers teachers teachers!"

"Yes Maverick?"

"My Dad tried the goat carry and his face turned bright orange! He took one bite and then screamed for water but it didn't help."

"Yeah water doesn't do much. Rookie mistake."

"Yeah but then I remembered what teacher Kim said about milk and gave him that and it helped!"

"So how's your Dad now?"

"He's stuck in the bathroom still drinking milk." he said so matter of factly making the humans snort.

"A-and now do you see why we didn't want you eating it?" asked Max trying his best not to laugh.

"Yeah...I guess I should be listening to you two. You are my teachers."

"Glad to hear that. Now go to put your stuff away and play."

"Okay!" once he was out of earshot the two finally allowed themselves to laugh till they cried.

Maverick was a handful most times but moments like these reminded the two that he was a kid. And kids learn from those around them. Hopeful Mr. Aurum would learn what his son did today, listen to the teachers.

[punksyeet]

- Distance ❥

Plot: A glimpse into a day in the life of Gianna (OC) when her man is on the road.

Warning: Mature language & over-the-phone smut!

It's 2pm and, since I had a heavy breakfast, I'm currently making a fruit bowl for lunch.

Josh always makes me these when he's home and not on the road, so I decided to make it to kinda bring me some comfort with him being gone.

For context, it's WrestleMania weekend, and he has a match tomorrow for the first night, as well as tonight for SmackDown, so he's been on the road a little extra lately.

Despite how proud I am of him, since a match against his twin brother has always been a dream for them both, it doesn't make me miss him any less.

As I finish chopping some pineapple, I throw the scraps away and hear my phone ding, signaling that I got a text message.

I wash my hands, tap on the screen, and smile as I read.

Joshua 🤍: Hi baby

My Lady ♥️: Hi lovebug <3

Joshua 🤍: How'd you sleep?

My Lady ♥️: Okay. Not nearly as good as I do when you're here.

Joshua 🤍: I know baby. Me too. But we'll be back together soon okay?

My Lady ♥️: Okay 🥲🫶🏽

Joshua 🤍: I miss you lots mama ❤️

My Lady ♥️: I miss you more 🤍

Joshua 🤍: Impossible

My Lady ♥️: Shh it's possible

Joshua 🤍: Hmm yeah? Prove it.

Smirking and raising an eyebrow, I send him some videos and pictures I took last night in my brand new lingerie.

I leave the audio on, which is filled with moans and me whimpering his name.

He'll definitely enjoy these.

My Lady ♥️: [Attachment: 2 videos, 3 images]

Joshua 🤍: Holy fuck

My Lady ♥️: I win 😏

Joshua 🤍: Damn right you do ma 😮‍💨

Joshua 🤍: When did you get that set?

My Lady ♥️: Yesterday at the mall. Do you like it?

Joshua 🤍: I love it baby. You look so sexy. I can't wait to see it on you in person when I get home.

My Lady ♥️: Thank you baby 🥹

Joshua 🤍: [Attachment: 1 image]

Joshua 🤍: Look what you do to me 👀

I'm practically drooling at the sight of his boner very visible in his black sweatpants.

I bite my lip before replying.

My Lady ♥️: Ugh I need that inside me right about now 😩

Joshua 🤍: Mmm soon enough baby ❤️

My Lady ♥️: I miss you so much :(

Joshua 🤍: I miss you too beautiful. And I love you. More than anything. 🫶🏽

My Lady ♥️: I love you too <3

Joshua 🤍: Alright I have a promo with Jon in a few so I gotta go fix this new issue I have in my pants. I'll call you later, okay?

My Lady ♥️: LOL sounds good baby. I'll be watching. 🤍

Joshua 🤍: I know you will babygirl ❤️

You loved "I know you will babygirl ❤️"

Ugh this man drives me crazy.

I set my phone down and continue making my fruit bowl.

Once I'm finished, I take everything out to the backyard and sit at the table.

I unlock my phone and open the kickoff show YouTube stream to my man's entrance music.

He's dressed in a blue YEET crop top, matching glasses, black sweatpants, white air forces, his silver Cuban link chain, and fan bracelets.

I pop a piece of watermelon in my mouth and smile, as he comes out onto the stage and the crowd goes wild.

He's so over with the crowd it's crazy.

I'm so happy for and proud of him. <3

A few minutes have gone by and the promo is coming to a close.

"Tomorrow night," he begins. "Jimmy and Jey. Tomorrow night we stand on business. Man, tomorrow night, you boutta catch this yeet-down."

The crowd follows up his quote with a "YEET!"

"And if you want Jimmy Uso to catch this yeet-down," he continues. "Then lemme hear you say YEET!"

The crowd, once again, answers him with "YEET!" and cheers as his music plays.

I smile and clap my hands, feeling extra proud of him.

I love Jon like a brother, but I just know my man has this match in the bag.

I decide to shoot him a quick little text:

Me: You killed that shit baby. So proud of you! 🥹🤍

I finish up my fruit and, as I'm washing out the bowl, my phone rings. I smile when I see it's from my best friend and Josh's sister in law, Trinity.

G: Hey Trin!

T: Hey babygirl! How are you?

G: I'm good! Just finished watching the guys' promo. You?

T: Ugh me too girl. I'm nervous but, no matter who comes out on top, they're gonna kill it tomorrow.

I smile, nodding in agreement.

G: Agreed! So what's up with you?

T: Not much, girl. I actually called to invite you over. I'm feeling pretty lonely without Jon here and I'd imagine you're feeling the same way about Josh.

I let out a deep sigh.

G: Girl you have no idea.

She giggles.

T: Come over then! We can go in the pool, take some cute pictures, and spend some time together. That way we can keep them off our minds for a bit.

I smile and dry off the bowl.

G: Sounds like a plan girlfriend. I'll be over in about an hour or so.

She squeals and claps her hands.

T: Period! I'll see you soon babe!

We say our goodbyes and I head upstairs to shower and get ready.

I decide on a simple yellow cheeky bikini, throw a tube top and denim shorts over it, then head out.

—————————————————————————————————

I've been over at Trin's for a few hours now.

Our reason for hanging out has been quite the success: while I still miss Josh a ton, she's been keeping my mind off of it.

We decided to order in our favorite Chinese takeout and tune into SmackDown.

Specifically, Josh and his little brother Joseph aka Solo Sikoa’s match.

As my man is about to pin him, Jon comes running in from beside the ring, stopping the count.

I sigh and take a bite of my sesame chicken as Trin sucks her teeth. "He's so messy and for what?"

I shake my head letting out a soft giggle. "Girl that's your man. You're allowed to support him, I'll be okay."

She playfully shoves my arm and we share a laugh, before the crowd's cheering gets our attention and we turn back to the TV.

The camera pans to Cody Rhodes and Seth Rollins running out to the ring.

Eventually, they make it and fight off Jon and Solo, saving my man.

A soft smile appears on my face as Josh climbs to the top rope and delivers an Uso Splash to his twin.

"Girl," Trin says breathlessly, before taking a sip from her wine glass. "This rivalry got me all the way fucked up."

I nod in agreement. "Amen to that. Hopefully after tomorrow they can just hug it out and make up."

She nods and we share a laugh, then proceed to watch the rest of the show.

After another few hours of watching our favorite romcoms, eating, and sharing laughs, it's past midnight and I decide to head home.

"Alright boo," Trin says, leaning against my window once I'm in my car safely. "Drive safely and please text me once you get home."

"I will," I reply, and we share yet another hug through the window. "I love you."

"I love you too babygirl," she exclaims.

We say our goodbyes and I head off.

About 15 minutes into driving, my phone rings and reveals that Josh is FaceTiming me.

I smile, connect my phone to bluetooth, prop it up so that he can see me, and answer.

His gorgeous face pops up on my screen.

He seems to be laid in his hotel room bed, with his arm propped behind his head.

G: "Hi lovebug."

J: "Hey babygirl. Where you headed at this time of night?"

G: "Home. I was at Trin's place for a while. We had a pool day and watched the show together."

J: "Aw that sounds nice."

I smile while stopping at a red light and lift up my arms to stretch, yawning in the process.

He smiles, just sitting there watching me.

J: "Tired mama?"

G: "Exhausted. I can't wait to take a shower and sleep."

He lets out a chuckle.

J: "I bet. I wish I was there to help you relax."

G: "Me too baby. I miss you."

J: "I miss you more ma. But I'll be home before you know it."

I nod, giving him a soft smile and turning onto our block.

Soon enough, I park my car in our driveway and head into the house, locking the door behind me.

I shoot Trin a text while still on the phone with Josh:

Gigi 💗: Hey sis. I just made it home. 🤍

Trin 🥰🫶🏽: Good to hear girl. It was so good seeing you today. ❤️

Gigi 💗: Same here. Love you! 🫶🏽

Trin 🥰🫶🏽: Love you too! Sleep well. 🥰

You loved “Love you too! Sleep well. 🥰”

I smile and close my tabs, going back to the FaceTime with my man.

Assuming he's getting ready for a shower, he peels his shirt off, revealing his gorgeously toned torso and perfectly caramel colored tattooed skin.

Fuck I miss that body so badly.

He must've caught me lacking, because he smirks and raises an eyebrow.

J: "You like what you see, baby?"

I bite my lip, nodding.

G: "You know I do. I miss having that body all to myself every night."

J: "Who says you can't?"

I raise an eyebrow, clearly confused, before he continues.

** tiny smut warning! **

J: "Get those clothes off and lay down for me, mama."

I bite my lip and stare at the screen for a second as he sexily pulls down his sweats and boxers, allowing his dick to spring free.

I prop up my phone so that he can see me and slowly peel off my clothes as well.

He begins to get hard and strokes himself at the sight of my now naked body.

J: "Fuck baby. Your body...the things it does to me...you're so dangerous."

I sit on my knees and massage my breasts, sticking out my tongue and allowing my saliva to drip onto them.

J: "Good girl baby. Play with those tits for daddy. You know just what I like."

After a few minutes of this, we move onto my lower half.

"F-fuck daddy! Just like that!" I moan, my head thrown back, pumping my fingers in and out of my hole.

Josh moans along with me, stroking his now wet hand from the base to the tip of his dreamy dick, never taking his eyes off of me.

J: "I want you to cum for daddy. Let go. Can you do that for me?"

"U-uh huh," I reply, my fingers still at work, except now they're making rapid circles on my clit.

J: "Use your words for daddy, baby."

"Y-yes daddy!" I utter out in between moans, slowly but surely reaching my climax.

J: “Good girl.”

Just seconds later, I feel a pit in my stomach.

“D-daddy! I’m so fucking close!” I practically scream.

J: “Cum for daddy, baby. Gimme that shit.”

My body jerks as warm, white liquid pours out of me and onto the bed.

J: "Pick up your phone baby. Daddy wants to watch all that cum spill out of your pretty lil pussy."

I do as he says and, soon enough, I've made a huge mess all over our sheets.

And as if on cue, he hits his climax as well.

** smut over! **

"Fuck," I whisper breathlessly, laying back and panting like a nut job.

I can hear deep breaths coming through his side of the phone as well.

J: "You did so well for me baby. And once I get home, it's gonna be even sweeter."

I nod, my mouth still hanging open.

He chuckles and cleans up his mess, as I quickly change our sheets and get ready for my shower.

"I'm gonna get in the shower and hop in bed," I exclaim, my voice just above a whisper. "I'll call you in the morning?"

He nods. "Sounds good, mama. Go get some rest. I love you."

I give him a soft smile. "I love you too, baby. Good night."

We say our goodbyes and he even kisses me through the phone, causing me to giggle before we hang up.

I toss my phone aside and head into the bathroom.

I take a steaming hot everything shower, do my nighttime skin care, brush my teeth, all of that.

Once finished, I climb into bed and tuck myself under the covers.

I reach over and grab one of Josh's pillows from his side of the bed and snuggle it.

It smells heavenly - just like him.

The scent brings me automatic comfort, and within minutes, I drift off to sleep.

Liked by uceyjucey, trinity_fatu, zillafatu, romanreigns, and 2.6M others

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[appledew]

Here is Beetlejuice! Designed and made for ealvara7 over on IG!

After my little meltdown yesterday, I can 100000% say it was SO WORTH spending those few hours tailoring the shirt and coat 😭❤️❤️❤️ For reference, over on IG and cross posted to twitter-- I took the Reel for this little man. The button-up and the coat looked way too baggy and I kinda hated it a lot. I scrapped the reel and decided to make adjustments to the clothing.

trench coat stayed untouched though, as much as I wanted to edit that too. I did decide to change the armature as well. Beetlejuice's wiring in the legs couldn't support the weight of the rest of the plush.

This plush is made with minky. They stand at about 14 inches from the top of the head to the bottoms of the feet. The suit is removable. There is balljointed armature in the base body of the plush for poseability. Button up shirt has buttons but they are not functional. The shirt is closed using hook and loop!

Back to yapping: I did have much more confidence with making plush clothing despite the tailoring! Patterning went much more smoothly!

I'll leave it at that for now!

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

Commission info can be found here: https://linktr.ee/apple.dew

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/appledew

Trello queue: https://trello.com/b/FZKSnMo7/plushie-commission-to-do-list

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AppleDew_

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/apple.dew

Tumblr: http://appledew.tumblr.com/

Furaffinity: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/appledew

deviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/appledew